John walked through the doors of The Cortez and marched up to the counter where the receptionist was waiting to attend on any patrons who required assistance. It appeared to be a slow day, there weren't many people around in the lobby. She greeted him with a smile, either not cluing in that John was experiencing a complex range of emotions or choosing to ignore it. "How can I help you today?"
"Hello," started John, figuring politeness was still the best route. It wasn't the receptionist's fault that he was having a shitty day, after all. "My name is John Abbett, and I had a booking for this hotel for the next two weeks but it fell through and I didn't even get a notice or a refund. Just nothing at all."
The woman on the other side of the counter furrowed her brow. "That's strange, we haven't had any cancellations or shifted anyone around. Let me dig through the system, you said your name was what again?"
"John Abbett. A B B E T T." he said, spelling his last name out.
The receptionist clicked her keyboard and frowned after examining her screen. "It says that there are no records of such a user in our member database, let alone a recent booking."
John was irritated at this point. "Look, I even have a membership card for this chain!" He started digging through his wallet and saw the nice background with palm trees and beach, grabbing the card and handing it to the receptionist.
She stared at it for a moment, and then looked over at John. "Well, I guess shaving and different lighting can make a man look very different. Let me keep looking." She scanned the card and handed it back to John.
John was confused at the comment, before taking the card back to examine it more thoroughly. He gasped inside his head as he looked at the card. A portrait of a middle eastern man smiling with a freshly trimmed beard and a nice fade greeted him. This must've somehow gotten mingled with his things when he was going through the other man's luggage! How the receptionist confused him with white, skinny, clean-shaven John was completely beyond him, but he certainly wasn't going to bring it up. What John didn't notice was that the card had his name on it - instead of looking further he quickly put the card back in his wallet to avoid suspicion.
"Okay, I still can't find anything." said the receptionist, not really worried about the mismatch which was so apparent to John. "Let me look at today's bookings, maybe we'll find you there."
"Thanks. Sorry about all the hassle, but I kind of need a place to stay!" exclaimed John.
"Wait, I found one. It's John, right? John Abbous?"
John assumed that he was hearing her wrong, and agreed. John Abb-something was close enough, and she was probably filling in the gaps from the photo he presented her. "Yes, that's me." he said.
"Excellent! Just let me do a bit of paperwork and click some buttons on the system..." she said, making quick work at her desk. John heard a scanning noise, similar to that of a library or a supermarket, and then was handed two card keys. "All in order!", the receptionist exclaimed. "Here you go Mr. Abbous, your room number is 607. The elevators to that floor are just around the pillar. Gym and sauna are downstairs, and there's complimentary breakfast between 6-11 in the morning by the entrance, near the bar area. If there's anything we can do for you, just give us a call at the desk."
"Thank you, miss." said John, scratching his small goatee on his chin. "I'm glad everything is sorted out." The last word came out with a bit more force than he anticipated, and he put his fist to his mouth and coughed into it, clearing his throat. As he removed his hand, a mustache was revealed over his upper lip, connecting to his goatee.
John grabbed his luggage and headed over to the elevator, ready to check out his room and finally get a chance to relax for a moment after touching down. He pressed the button and the door immediately open. He stepped in and pressed the 6 button, setting his luggage down. The tag flapped around briefly from being leaned against the wall, the name "John Abbous" visible in big letters to any onlookers.