Jay Goldman

It took a certain savoir-faire to climb the ranks. A delicate knowledge that couldn’t be so much taught as observed, intuited rather than instructed. An ability to emphasize no matter your personal beliefs and proclivities. Joe had paid his dues early, starting out in the lower east and gradually moving up and west as his rep grew. Now he oversaw a team of four ― Head Concierge ― at a flagship property in the high 90s.

The neighbourhood was changing fast and Joe’s crew had to keep up. Guests were increasingly transfixed by the gizmos in their pockets, feeding them all kinds of info for which they used to call on him. He still booked a lot of show tickets and organized shopping tours for the ladies who lunch, but the good stuff ― the real sensitive challenging hard stuff ― had all but dried up.

Joe was watching a young couple debating breakfast options in the main lobby, ten feet from his desk, Blackberries unholstered, oblivious to the font of knowledge a few paces away. Sam, who was watching with him, said “Twenty on Betty’s” out of the corner of her mouth. Look more like Humber House folk he thought, a new joint two blocks away with DJs at brunch. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Game on. Two minutes later and the ‘Berries were reholstered. Destination: Betty’s. Joe slipped Sam a bill, shook his head, and said “Going for lunch. Back in an hour.”

That’s the problem with all this technology. Can’t tell a tourist trap from a hole in the wall. He was walking along 92nd, almost at Vine. The young couple were just ahead of him, looking in the window at Betty’s. They turned away just as be passed, questioning their handheld oracles. Joe stopped, came back, shook hands, gave directions to Humber, accepted thanks, and even felt a little better. He made a note to get his twenty back from Sue.

savoir-faire: (SAV-wahr-fayr) noun: The ability to say or do the right thing in any situation; tact.

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