A few years ago, while vacationing in Mexico, I brought along a little traveling ironing board. At the end of the trip, I did not have enough space left to bring it back home with me. I decided to leave it on the bed for whichever Mexican employee wanted it.
While getting into my cab to the airport, the hotel manager and the maid chased after me, flailing their arms. The manager said to me in heavily accented English, "Sir, you cannot leave anything behind without giving written permission for the maids to keep it." The maid, her nametag said "Maria", stood quietly listening to us babble in our ugly northern language that she, clearly did not know a word of. I could tell she waited anxiously, afraid that she might have or may get into trouble.
"No problem," I said as I wrote a quick note for the maid. It read as follows:
Dear Maria,
Happy Ironing!
Love,
Russell.
