A Tale Of Two Calls.

CALL #1: A RICH MAN.

  • He had a watch that didn’t come from a case of beer.
  • His car wasn’t a standard issue domestic unit mini-van or a middle-class SUV advertised in commercials featuring shiny, happy people cruising leisurely down sun drenched country roads.
  • The tailored suit covering his form was immaculate.
  • As one would expect, he brought along the stereotypical ultra-high-maintenance wife who appeared to have just lost her last baby tooth and who couldn’t stop rolling her eyes. Seriously,  I thought she was having a seizure…

He was living the dream – and he was miserable. Or so it appeared. Granted, I can only draw conclusions from the few minutes that Fate allows me to spend with these people, but he didn’t look like a happy guy; waves of anger and resentment poured off him like sweat off a fat guy trying to climb stairs while carrying a bucket of chicken.

CALL #2: A POOR MAN.

  • He wasn’t wearing a watch, but his ball cap definitely came from a case of Bud.
  • The trunk of his LTD was held down with a length of rope. I kid you not.
  • A weathered Led Zeppelin t-shirt – a bold choice for a man in his fifties -  jeans and cowboy boots comprised his vacation attire.
  • His wife was a lady of advanced years (heck, compared to #1′s wife, she was ancient!), but salt of the earth values, as evidenced by her eagerness to mingle with valet and bell staff while her “pookie bear’ unloaded the White Trash Mobile. Seriously, she referred to their car as the White Trash Mobile.

Two men, both in the same place at the same time. Both cut from the same ultra-white cloth – although one of them had a neck as red as Alabama clay – and traveling with their significant others. 

Two men whom one can safely assume traveled in different circles, yet found themselves at the same fork in the road in terms of a single choice. That choice? How to treat the bellman.

Seems simple, I know, but nothing could be more complicated. Our behavior towards others is reflective of our mood at that moment in time. If you’re having a bad day you may dismiss the bellman with a look of haughty derision and no gratuity and falsely assume the matter will end there.

However, and trust me on this, you may have actually lit the fuse that unleashes a powder keg of revenge directed squarely at you and only you. I don’t indulge in revenge against guests – it simply devalues one’s soul – but between my tours of duty at two hotels over fifteen years I’ve seen many acts of revenge carried out by bitter bellmen.

Here are but five.

DISCLAIMER: (And this is directed solely at any representatives of the hotels’ HR department that may be reading this) Each of the acts of revenge you are about to read of was carried out by an individual who is no longer a working bellman.

  1. I’ve seen toothbrushes dipped in toilet water, paint thinner and bodily fluid.
  2. Trunks/back doors can be closed just enough to hold until a vehicle leaves the property – and then they spring open, depositing their contents all over the Niagara roadways.
  3. It is a simple matter to switch the power off in certain rooms, plunging an unsuspecting guest into darkness at the most inopportune time.
  4. They say never mess with the people who prepare your food; well those same individuals are often tight with the bell staff. You do the math…

And finally,  this one will knock your socks off but I swear it’s true: once upon a time, while consumed by rage, a bellman seduced a guest’s wife and had angry sex with said spouse – on the hood of the guest’s car, no less – while a colleague hid in the bushes and took photographs which were later mailed to the guest upon his return home.

Yes, this occurred before the dawn of the digital age. An old-time camera was used and snail mail was the only game in town. And since I know you’re wondering, both employees were terminated with extreme prejudice, but at least they had one hell of a tale to tell.

So as you can see, it pays to devote a few minutes of careful thought to those who are charged with assisting you while you travel, for the hand that pushes the bell cart is the hand that rules your world, if only for a moment or two.

As for the two men with whom this lesson began, they were a study in contrast on many levels; the rich man employed the Kevin O’Leary method and placed his love of money above all else, while the poor man put kindness and consideration at the forefront of his life.

Simply put, the rich man was a douchecopter who stiffed me, while the poor man threw me a wrinkled twenty that smelled like beer and cigarettes. I maintained an open mind and treated both men with respect and a welcoming attitude but in each case the outcome was wildly unexpected. 

There endeth the lesson.

BEFORE YOU CLICK OVER TO YOUTUBE TO WATCH CRAZY ANIMAL VIDEOS:

Check out the latest offering from Miss Four Eyes. (Yes, I suck at intros, just read the damn post, will ya?)

Bird Brain

The nightingale is known to have one of the most beautiful voices. They symbolize poets and their poetry because of their creative and seemingly spontaneous songs. Nightingales get their name because they’re known to sing at night as well as during the day, their favorite time to sing is the hour just before sunrise.

