"Alright, so once a guest has checked out, we begin the routine. First, we clean out the bins. There are three around- Sam! Are you listening!"

I land back on earth with a bump; I had been day-dreaming about something that I can't quite remember. I stare at her blankly. Jess looks at me disappointed, her forehead crinkling before saying, "It's fine, it's only your first day but try to listen."

From there on out, I do so thoroughly, noting every pointer she mentions. They ranged from putting the complimentary chocolates on the bedside table rather than the pillow because they'll melt, to leaving the curtains open when you leave to give the new guest a brighter first impression. It was astonishing how all these tips help a maid land a bigger tip. I guess it's fair enough as Jess has had more than enough experience as one to collect all the tricks of the trade.

After tutoring me, Jess guides me to another room and explains how to do a 'touch up'. She shows me how to clean up a room that is currently 'occupied' to use fancy terms. We empty the bins, collect the dirty washing and pack it into bags labelled 'Room 365'. Jess quickly makes the bed and vacuums the floor as I restock the towels and toiletries. She finishes off by leaving more chocolates on the table. Silently, we leave the room and shut the door behind us.

Our lanyard passes allow for us to enter any room, but we are logged with every room we enter. It's something that the hotel adopted when there became a huge demand for guests- maids couldn't keep up with the keys. Jess tells me that the new method is a security procedure so that any staff that enters a room where items are reported missing can be questioned for taking them. I nod my head and continue to walk through the corridors. Together, we clean through many more rooms and finish our shifts.

I wave her goodbye as we leave the building and ride the tube home. It's only when I reach the front door that I remember that I forgot my keys this morning. I knock but there is no answer. Shoot. Amy's at work and won't be back till late. I sit with my back to the door and call her. After several rings, she answers.

"Hey, soIlockedmyselfoutcanIcomegetyourkeysplease?" I ask with one breath.

"Um, sure," she replies uncertainty, "I'll take a break when you get here."

I hang up and run to Starbucks. The door groans as I swing it open. Amy sees me and starts to untie the strings on her apron. She ushers me to quickly takes a seat at the back of the shop. As she gives me the keys, I look at her. Her eyes look puffy and slightly red even though she's wearing makeup. I tell her everyday she doesn't need it but she won't believe me. I ask her what's wrong and the long fought tears begin to trickle down her face.