Our Ladies of Passion

The Vacation Express is very busy the Monday Mary Margaret starts working the front desk. Mary Margaret is nervous, not only because it's her first day on the job, but also her first day on any job. She's just graduated high school in May, and with little to do between graduation and her next grand adventure, what ever that might be, she embarks on the hunt. The oh so daunting, nothing more monotonous, job hunt.

“Must have a masters degree or higher.” - The local library

“Must have six years prior experience.” - The local daycare.

“Must love dogs.” - Her middle school bully

Oh wait. That’s a good one. But no, Mary Margaret quickly learns that if it sounds too good to be true, it's probably an MLM. What the ad didn’t say - "Must love dogs, and also have one-thousand dollars to invest in CBD doggy treats, you can hawk to your friends on Facebook, and in no time, you can be an independent, CEO girl boss of your own doped-up-doggy empire.”

“Must have a GED or high school diploma.” - The U.S. Military.

After endless emails sent, resume tweaks, and pencil skirts ironed, all hope was nearly lost. Until, finally, her mother of all people, saved the day. And it all came about through an age old Southern tradition, the grapevine.

“You remember Gracie, don’t you? The two of you took clarinet-jazz-tap dancing lessons together, when you were two-years old? Yes, her, the one with the hair bow so big, the teacher thought she was nodding off in class, but really her head was too heavy for her neck. Yeah, I always liked her too. Always so talented. Well, I ran into her aunt’s Basset Hound the other day at CVS, and you’ll never guess what I found out...”

And just like that, Mary Margaret is manning the front desk at the Vacation Express.

“Must know someone, who knows someone, who goes to church with the owner.” - Vacation Express.

BRRRRRRNNNNNNNGGGGG.

Mary Margaret answers the phone gleefully on the first ring.

“Vacation Express, this is Mary Margaret. How can I help you vacay your way today?”

“Oh, goodness me.”

The voice on the other end is timid, possibly elderly. Mary Margaret worries that the perfunctory company greeting might have been a little much.

She tries again, “How may I assist you, today?”

“Yes, my name is Sister Mary Margaret, and I would like to book a conference.”

Immediately, Mary Margaret is on her best Catholic school girl behavior. Thirteen years of plaid skirts and knee socks have led her right to this moment. What a crazy coincidence that she and her first booking share a name. It must be fate, or (she makes the sign of the cross) divine intervention.

“I would be glad to assist you, Sister. What are the dates for your conference?—Would you prefer the ballroom or the large conference room?—And how many guest rooms? Okay, wonderful. You have a blessed day.”

Mary Margaret hangs up the phone and fist pumps the air. Her first booking has gone nearly perfectly. There are only two slight hiccups. She’s misplaced her log in for the computer system, so she hasn’t actually booked the conference yet, but even worse, she forgot to thank the guest for choosing the vacay way for their stay. Mary Margaret will never be promoted to manager, if she doesn't get her act together. She'll need to practice in her car on the way home.

She finds her login info in her notes app and feels very grown up, as she navigates the hotel’s booking system. Mary Margaret feels even better, when she sees that her own name is already typed in the reservation for the conference dates. Mary Margaret of Our Ladies of Passion, Saturday, July 13-Sunday, July 14. Perhaps, she misunderstood, and Sister Mary Margaret was calling to confirm her booking, not to make a new one. Besides, it's Our lady of Passion, not Our Ladies of Passion. She quickly corrects the error. The important thing is that the reservation is locked in.

"This job is going to be a breeze," she thinks.

~

Four weeks later, Mary Margaret has a whole month of front desk experience under her belt. She knows her login by heart, and she never forgets to thank the guests for choosing to vacay the Vacay Express way today. Precisely at noon, her name twin, Sister Mary Margaret, and a convent’s worth of her holy cohorts will be checking in for their annual retreat.

At 11:45, a very tall, very curvaceous woman sporting a nun’s habit and a full beat makeup look approaches the front desk. Mary Margaret does a double take, but catches herself. She isn't trying to be rude, it’s just that she’s never seen a nun’s knees before, let alone her cleavage. Not to mention the flawless foundation routine and fake eyelashes. Is that glitter? She’ll need to warn housekeeping pronto. She plants a smile on her face and does her very best to focus on the guest’s eyes rather than the sparkly mounds threatening to upend the stack of brochures she meticulously places on the counter each morning.

“You must be Sister Mary Margaret, are you checking in early?” She asks.

The woman lets out a hoot of laughter.

“You’re damn right. I appreciate the respect. Sister Mary Margaret, ha. You can just call me May May. This is only one of my many ensembles. I’m early, but the rest of my “sisters” are on the way.”

“That’s perfectly fine, um,—May May. Housekeeping is finishing up with your conference room as we speak. You are welcome to wait here and I’ll let you know as soon as they’re finished.”

May May turns and scans the empty waiting room.

“Where can I find a drink,” May May searches for Mary Margaret’s name tag and upon finding it, claps her hands together. “We’re name twins! I knew I liked you. So much better than the little minx that booked me over the phone. She was a drag. Now tell me, is there a hotel bar? My cup runneth dry.”

Mary Margaret feels a little offended that May May doesn't remember her from their phone conversation, but she shakes it off. That was Mary Margaret from a month ago. Of course, she's different now. She's a working woman.