One of them lives in the tree right outside my window.

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

It never stops! EVER! I can’t take it anymore, I’m going insane! All day and night it goes “CooOOoooo CooOOoooo” as loud as it can. Imagine a high pitched whistle. Musical? NO. Not at 5 am in the morning. Annoying to the point that you consider making rotisserie nightingale for the neighbor’s dog? Oh yes.

to kill a nightingale

I know you think it’s a beautiful creature of nature, but it isn’t. This bird is pure evil.

READ MORE HERE:

I WROTE THIS!

 

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I’m Invoking Kelly Oxford in This Title Because She’s Huge On Twitter And This Will Draw Attention There.

 (I’m a sneaky devil, aren’t I?)

A BRIEF ANNOUNCEMENT:  I’ve been nominated in the Badass Blogger Awards . The Indie Chicks have a kick-ass site worth checking out. Vote for me and I’ll be your best friend. That’s a $50 value, folks.

And now, on with the show…

Riddle me this, kids: When is a blogger not a blogger?

When his thoughts are scattered like Justin Bieber’s fragile psyche, that’s when. At the moment I’m simply a guy staring at a blank notebook (My posts begin as scribbles poured from my brain into a weathered notebook while hunched over a desk in the Bell Room, which fortunately for a lifelong comic book fan/nerd like me, resembles the Batcave), praying to the blogging gods (i.e. Le Clown) for inspiration.

The Hook’s world remains immutable, something I’m actually grateful for. After all, there’s something to be said for continuity. Robert Hookey’s world, however, is another matter entirely. I’m holding my breath at the moment and while I wouldn’t normally divulge such info in this forum, my personal trials have begun to impact my professional performance, the blogging aspect of it, at least. 

My days have been filled with the usual hi-jinks and shenanigans, but I find myself in the unusual position of bystander rather than chronicler or participant. Normally, a person would turn to a trained medical professional for assistance in such matters. However, since I am poor, don’t smoke, drink alcohol, or take recreational drugs – or for that matter, have any time to watch a film or video of the adult variety - I shall turn to my old standby, writing, and charge full steam ahead, guns ablazin’, as they say.

It should be noted that The Hook has only held an actual firearm once in his life and he did not care for it, but unfortunately the Jehovah’s Witnesses refused to leave my porch before attempting to save my soul…

Last Monday was a tribute to the Gods of Chaos, as the tourist season unofficially began in Niagara Falls. Unfortunately for many of my compatriots in the hospitality industry the term “tourist season” does not allow one to brandish a weapon and track down actual tourists, whose heads you may then mount and display on your wall, as The Bloggess does with animals. Nevertheless, I still took the time to terrorize my guests whenever the opportunity presented itself.

And it certainly did when the phone rang for the hundredth time during the height of the check-out period, affectionately referred to as “Unhappy Hour” by many of us.

GUEST WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE’S ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE: Yes, I’ve been waiting thirty minutes for a bellman. I know you’re busy, but the wait is killing me! What can I do?

THE HOOK: (In a calm, clear voice reminiscent of a wise, older uncle or a 911 operator.) A bellman is on his way to you now, sir. As for your current dilemma, the solution is simple: go over to the alarm clock, which should be located next to the lamp on the nightstand between the beds.

GWHNIWHATE: (Hanging on my every word.) Okay, I’m here! What do I do now?

THE HOOK: What does the clock read, sir?

GWHNIWHATE: It says 10:45.

THE HOOK: All right, everything hinges on this next part, so listen closely. What I need you to do is set the clock back one half-hour…

It took him a moment, but to his credit, he followed my instructions to the letter,  proclaimed “I’ve got it!”, and then read out the revised time display.

Then the phone was silent for a moment before he quietly said “Hey, wait a minuuute…”

As I expected/hoped, he began to laugh raucously before shouting to his wife, “Hey honey! The bellman made an ass out of me! Can you believe it?” She did, by the way.

THE HOOK: To be fair, sir, it was a team effort.

AND NOW, TIME FOR A LIST!

Top Ten Things I’ve Learned As A Bellman.

1)  You can wear business attire over a schoolgirl outfit without anyone noticing.  And no, I wasn’t the one who actually pulled this off. I had you going for a moment though, didn’t I?

