This may sound odd, gentle readers, but I rarely get the chance to bring order to my little universe.
Oh sure, I fight back – in my own fashion – but my actions are limited to a small-scale and restricted by a code of conduct designed to ensure my premature termination prior to my plans for world domination reaching fruition.
However, now and again The Hook is able to extract sweet revenge upon those who would do him wrong.
Like the young couple who checked in with enough booze for six people! They were friendly and reasonably intelligent, but they gave of the vibe of a couple who make a habit of stiffing service personnel. In other words, they were in good company in my little corner of the hospitality world.
And so I unload the luggage and as I’m finishing, my young “friend” decides to mix things up and make it snow inside the hotel!
YOUNG WOULD-BE GRIFTER: Sorry man, we don’t have any money at the moment…
This is a good time to share one of my standard operating procedures…
HOOK’S RULE #1: If you’re going to bust a guest’s ball’s, pick your target well! Know who you’re dealing with. Size them up accurately: “Will they react badly? Will they laugh, cry.. scream?”
Fortunately, after fifteen years I know my stuff. So when I’m told a guest has no money – supposedly – I have to gauge my response appropriately.
THE HOOK: Really, sir? (Pointing my eyes downward to a stack of twenty-dollar bills on the desk) Really?
Buddy just stood there with the stereotypical “Deer in the Headlights” look… until he simply gave up.
YWG: I guess I should have thought that one out better, right?
THE HOOK: May not have been a bad idea, sir…
And so I wound up with $20 in my otherwise light pockets. That was Saturday afternoon…
Fast forward to Sunday morning check-outs – crazy on toast – and a group of fifteen Kardashian wannabes with really bad attitudes and no patience. In other words, they were going to make fifteen great ex-wives someday. They called twice and even after I informed them of my imminent arrival they called again!
KARDASHIAN WANNABE #1: We’ve been waiting…
Of course, you’ve been waiting bitch! I can’t get to the room before you call! Sorry, but sometimes a harder edge is called for.
So I get to their rooms – three in total – only to be told they intend to carry most of the luggage – Lululemon bags, plastic Dollar Store bags, booze, party favors – themselves.
KW #2: Like, we have three different cars, you know? So we’ll take most of it ourselves.
KW#3: You can take my straightener, though. But be careful, it’s hot!
KW #4: (To #3) Just like you, right?
KW #5: Yeah, but unlike her, someone actually used the straightener!
That was my cue; contrary to popular belief, not all guys like to watch cat fights!
CAN’T WE GET JOEL OSTEEN TO EXORCISE THE DEMONS FROM THESE REALITY TV DOORKNOBS?
It is now 3:13 PM, and Sunday afternoon check-ins are in full swing. A candidate for “Asian Mother of the Year” just stunned the gathered throng in the lobby with the depth of her stupidity.
She strapped so many bags to her son’s stroller that she exceeded the basic laws of gravity and the little guy tipped over! There he was screaming and thinking “Why couldn’t I have that “Tiger Mom” doucebag for a parent? She never takes her eyes off her kids!”
I’m guessing, of course, but you get the idea; the little guy got screwed over in the caregiver department. To my credit, I didn’t engage this hosebag, although I definitely should have. I was busy with other guests who were horrified by the whole affair. “How come it’s easy for some women to spread their legs but everything that comes after is so difficult?”
That exact quote came from an African-American Mom, by the way. And in case you’re wondering, the little guy was fine although I’m certain Fate isn’t done with him.
Not by a longshot.
Where were we?
Oh yeah, the “Keeping Up With The Wannabe Kardashians”. So anyway, they stiffed me downstairs, after I stood in the cold for ten minutes loading their parents’ Uplander! Gotta love those young girls with stars in their eyes and nothing in their heads, right?
Getting back to my lovely check-in crowd, I’ve had the distinct pleasure of serving several elementary school principals this afternoon, Or as I like to call them, “Hosebags in Cheap Suits/Pantsuits”
Teachers are the unsung heroes of our society, no question. A principal – most of them at least – is a moron wrapped in an idiot. Seriously, these people are truly dense.
The irony is thick enough to choke Rosie O’Donnell. And she can pack quite a bit down that throat. Food, that is. Getting back to the principals’ convention that has transformed my little hotel into the hospitality equivalent of The Bermuda Triangle, here’s a single call that defines the entire event.
- Four teachers.
- Ten bags.
- One room.
- A two-dollar tip.
No wonder our kids hate school!
- The Hook Is An Army Of One… (youvebeenhooked.wordpress.com)
- #172: LEGO Friends: A Terrible Thing or A Non-issue? (thebookofterrible.wordpress.com)
- The Hook’s Definitive Guide to Tipping and Service. (youvebeenhooked.wordpress.com)