Upon check-in, the pleasant young woman at the reception asked me if I'd ever stayed at a Candlewood Suites before. The question caught me off guard. I said no. She explained the rules, about reduced housekeeping. They don't come in your room at all, except for once a week. They leave you totally alone. If I needed new towels or linens before then, I'd need to bring the old ones down to the desk and ask for new ones.
That wasn't a big deal, of course. I was going to be there three nights. I was perfectly capable of making my own bed, and conserving my towel usage until then.
Yet there was something about it that made me feel a bit wistful. One of the reasons I enjoy my lifestyle, over say, having an apartment, is that I get to interact with people on a daily basis---the people at the front desk, and housekeeping. Candlewood Suites was the kind of place designed to minimize that interaction. It was actually something I didn't really want to minimize.
The room was nice, of course. The television was a nice large screen model that displayed Bloomberg financial news whenever one turned it on, no matter what channel one had been watching when one turned it off. I wound up leaving it on Bloomberg quite a bit and listening to talking heads explaining why the Cypriot banking crisis wasn't a big deal, and that all was well. Go about your business. Suckers!!!
The television was equiped with a DVD machine. Behind the front desk at reception was bank of shelves with DVDs on them for free rental by guests. I looked over the list one evening but was uninspired by the selection.
It's part of the philosophy of Candlewood Suites to make one feel as if one is staying at an apartment complex for long-term. One can "check out" bar-b-que tools to use the outdoor grill for cooking. In the laundry room (free machines) there is a bulletin board with notices that guests and management post for each other about events. While I stayed there they had a bake sale in the lobby. Too bad I don't eat sweets much anyone.
Another fun thing about the Candlewood was the "pantry" on the ground floor. It was a room that contained a selection of sundries, snacks and microwavable meals on shelves and in a freezer. It was available twenty-four hours a day. Payment was on the honor system, either by depositing cash in the slot or by filling out a form with one's room number on it.
I made a single purchase at the pantry while I was there, a Klondike ice cream bar one evening when I came home late. It was a dollar. I took a bill out of my wallet and pushed it into the slot.
That's one more dollar than they get out of their banks in Cyprus right now.
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