2)  Financial institutions do not accept “Thank you” as payment on a mortgage.  Of course, that doesn’t stop people from tipping me with such sentiments…

3)  It always pays to take the high road. For those of you who are really confused right now, let me explain: I may speak out when faced with challenging guests, but I never deviate from the basic rules I use to live my life. I bend but I never break.

4)  Never dip your pen in company ink.  I’ve seen grown men reduced to blithering infants after engaging in such behavior. Trust me, it isn’t pretty. Keep work and play separated and you’ll live a longer, more prosperous life. The thrill of an office romance is overrated anyway. 

5)  What happens in Vegas never actually stays in Vegas.  People always assume they can get away with murder while vacationing – I blame The Hangover movies – but nothing could be further from the truth. Hotel employees do indeed respect their guests’ privacy, but in this day and age of camera phones, Facebook, etc., you have more to worry about from the person staring at you in the lobby whom you don’t recognize (but who recognizes you) than you do from The Hook.

6)  Never, ever, let a stranger handcuff you to a hotel bed, draw a fake mustache on you, cover you in whip cream and roses, and take your picture – which will then be e-mailed to all your contacts, including your mom.  “But why, Hook?” you ask? Two reasons: A) I don’t want to have to walk in on you – even if you are female and hot, and B) it’s just plain stupid. And believe it or not, this has happened more than once, including the whip cream and mustache aspect. 

7)  Hookers are people too.  Yes, they have sex with people for money, but they’re all lonely little girls at heart. They just wear too much make-up, ridiculously tight clothing and curse a lot.

8)  Expect the unexpected and nothing will surprise you – ever.  Believe me when I tell you, I’ve seen everything. And yet, I know I haven’t seen anything yet…

9)  Simply because a person appears to be human doesn’t mean they have a soul.  I’ve met people on both sides of the hospitality fence that are capable of great acts of inhumanity.  I’ve encountered, gamblers, cheats, thieves, wife-beaters, killers, liars, dealers in all forms of contraband and virtually every form of sinner on the planet.  But I still believe in the concept of a healthy, productive, civilized society – on paper, at least.

10)  People are capable of ANYTHING.  Period.

That’s all for now, folks. Be good to yourselves, all right? After all, you deserve it, don’t you?

BECAUSE SHE’S TOO GOOD NOT TO PLUG…

Yes, the wife is going kick my ass for that word play, but here’s the latest offering from Becca Cord: 

Flyte
me

So I quit my day job. Today is my last day of work, and I am flying out Friday to vacation in Michigan through Memorial Day. I am here today to simply assure you, I will be coming back HAM on the blog and BeccaTube upon my return. It’s going to get hard core in here. And I’m not even talking porn.

But in the mean time, I have two favors to ask:

1. Y’all trooped up and got me nominated for the Badass Blogger Awards in TWO categories (Funniest Blogger and Funniest Vlogger). Su-weet. Now the voting phase is in full effect. So this is my “Becca for President” plea. If you enjoy my humor, I would appreciate your vote. BUT, I also have to say, there are a couple of other bloggers I respect who are also nominated for the Funniest Blogger category, so I want to support votes for them too. Also, if you don’t vote for TJ in her categories then I…. I…. I will do something really bad. I seriously admire her drive and passion for the art she creates.

Seriously though, regardless of who you are voting for, the important thing is that you do it! Click here meow. Voting ends May 31st.

READ MORE HERE:

It's Nerdrific!

It’s Nerdrific!

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It's Book Launch Week!

Reblogged from Leanne Shirtliffe ~ Ironic Mom:

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Don't Lick the Minivan officially launches on Wednesday, May 22 so it's a busy week.

MEDIA: Tuesday, I'm on Calgary Breakfast Television at 7:12 AM and then on Alberta Noon's call-in show on CBC Radio from 12:30-1:00 PM (unless the rumour about Edmonton's mayor retiring pushes me out of that latter slot). Both segments are live which means you have the opportunity to watch/listen to me mess up in real time!

Read more… 143 more words

Leanne Shirtliffe is everything I'm not: affiliated with an actual publisher, a regular on a version of Breakfast Television, a capable parent who knows how to spin her parenting mistakes into funny yarns and a good soul who has it all together. This is my contribution to her media blitz. Enjoy and I'll see you soon...
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A Guest Post (Kinda, Sorta) From Miss Four Eyes.

A BRIEF JOKE FROM THE HOOK

VACATIONING ZOMBIE: (Chuckling like a fat guy, which he was.) I’d love to tip you, Boss, but I don’t believe in tipping!