“Absolutely, I’ll show you the way.”

After getting May May settled in the bar, Mary Margaret takes her post at the desk, checking in one nun after another. Some are dressed similarly to May May, and others are more traditionally garbed, but all wear black habits. There are so many sisters, in fact, that Mary Margaret calls her manager for back up. Before she knows it, all the rooms are filled, but nuns are still trickling in.

“Mary Margaret, there must be some kind of mistake. Are you sure you reserved enough guest rooms for this conference?” Her manager asks.

She feels sweat collecting in her hairline. A nun in fish nets notices her distress and begins fanning her with a parking pass. Mary Margaret tosses her a grateful look.

“Maybe? I’m not sure. I made the booking last month. It was my first day.”

There is a round of sympathetic cooing from the gallery. At least, everyone is being patient with her.

Suddenly, there is a commotion in the waiting room, as an elderly woman with a cane parts the sea of black.

"It’s giving Moses," whispers the nun with the parking pass.

“Did someone call for Sister Mary Margaret? I’m Sister Mary Margaret.”

She does a double take, “But, if you’re Sister Mary Margaret, then who did I check in?”

~

Mary Margaret and her manager follow Sister Mary Margaret II, who is leading the charge to the conference room. She hears music beating in time with her heart, before the double doors are even open. Once they are, her jaw is on the floor.

The white table tops are covered with poker chips, cards, and stacks of cash. Someone has laid out distillery's worth of alcohol, and May May hits a full split onstage while performing Madonna’s, Like a Virgin. Even May May's athleticism can't quell her anxiety in this moment.

“Mary Margaret, you are—,” her manager starts to say, but she’s cut off by Sister Mary Margaret II.

“Absolutely fabulous. This is going to be the best conference we’ve had in decades. Just wait until the brothers at St. Bernard hear about this.”

Mary Margaret smiles tentatively. Has she been saved? Surely, this is a miracle.

Her boss says, “But clearly we’ve made a mistake and double booked your conference.”

“The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned. Where is this other Mary Margaret?”

May May realizes the commotion and steps off stage to join them. She throws one arm over Sister Mary Margaret II’s shoulders. In her pleather pumps, she towers over the lot of them.

“My sisters and I are willing to share as long as everyone agrees. These girls are a hoot and a holler,” May May says, raising her manicured brows at Sister Mary Margaret II.

“That isn’t the problem,” the manager says, clearly flustered. “The problem, is that the guest rooms are double booked as well.”

“Oh honey, we never planned on sleeping in the first place,” says May May.

“Neither did we,” says Sister Mary Margaret.

The manager throws her hands up, as all three Mary Margarets begin to clap gleefully.

“Fine, but no gambling without a permit,” the manager tells May May who looks very confused.

Then Sister Mary Margaret II turns to one of hers and says, “Sister Eustace, pack up the cards. No poker this year.”

She seems to notice the sideways glance Mary Margaret and May May share.

"What? If it was Bingo then no one would bat an eyelash. Judge not lest ye be judged, ladies," she says, shaking her cane at them.

“You know this could get very confusing if we all use the same name. My friends call me May May.”

“Um, I could go by Mary or just Margaret?” Mary Margaret says.

Sister Mary Margaret is having none of this.

“Bless your heart, dear. This has been confusing enough for you. Keep your name. You can just call me Fanny.”

“Fanny? Why, Fanny?” Everyone asks in unison.

The nun simply turns on her heel to join the fun. The Lord works in mysterious ways, but he's got nothing on Fanny.

~

Who could have known that if Our Lady of Passion Convent and Our Ladies of Passion Drag Show collided, the police would be called twice. Once for a noise complaint, and the second time, because Sister Eustace never actually packed up the poker chips. Zero arrests were made.

All in all, it was a wonderful night. Unfortunately, the conference was the last straw for her manager, who realized that the stress of the vacay way was just too much for her to handle on the day to day. On the bright side, Mary Margaret received an immediate promotion and a bump in pay from minimum wage, to a little more than minimum wage.

It’s been over a year, and Mary Margaret still enjoys her job. However, she sometimes regrets that the Our Ladies of Passion conference happened in her first month, because she finds the work a little bit boring.

It’s the same story over and over. More towels in Room 202. A bottle of champagne to Room 305. The wife of the man in Room 701 wants to know if there’s a blonde, twenty-something year-old staying with her husband. 118 wants to know if she can bring her dog. He’s very calm, because he gets a weed gummy every night with dinner.

"Hey hun, it's not a pyramid scheme, you just don't get the concept."

And round and round she goes.

BRRRRRRRRRNNGGGG. BRRRRRRRRRNNGGG.

These days Mary Margaret only answers on the second ring. First ring answering is above her pay grade.

“Vacation Express. How can I help you?”

The Vacay Way rhyme is also above her pay grade. There’s no price on human dignity, after all.

"Hello, my name is so-and-so, and I'd like to book the conference room for our local Democratic Party convention."

"Please hold."

Mary Margaret picks up the other line.

"Hi there. My name is such-and-such, and I'd like to book the conference room. It's for our local Republican Party convention."

Who says lightning never strikes twice?