I was lost on a sea of gravy, floating in a raft made of waffle fries when the desk bell rang. Ding, ding. Get up, Mike, you’re not allowed to sleep here, a voice said. I woke up confused and drooling. Where am I? Why is Todd Campbell standing over me, looking un-impressed? Oh yeah. We haven’t even started the overnight shift at the Super 8 Motel and I’m already sleeping. Dreaming vividly, in fact. It was actually a recurring nightmare. Eventually I eat the raft, get rescued by Fudgie the ice cream cake whale, abandoned by Fudgie (I nibbled a little at his cookie crust), and wash up on a hostile mashed potato island covered with dinner roll boulders and cascading butter water falls. It always ends just as the island’s evil turkey queen is about to use me as a poultry thermometer.
Not everyone, obviously, is cut out to be a motel night auditor. Campbell’s been at it for seven years, the last two with the Super 8 in Norwich. It’s his job – and he’s a solo artist, folks – to make sure the motel runs smoothly at the most critical time: When guests are trying to get some sleep.
“You want to make the guests feel as at home as possible,” said Campbell. “You want to provide them with a stress-free environment.”
Campbell starts at midnight. He says goodbye to the evening staff on their way out and then the place is all his. It’s quiet. Eighteen of the motel’s forty-seven rooms are occupied. I asked if he ever gets creeped out running the place all alone. (I’d see a set of pale twin girls drenched in blood around every corner, them saying, “Come play with us, Mikey.” But then again, my brain is fried from years of abusing horror movies and Mountain Dew).
“Not really,” he said. “You get used to it. If I hear something, I’ll check it out. Make sure everything is OK.”
The first hour and a half is busy. Todd’s back and forth between the desk computer and the office, compiling utility and billing reports from the previous day’s business. Those get sent to the headquarters in Poughkeepsie. Once that’s done, the challenge of downtime begins.
“I have a bunch of things to keep me busy,” said Campbell.
Often times he’ll research and type his weekly column, “The DVD Patrol,” which appears every Friday in The Evening Sun. The column announces upcoming DVD releases, be they new movies or updated versions of old classics (and duds that should’ve been forgotten). Known in the column as “The Toddster,” Campbell provides overviews of each film and recommends which are best suited to a particular audience.
“I see it as my job to point people in the right direction for what to look for,” he said.
By 3 a.m., Campbell admits sometimes the hotel job can get difficult.
“Especially if it’s my first day back from a five-day shift,” he said. “It’s hard getting back into night mode. By 3 a.m., sometimes I start feeling a little sleepy. That’s when I really have to keep myself going.”
That’s about the time he’ll eat an early breakfast, late-late dinner, or whatever sober people call a meal at that hour (twilight brunch?). My loved ones should be thankful I don’t work that late, and that there isn’t a 24-hour Taco Bell. The skies would turn red and the vengeful spirits of tortured Chalupas would be upon us.
Sometimes the wee hours are interesting. At another hotel, Campbell found a man drunk and naked in the swimming pool. He politely asked him to leave, and he did. “That was one of the weirdest things I’ve seen.” He’s also had to break up fights and free people from broken elevators.
There’s also been a few famous guests on Campbell’s watch as a night auditor, including country singer Buddy Jewel. No, Buddy did not hold a pudding match in the room or try to go fishing out the window. Buddy was a gentleman.
“He was very nice, very down to earth,” said Campbell. “A lot of musicians and show business types get a bad rap. Not the ones I’ve met.”
These days, most of the late-night guests he runs into are looking for a place to get a pizza at 1 a.m.
“I have to send them to Price Chopper or Wal-Mart,” he said.
At 5 a.m. Campbell brews the coffee and puts together the continental breakfast for the early-early risers. The sky gets lighter and more guest shuffle down, he checks them out, chats them up.
“Checking them out is when I get to shoot the breeze with them,” he said. “I enjoy hearing about the different places they’re going, and I always talk to them about the places they’ve been.”
Campbell notices that most occupants come to Norwich for the local festivals or are on their way other destinations in the state. Summer is the motel’s peak season, but business is generally steady throughout the year, he said.
“People stay here for a lot of reasons; business, seeing family and summer events,” said Campbell. “Because of where we’re located, right in the middle, a lot of people stop here on their way to somewhere.”
Parent’s weekend up the road at Colgate University and the Hall of Fame induction ceremony are big draws, too, he said.
Before he knows it, it’s 8 a.m., time to leave. He’ll go home (he lives in Smyrna, where he was born and raised). Off duty, he finds time to enjoy his hobbies, which include collecting comics and watching movies. He sleeps while everyone else works, and starts it all over again.
“It’s a lonely job. I do meet a lot of people, but those are really the only people I meet,” Campbell said. “But my parents instilled in me a sense of responsibility. Even if it’s a lonely job, some people have to keep the world working while the rest of it sleeps. I’m one of those guys. I’m a behind the scenes guy. I keep things running. The Toddster is always on the job.”