Once, Jack had to go to Nairobi, Kenya to attend an international conference. His secretary then had to make a hotel reservation for him. Unfortunately, most of the recommended hotels listed in the travel brochure were full on that specific date. Then, she called the last hotel in the list that she didn’t know anything about. There were still rooms available in the hotel, so she took the chance and made a reservation.
On the following day, Jack reached the hotel at half past seven in the evening. The hotel was located in a quiet street opposite a church. The owner, who welcomed him, was a stern old lady, about sixty-five years old. She escorted him to his room herself because there weren’t any porters. When Jack asked her about dinner, she said that there was only one sitting, at half past six, and he had missed it.
“Never mind,” Jack said amiably. “I’m not hungry anyway. I’ll just have a drink t the bar and then go to a restaurant.”
“Bar!” she said, raising her eyebrows. “This is a respectable hotel, young man. If you want to drink alcohol, you must go somewhere else.” She spoke as if a glass of beer was a dangerous thing.
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