It was 12:30 p.m. when I took the elevator to the fifth floor. A VIP was about to arrive, and I had to do the final room check. We had to make some rearrangements, as the assistant of the very famous actor who was to stay there had requested that everything be arranged according to the philosophy of feng shui. It was Brigitte who greeted me at the entrance of the room. “The assistant has just arrived, he seems to have a problem,” she tells me in a whisper. I entered the room, the housekeeper at my back, and found myself facing a small man with a balding head and round glasses. I introduced myself and asked him – although his constipated expression already gave me an idea of his answer – if the room was suitable for him. We moved the bed, removed the mirror, replaced the headboard with

