Ellis and I need eight towels, four each, on the lounge at the pool. Multiply us by many and that's a lot of laundry! Nevertheless, four is a necessity: two to cover the cushion; one to roll as a pillow; and one to use for drying off. With the hotel filling up the closer we get to the holidays, the towel guys are seldom seen in the towel kiosk. They are out earning a living, most of which comes from tips people seldom give. People think their service is covered by the cost of the room. It isn't.
Ellis and I are tippers. I think because one of our sons, years ago, quit his first job as a bellman. He wasn't making enough money. He was't getting enough in tips to make up for his low wages. I figure these young men who take care of the towels and carry our luggage are somebody's sons. I like to make them happy in their work. And the young men are very appreciative. Our lounges are made up before we get there--yesterday with a gift from the sea: a nearly perfect conch I can lift to carry home, mui dulce.
THE TOWEL KIOSK