THE HOOK: Well, some people don’t believe in the female orgasm, sir, but that doesn’t nullify its existence.

THE LONG-SUFFERING WIFE: He’ll never believe in that, trust me!

And so, as the Vacationing Zombie reeled from the double shot of burn, his wife tipped me a twenty.

I love a happy ending.

Moving on…

My life is a swirling vortex of chaos right now.

Normally I would share the details of my personal struggles with the many challenges Fate has seen fit to place in my path, but the truth is, I’m simply not up to the task. I’m not ill or suffering marital strife, I simply need a few days to be Robert Hookey rather than The Hook.

And so Miss Four Eyes has offered to lend a hand, or rather a post. Of course, she has no idea she did this, but her subconscious contacted me telepathically and said, “Post this!”

It also said, “I’m naked, bitch!”.

But that’s another story altogether…

Enjoy this guest post by my blogging partner and I’ll see you in a few days, gang.

Baby Making Machine

I didn’t realize I was a woman until college.

What I mean is, I knew, of course. But it didn’t hit me that there was a major difference between being a man or a woman until someone pointed it out in college. I’d heard mothers say that they wished their daughters had more female role models to look up to. I always wondered as a kid what that meant. I didn’t feel like I had been deprived of anything. I looked up to people like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, they were my heroes. It didn’t matter that none of these people were women. I didn’t see a difference. They were people and I was just another person. We were the same with one difference, they were successful and I aspired to be.

MaleFemale role models

What’s the difference?

READ MORE HERE!

This a brief, but powerful post that demonstrates how deep a prank can cut when implemented by a douchebag. Miss Four Eyes is one of my faves and she exposes her vulnerabilities with this one, but in this case, the results are gold.

See you soon, folks. Be well.

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What My Eyes Have Seen: Sunday Morning Edition.

A weary midnight bellman, his mind and body aching from the burn of the midnight oil.

Unbalanced, drunken females, giddy with exhaustion, their words slurred and their minds a cyclone of foggy memories best left unexplored.

An overzealous traveler pacing the lobby, eager for the swimming pool to open.

Eager bus drivers and tour guides pacing in the early morning sun, desperate for the bellman to deliver their charges’ belongings to the front of the building.

Ripped flyers and newspapers, cigarette butts and crushed cans of Red Bull and blue Solo cups (Yes, blue!), strewn about the road and flower beds.

A blood-stained sidewalk.

All before seven a.m.

Such is the lot of yours truly, the first bellman on shift Sunday morning.

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Reblogged from drinkswellwithothers:

 

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The Wisdom of Hook, Observations, ‘Cons and Plugs.

The majority of my guest interactions are limited to the standard formula: I load-up/drop-off the luggage, hopefully receive a tip, answer a question or two and move on. However, on those rare occasions that I share a small piece of my inner being with a guest, amazing things can happen.

Well, at the very least, mildly interesting things…

THE QUESTION: (Posed by a freshly-minted bride after learning I have been with Mrs. Hook for almost twenty years.) “Wow, you’ve been married for 18 years! What’s the secret?”

What, indeed.

THE ANSWER: (My answer, at least.)

“To begin with, be prepared to embrace the notion of Acceptance.”

“As in accepting the other person for who they really are, as opposed to who you want them to be?”

“No, as in accepting the fact that no marriage is perfect. Far from it, in fact. Prepare to feel completely screwed at times, because unless you married a machine you’re going to have to deal with human failings on a regular basis. The trick is to find the right person to screw up with.”

“Really?”

“Really. And be prepared to fight. A lot.”

“Really?” she repeated, giggling all the while.

“Couples that don’t fight are more likely to divorce or step out of the marriage. If you love someone, I mean really love someone, you need to have passion. And passion isn’t limited to the good times.”

“I guess that’s where make-up sex comes in.” she whispered, fearful someone would hear her in a deserted ballroom.

We were packing up the remnants of her wedding extravaganza and her curious mind couldn’t resist picking my brain. And so I shared a few bits of my wisdom concerning the fields of marriage and interpersonal relationships between those who have a penis and those who do not.

1)  When cohabitating with a person of opposite gender, it is best to break wind deliberately. Break the ice, as it were. It’s going to happen anyway, so you might as well take control of your destiny – and bodily functions – and get it over with. 

2)  Guys, always put a gift away in a secure place, for a rainy day when you need a “get out of jail free” card. (Trust me, you never know when its going to pour.)

3)  WOMEN ARE ALWAYS RIGHT.  (If I have to explain this, you’re already dead.)

