Imagine being a character in a disaster movie that walks on-screen after the credits start to roll.
That was The Hook on this particular Sunday.
My colleague, “Midnight Mike, Night Bellman” informed me of last night’s shenanigans.
- Some jackass ripped the smoke detector off his ceiling, which triggered the fire alarm in the entire hotel.
- Security evicted this gearboxes’ entire group which meant six rooms were forced to leave!
- The douche in question was charged $1,300 for damages.
- Ten police officers were called in to reinforce the fire department and assist our Security with evictions.
- Simultaneously, some East Indian moron tried to force his way through the obviously long line at Front Desk but was verbally bitch-slapped by Midnight Mike.
- The best part? The East Indian goofball claimed to be a hotel franchisee, but he was staying in one of our cheapest rooms!
So that’s what I missed. As for my day, here’s what my first call consisted of..
- Two screaming kids.
- One frail, but sweet grandmother.
- One dumpy, but polite mother.
- One fat bastard of a dad.
- Seventeen bags!
- And finally, one dollar Canadian for the tip.
I received my gratuity as I was leaving the room and heading for the car. “Hey, boss.” shouted the fat bastard dad, “Take this.”
I won’t go into detail, (the HR department reads my blogs!), but my response was more than appropriate and skillfully delivered, I might add. We rendezvoused at their “Hickmobile” and I stood by as the wife lifted every single bag into the trunk as her husband sorted items on the front seat. She manged just fine without my help, but I think she was wondering just why I was inactive.
But he knew.
So when his wife’s labor was completed and I walked away, he caught up to me. “Sorry, boss.” he said, his head sunk in defeat, “Take this.” I folded the ten-dollar bill and slid it into my pocket.
My victory glow was blinding.
The aftermath of the fire alarm resonated all day. One disgruntled guest after another took shots at any and all employees in their path. “Why did this have to happen?” one particularly surly goofball asked.
“Would you rather burn to death because the system failed, sir?’ was the only response I could muster. He had no choice but to concede and laugh about the whole thing. As for the rest of the mob, they found something else to complain about: the elevator wait time.
SWEET OLD LADY: (As she exits the elevator) These elevators are a nightmare! Someone should be shot for this!
Okay, but in my defence, she looked like a sweet old lady.
The rest of the day was a blur. After the chaos that is Sunday morning check-out, it gets real quiet in my little corner. Until the buses start arriving, that is.
It was raining, just enough to piss me off, mind you. The luggage stickers we apply tend to slide off in the rain, so between the elements and my lack of enthusiasm, the task of simply unloading the bus proves troublesome, to say the least. Perhaps that’s why we made a mistake or two.
We misplaced Pamela Anderson’s luggage.
Okay, not the Pam (May Be Used As A Floatation Device!) Anderson, more like the Pamela (How Is She Still Walking Around?) Anderson, but the error is still unforgivable for a bellman.
Now you’re wondering, “Did they figure it all out?”
How the hell should I know? It was 5 pm, and my shift ended.
I’m dedicated, but only when I’m getting paid.
- Courtney Stodden or Pamela Anderson: Who Would You Rather… (thehollywoodgossip.com)