I recently found myself back in London for a quick work trip. Given that I’d only be there for a couple of days, I thought I’d make life easier by booking a hotel within walking distance of the office. Simple plan, right? Well, as it turns out, simplicity can be quite the illusion.
Upon checking into the hotel, I was given a room that, to put it mildly, was not conducive to a good night’s sleep—or any sleep, for that matter. Situated right by the street, the noise was relentless. Think of car horns blaring, late-night revelers shouting, and the occasional siren piercing through the night. After about ten minutes of this urban symphony, I decided enough was enough.
I grabbed my luggage and headed straight down to the reception. Skipping the non-existent in-room phone (they’ve gone all digital with WhatsApp, which I’ll get to later), I asked for a quieter room. The receptionist smiled politely and informed me that they could indeed move me—to a room on the riverside—for an additional £20. An “upgrade,” they called it. Feeling that peace and quiet were worth the extra expense, I agreed.
Key card in hand, I embarked on what felt like an expedition to my new room. Navigating through the hotel was like exploring a labyrinth. It turns out the hotel was composed of multiple old buildings merged together—a common architectural quirk in London, I later learned. Hallway after hallway, turn after turn, I half-expected to stumble upon a minotaur guarding the way. I even made a fast-forward video of the journey because, honestly, it was that ridiculous.
Finally reaching my room (probably in a different postcode by then), I walked in expecting a haven of tranquility. While it was indeed quieter, I quickly noticed a glaring omission: there was no desk or table. Not even a tiny ledge to perch my laptop on. The previous room had a small round table and a standard desk, so I hadn’t even considered this might be an issue.
Determined to find a solution, I went back to reception—remember, no in-room phones and I hadn’t yet wrestled with their WhatsApp system. I asked if they could bring up a small table, perhaps like the one in my first room. The receptionist gave me a sympathetic look but said that due to “fire protocol,” they couldn’t add any additional furniture to the room. Right.
Feeling a mix of hunger and exasperation, I decided to head out to grab some dinner. There’s a sushi place nearby that I love, so I thought some good food might improve my mood. After securing my sushi, I retraced the labyrinthine path back to my room, getting only slightly lost this time.
Back in the room, sushi in hand, I faced the next challenge: where was I going to eat and work? The bed? Not ideal, especially with soy sauce in the equation. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it—the ironing board. Desperate times call for creative measures. I set it up near the window (which, by the way, overlooked the river I couldn’t see because it was pitch black outside) and voilà —a makeshift desk!
As I settled in, balancing my laptop and sushi on the ironing board, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. But the universe wasn’t done with me yet. The room was cold—Arctic cold. I tried adjusting the wall heater, but it was as lifeless as my hopes for a normal evening.
Enter the hotel’s innovative communication system: WhatsApp. Since my room was practically in Narnia, trekking back to reception wasn’t appealing. I sent a message explaining the heating issue. After a series of delayed responses and the kind of miscommunication that only technology can facilitate, they sent someone up to inspect. The gentleman confirmed the heater was indeed not working and promised to bring an electric heater shortly. About half an hour later, he returned with a heater that looked like it had seen better days, but beggars can’t be choosers.
So there I was—eating sushi and preparing for my meeting the next day, working on an ironing board, warmed by a vintage electric heater. And you know what? I got the job done.
This whole experience was a quirky reminder of what I do every day. For over 25 years in technology, working closely with businesses, I’ve been all about solving problems and improving processes. Whether it’s re-engineering a workflow or turning an ironing board into an office desk, adaptability and creative problem-solving are at the heart of it all.
Sometimes, the best solutions aren’t the ones we planned for but the ones we discover when things don’t go as expected. It’s about making the most of what’s available and not letting obstacles derail you.
As I finally wrapped up my work for the evening, I felt a sense of accomplishment. Not just for overcoming the hotel’s many challenges, but for embracing them with a bit of humor and ingenuity. Plus, I now have a great story (and some amusing photos) to share.
Here’s to all the unexpected hurdles that test our adaptability and the ironing boards that become our desks.
Are you curious about how far the room was from the lobby? Check this fast-forward video I shot.
Have you ever turned a less-than-ideal situation into a win? I’d love to hear your stories! Share them in the comments below.