4)  If you can’t master that which you don’t know, find a friend who can. In my case, this applies to virtually all home repairs. But remember, I mean well.

5)  The past will always return to bite you in the ass, so always try to tell your partner as much of the truth as you can. Personally, this rule has saved my bacon more times than I can count. Lies will sink you, my friends.

DISCLAIMER:  I have been informed by my wife that I do not actually posses “wisdom” per se, I have opinions, some of which are “the ramblings of a dumbass.” In my defense, I am a dumbass who means well.

Moving on…

I rarely write about the inner workings of the micro-reality that is my place of business – which explains why I’m still working here while writing a blog about the hotel biz – but sometimes things happen that are worth bending the rules for.

For example:

1)  We’ve replaced the giant fish tanks in our rooftop restaurant with two 51-inch televisions – that play a loop of fish swimming in a tank.

2)  My job depends on my ability to expedite my duties quickly and efficiently; that becomes next to impossible when my resources are depleted by other departments. While questioning a colleague about missing carts his fellow renovators have appropriated, I found myself fighting the urge to bang my head slowly and quietly against the basement walls.

“No sir, I don’t have ‘em!” was my colleague’s “honest” response. No sooner had the words left his forked tongue when my eyes caught a glimpse of three familiar sets of wheels rolling by at the end of the hall…

Thirty minutes later, three carts had been recovered. Thirty-one minutes later I remembered the limitations of my pay grade. I’m not the guy who gets paid to worry about such matters and so I’ve resolved to let others sweat the small stuff. 

3)  A group of squealing teenage girls spent a full twenty minutes drooling at the site of a construction worker slicing up metal braces with a motorized saw.  (And you’re correct if you’re assuming my knowledge of power tools is quite limited.)  The young ladies were hypnotized and released a series of high-pitched screams as sparks flew across his manly frame. (Honestly, their combined pitch had every canine within thirty miles howling like a group married men at a bachelor party. In Vegas.)

“That’s so cool!” they giggled in unison. “You really know what you’re doing!”

“Well, I know how to handle my tool!” was his porn star-worthy retort.

He then lifted a Tim Hortons coffee to his lips, walked away…. and tripped over a pile of rubble as he looked back at his pack of followers.

I love my job and the point of view it affords me.

Be well, my friends.

A COUPLE OF THINGS BEFORE WE PART WAYS…

June is in sight, my friends, so here is another plug for what is sure to the kick-ass event of The Hook’s summer…

It's Nerdrific!

A WORTHY SHARE: A RED CIRCLE ON THE CALENDAR

Little Miss Wordy  has written a book. What else do you need to know? Okay, a little , maybe. Take it away, Miss Wordy…

Red Circle Days

This week I finally received complimentary copies of my book, Red Circle Days. I can’t begin to express what it feels like to hold my published book in my hands, see my words in print, my face on the back cover!

We all have dreams, and as we strive to make those dreams a reality the road is ever-changing. The smoothly paved stretches can be encouraging yet also deceiving at times, causing us to relax a bit and slow our pace, never anticipating the mountainous climb that awaits just around the bend. As we turn the corner and come face to face with yet another obstacle on our path, another winding twist, we take pause and wonder if we have what it takes to continue the journey.

In light of this reality, we question our very dream, the dream that at one time energized, lit a fire in us that we vowed nothing and no one would ever extinguish. It is when the climb is the steepest, that we allow the thought of quitting to enter our mind, overshadowing all the visions we spent so much time playing and replaying in our mind, like the reel on an old plastic viewfinder…each click an indicator that we’ve left one image behind for our eyes to focus on another, yet each image is part of the bigger picture we must always keep in our line of vision.

In that moment, the moment of doubt, the moment of questioning, the moment of fear, we may slow down or even come to a complete stop – weighed down with insecurity. The important thing is to take a deep breath, revisit that technicolored dream and allow ourselves to believe once more.

Those of you who have expressed an interest in a signed copy of the book, please contact me directly to place your order. Those who have already purchased a copy, I thank you for making me one of the Publisher’s Top Sellers right now, but even more for your support!

If you haven’t gotten a copy, here are a few options: AmazonKindleNook, the Apple iBookstore, and Sarah Book Publishing.

BUT WAIT!  THERE’S MORE!

May 9 has come and gone, so put aside the gas bill and your kid’s college fund contribution and pick up Leanne Shirtliffe’s first literary offering…

BUY THIS BOOK!

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