[First attempt at a story. Feedback appreciated.]
Like many other people in the UK of the late 90s, I took a year out before starting university. Found myself a job at a new budget hotel which was opening in the next town; we were a small team of a dozen or so, mostly young, and we all got on pretty well. After a couple of months I switched to work the night shifts, it was a little more money but also more varied as sometimes you’d not see a soul and at other times you’d have a party in the bar until the small hours.
One of the benefits of everyone getting on is that we made a few of our own house rules. For instance, there was one room – Room 33 – which was always set to ‘out of order’ in the system unless we were really full: it was right next to reception and the automatic doors, so could be a little noisy, but there was nothing wrong with it otherwise. Some of the girls who usually worked the day shifts would sometimes have a quick snooze in there during the night if it was quiet, and occasionally one of the team would drop in after a night out on the town to sleep it off, especially if they were on the early shift the next morning.