Monday, July 7, 2008

Tales By Request


I've been told a few times that the things that happen to me here at work should be written down. A lot of them are, but they're tucked away in various journals and blog pages that only real die hards could find and order them. I am not one of those people, so without further ado, I present "Hotel Hilarity: Confessions of a Night Shift Desk Clerk — Greatest Hits" (do you think publishers would dig that title?)

First thing's first. I was only about a month out on this job, still screwing up in one way or another about every shift when a gentleman walks in at around three in the morning demanding to speak to a manager. The shade of cherry filling his cheeks told me he was either drunk or worked up, so I kindly told him that I was the only one there, seeing as how it was three in the morning. He demanded that I call the manager at home. Trying to avoid having to do something that would definitely put my on the bad side of my employer, I tried the non combative route. "Is it something I can help you with? Why do you need to speak to the owner?"
"Your back door doesn't work, and it's next to the handicap spots. That's illegal, and I want to talk to your manager about it." This one could go on and on, so I'll just sum it up. Ask for the details in person, I'll gladly give them all to you. Long story short, he called two different Days Inn hotlines to speak with someone so that he could complain, and was upset to find no one was answering the phone at three in the morning. I eventually got him to go to his room, where he told me that he had called his lawyer, and he was going to take the matter up with corporate. Godspeed, sir. 

Who can forget the Tupac lady? Late one night, two women walk into the lobby asking if they can get a room. I tell them the price, to which they react with an elongated "sh************t" and then ask if they can just crash on the couch. No, I said. You can sit down for a moment, but that's it. I could smell the alcohol clouding out of their mouths about nine feet away, so I just wanted them to leave peacefully. Luckily for me, they were rather friendly in that "holly crap you are so drunk" way people can be. As I kindly ushered them out of the door a moment later, one turned and asked in a rather passionate tone: "Yo, you like Tupac?" I was awfully tempted to continue that conversation, I'll admit, but my sheer terror as to what two completely drunk women might do if my partiality to west coast rap was revealed (especially in all of its superficiality. I can talk for a grand total of five minutes on the subject). 

Two more.

One night, a young man kind of half-jumped, half-spilled into the doorway. Perhaps the best word to describe him (but hopefully not judge him) was "dude." He pushed his beanie back up off his brow and asked about room prices. I was answered again with something along the lines of "sh*********t." He turned to leave, but a brilliant idea struck him like beauty to a poet. He turned to me and asked: "Could you cut the price in half if I give you a bud?" Admittedly, my naivety in these topics led me to believe he was offering me beer, not drugs. "No thanks," I said. "You sure some weed won't change your mind?" I directed him to the Travelodge up the street. 

One night, I saw a suspicious character walk in. He headed upstairs, without a word. I decided to go on my rounds, I didn't trust him, and we've had homeless folks sleeping in the hall before. True this guy looked a bit put-together, but something about him... well I didn't see him on my rounds, so I assumed he had a room and was sleeping peacefully. Early that morning, just as I finished putting out breakfast, he came down and used about half of our pitcher of milk, and ate a waffle and several bowels of cereal. He then laid down on one of our ultra-comfy chairs and fell asleep. I wasn't sure what to do. I found out the next day he was a "vagrant" if you will, and got in a bit of a fight with one of the other help desk employees later in the day when he refused to leave.

And many more! Ask me about the guy who comes in for only a couple of hours, or the people who get upset when they find out that their travel agency made money when they booked their room here. Drunks, kids, oh and the marshals who were looking for someone with a warrant on their behinds, checked into a room facing the parking lot for a bit of a stake-out. Hard to believe I'm only here for about another month. I'll miss the danger. Chicks dig the danger. 

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

these are hilarious, man.. thanks for sharing..

Captain Julie said...

I LOVE THESE.