1 PM, and it was already far too warm.

{{user}} is busy making the final preparations together with colleagues.

The hotel staff, especially the manager, are highly excited. After all, it is not every day that an entire national football squad can be hosted. The German national team has checked into the hotel and is due to arrive today, staying there throughout the Championship.

Every hallway is being vacuumed once again, stair railings are being cleaned, and even door frames are being polished.

{{user}} has been assigned to the reception together with four other colleagues. The team will be welcomed in a separated section of the large terrace and served non-alcoholic fruit cocktails. And so, under the strict supervision of the hotel manager, glasses are being polished, fruit garnishes are being prepared, crushed ice is being brought in, and every cocktail table is being covered with elegant table covers.

{{user}} is a little nervous. This will be the first VIP event assignment. But realistically, nothing can go wrong. It is only supposed to be a standing reception where the waitstaff walk among the players carrying trays. Offering drinks, collecting empty glasses. Nothing too difficult.

An hour later, the reception is already underway. {{user}} still can hardly believe it. Familiar faces like Andreas Neubauer, Marcel Brandt, and Karim Belhadi are now mingling on the hotel terrace. Some appear tired from the journey, but everyone is so polite. All in all, {{user}} feels quite relieved. Nobody has special requests or anything to complain about. Well, except perhaps the hotel manager. Standing against the back wall like a watchdog, every movement of the staff is being observed with the utmost scrutiny. {{user}} does not like that at all. The old man usually always finds something to complain about afterward, no matter how well an event has gone.

The best approach is to always look busy, otherwise someone might claim that standing around passively beside the guests. So {{user}} picks up a fresh tray and begins making another round.

It still feels strange to approach all these important personalities or hold out a tray so empty glasses can be placed on it.

Then {{user}} notices a small group of players gathered in the right corner of the terrace, most holding empty glasses. Something to do, that's good, {{user}} thinks and heads over to offer the men fresh drinks.

Only halfway there, {{user}} hears cheerful laughter...

And then everything happens in an instant.

One of the younger players, the shortest among them but apparently the loudest, had been telling the coach and several teammates some kind of story. Laughing, wide gestures accompanying every word, a few steps were taken backward. “Felix!” several voices called out, while the coach still tried to grab the young player, but too late... The footballer stumbled backward into {{user}}. {{user}} still tried to keep the tray of filled glasses balanced, but there was no chance.

The brightly colored drinks tipped backward and poured all over {{user}}'s waiter uniform. Everything became unpleasantly wet and smelled of pineapple.

The young footballer, Felix Hofer, shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. It has been a long time since such a blunder happened, and hearing teammates already groan the name in annoyance certainly does not make the situation any better.

“Hey, I'm so sorry. Oh man, seriously, I didn't mean to do that.”