A very very very long time ago, when I had only just started working full time, well before the advent of electricity and telephones, I was working as a receptionist in a small 3 star hotel in Sliema. My boss who was the owner, who was something of a mentor for me, was rather sharp and perceptive and astute.

So I knew that I was under his full scrutiny and that he was evaluating me much of the time. You might be thinking that this was normal being my boss. However I felt that he was also assessing me as a person and an individual and often gave me fatherly advice.

Being fresh out of school, I suppose that many of us act in a similar manner, as if their first job was an extension to their school antics. And as to me school was all about antics and fooling around and playing it smart when I didn’t really have a clue and didn’t care much more that being cool and popular and winging it all the time which somehow worked most of the time, I suppose that in my mind my first job wasn’t much different.

So somehow I managed to get away with murder. I did very little of what I was supposed to, never touched any of the boring tedious and repetitive work which was assigned to me and even managed to turn my job description upside down and moulded it perfectly to suit my own desires.

So within weeks I did absolutely none of the book keeping or admin but pushed it onto my colleagues, I ran a little racket with the tips and the souvenirs we sold at front office, I appropriated a hotel room and literally moved in lock stock and barrel, I negotiated a fully inclusive deal for me with free unlimited food and drinks, decades before it was even invented, and I flitted from room to room busier than a bumble bee on heat.

So I lazed around and I ate and I drank and I partied and I slept around like there was no tomorrow. And what an experience it was, which lasted several years. And in many ways there was no tomorrow because in spite of my young age I was so comfortable and in a way set up for life, that the days and the weeks and the months and eventually even the years went by and didn’t count at all. I still remember once forcing myself to go for a very short walk around the block, as it had been exactly two weeks since I last had even set foot outside the hotel.

I mean think about it. What on earth could a young man want? Living in a hotel, eating, drinking, partying, making friends and living a daily erotic dream – AND being paid for it!!!

I will not go into the details and permutations and nightly, or often multi-nightly – charades, in this instance, for that alone would warrant an independent book.

But by this stage you might be wondering why on earth was I tolerated? Why wasn’t I kicked out with all my clothes and pride into the street in separating squabbling couples style?

Well believe it or not here comes the crux of the story. My boss who I already said was anything but dull, had worked things out rather well. He tolerated all of this nonsense and a bit more which now escapes my memory, for one big reason. And this reason was only revealed to me towards the end of my degenerate era after several years. For I too really didn’t know before. And being the very immature boy I was then, I really didn’t care and had never even dwelled on the matter much. I was far too busy having fun to think very much in those days.

I was still in my late teens when I had started this job and I had permanently moved out of home. Although I didn’t visit my parents much as every minute away from work was a minute of glorious fun wasted, I sometimes made the effort to go and see them for an hour or two. I forgot to mention that my laundry was also catered for at the hotel, so obviously mummy lost even more value in my then shallow esteem.

I told them how busy I was and how interesting my role had become, steering light years away from any form of truth in my details. Until one day after several years bang! I see my parents walking into the hotel! I was very taken aback. What on earth were they doing there. My father in his habitual wise demeanour, simply informed me that they were there to have a drink. He had slowly collected bits of information over the years and knew the right day and time to come to find my boss there for his intended talk. I wouldn’t say that they were overtly worried or concerned. They were curious more than anything else and just wanted to get to the bottom of things once and for all.

So they casually walked into the bar, made themselves comfortable and ordered a drink. I was buzzing around not knowing what to do and how to act, until my boss arrives and notices something happening. I had no choice than to introduce them, a few minutes after which I was conveniently sent away to do something which took a very long time to complete.

My parents left with no big fuss and not many words. It was only after many days during my next visit to them that they revealed what was discussed. They told me how my boss went on and on listing negative after negative and weakness after weakness of my performance as an employee. To the extent that after some time my mother’s protective instinct had tuned in and apparently she rather exasperatedly asked “Ok ok then if he’s so bad why do you keep him?’. “Ah well”, he replied, “Because this is first and foremost a hotel and our prime objective is to keep our guests happy and make them return. And with looking after people Alex has a rare talent and is second to none”.

He was of course not only referring to what had by then become my Kama Sliema Sutra fame, but my passionate socialising, my full attention to people, my unashamed openness and friendliness and untiring efforts to make people comfortable and happy, my jokes and fun and laughter, the regular games and parties I organised for the guests, basically my entire devotion, virtually 24/7 to making people happy, literally in every way possible with an unabating and natural devotion.

It suddenly all fell into place. My infinite naiveté was starting to crack. It wasn’t all a game after all. He didn’t simply like me and humoured my every whim and fancy. There was a reason therefore why he very well knew about all my antics and even at times helped me up to bed when I had drank too much. It wasn’t for nothing that he even suggested to me to approach the lonely ladies. Once he even reproached me for not having made a pass at a woman who had returned for more a few months after her first visit to Malta.

This finally made it all so obvious. No wonder I was permitted to frolic around like a cross between a Prince Charming and a Don Juan to my heart’s delight, not to mention any other bodily organs. This is why all my mad excesses were always supported and never curtailed or admonished.

In many ways I was flattered and even put at ease. My highly irregular employment and lifestyle was in a way officially sanctioned. But somehow the whole realisation and rationalisation of the previously magical and surreal situation had burst my bubble. It was no longer mad and crazy and exciting and wild – it had become a job. And much as I admired by boss’s wisdom, foresight and practicality, in an ironic twist of fate, I felt that it was time to move on.