John opened his suitcase and unpacked what were his immediate needs.  After taking a nice, long, warm shower he decided to complete a couple of hour’s paperwork before heading out for a meal.

At around 7:00pm his hunger got the better of him so he re-packed and locked his briefcase, changed into some casual clothes and, remembering he saw a dining area downstairs, thought he would eat in rather than go out.  As he walked towards the stairwell he passed the elevator door and pushed the ‘Down’ button.  No lights came on and when he put his ear up to the stainless steel door there was no sound.  Oh well, it really is unavailable, he thought.

The reception area was in partial darkness and there was not a person to be seen.  He went to the reception desk and rang the bell.  Two minutes later, the pox doctor’s clerk emerged from the staff room adjusting his bow tie.  “Yes, sir?”

“I wonder if I can order some dinner here; I’m really hungry.”

“Sorry sir, the dining room is unavailable,” came the emotionless reply.

“Well, do you know a good restaurant nearby?”

“Sir, if you go out of the hotel and turn right there are many restaurants to choose from.”

“Thanks for all your help,” John said sarcastically as he walked towards the front door.

Next morning John awoke around eight after an uncomfortable night on an inner-spring mattress in which every third spring seemed to be missing.  The first thing he noticed was the room was uncomfortably warm.  The aircon was not running.  Needing a nice warm shower to embrace the day, he went into the bathroom and turned the light switch.  The light did not respond.  Then he turned on the hot water tap to discover the water was as cold as ice.  He kept it running, hoping the hot water would eventually begin to flow but, after five minutes, the shower remained cold.  He decided to grit his teeth and bear it, thinking he would get the manager to fix the problems when he went downstairs for breakfast.

Outside in the corridor he pushed the elevator button to, once again, get the same result.  He mused that perhaps there was no actual elevator and the whole thing was just a wall ornament and someone’s sick joke.  He walked down the familiar stairs to the dining room where all the tables were neatly set for customers who had obviously not arrived yet.  He sat at a table near the window and opened the menu.

Ten minutes later the manager appeared at the table.  John thought this guy is either wearing the same clothes as yesterday or he has a wardrobe full of identical suits.  He decided to get the first problem out of the way before ordering his breakfast.

“There is a problem with my room,” he explained politely.  “The aircon doesn’t work and I had to take a cold shower.  There doesn’t seem to be any power.”

“Oh no, sir,” the manager smiled.  “Not on Tuesday.”

“What do you mean, ‘not on Tuesday’?”

“Well sir,” the manager stopped smiling, “this city has power shortages and rationing is in force.  In an effort to conserve what power we do have, the Marquis Palace shuts off our electricity every Tuesday.  Between 6:00am and 6:00pm the power is unavailable.  May I take your order?”

Incredulous, John asked the next obvious question.  “I assume you can still cook me breakfast?”

“Oh yes, sir.  We have gas.”

John read from the menu.  “I’ll have coffee, scrambled eggs and toast, please.”

The manager bowed his head, “Yes, sir,” and headed to the kitchen.

When he returned looking even glummer than usual, John knew there was something wrong.

“Sorry sir, scrambled eggs are unavailable.”

“Well, what can I have then?” John asked, accepting his fate.

“Chef can do fried eggs, poached eggs or an omelette, sir.”

“So you do have eggs then?”

“Yes sir.”

“And you can make an omelette but you can’t make scrambled eggs?”

“Sorry sir, scrambled eggs are unavailable.”

By now John was at a loss for words.  “Ok, I’ll have two fried eggs with toast.”

“Very good, sir.”  The manager gave a slight bow and went back into the kitchen.

He returned within seconds.  “Sorry sir, toast is unavailable.”

John looked up at him.  “Why?”

“Because chef did not have time to go to the bakery this morning, sir.  Would you like French fries instead?”

“I assume you have a potato?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“Fine,” replied John angrily.

After his ordinary breakfast washed down with lukewarm coffee, John made a decision.  He went to his room, packed his bags and carried them down the stairs.  At reception, he belted the bell hard with his fist and the manager emerged from the staff room.

“I’m checking out,” he said before the manager had time to speak.

“As you wish, sir, but you had checked in for two nights.  I’m afraid there will be a cancellation fee.”

“I don’t care – just give me the bill!”

The manager presented the bill and John handed over the money.  As he gave back the change, the manager made a slight motion with his eyes towards a wooden box on the counter marked ‘Tips’.  John took all the change and pushed it deep into his pocket.  “Sorry, mate, but a tip is unavailable.”

Outside on the pavement, while deciding what his next move would be, John noticed a man running across the road towards him.  It was his taxi driver from the day before.  He reached John and, with a large smile across his face, grabbed the handle of the suitcase.  “I waiting for you.  I know you check out today.  Now I take you to good hotel.”

John surrendered, thinking that, no matter how bad this guy’s brother’s hotel was, it could not be worse than the one he just left.  During the short drive, John learned from the driver that the Marquis’ manager from hell was notoriously miserly and the elevator, although in good working order, was never turned on in order to save money.  The town did not have a power shortage but the guy routinely shut the power off to save on electricity.  The ‘chef’ was actually the manager’s wife who could only cook about three of the items on the menu and whenever a customer asked for something else, the manager would give his ‘unavailable’ speech.  John had been the Marquis’ only customer in more than a week and no guest had ever stayed the duration of their original booking.

The driver’s choice of hotel was good.  Everything worked, including the elevator, and it was cheaper than the Marquis.  As he unpacked in the room, John took the Marquis’ receipt from his pocket to file in his briefcase.  In one last futile fit of defiance, he crossed out the hotel’s name on the letterhead and scribbled above it: ‘Fawlty Towers’.