In theory, a hotel should run like a well-oiled machine, especially in today’s ridiculously-overcrowded hospitality industry.
But if you run any machine 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, it’s going to malfunction occasionally. And when you add the human factor to the mix? Well then, kids, you’re going to experience some hiccups for sure.
So one when the following scenario unfolded I was anything but surprised.
Shortly after seven am, just as my workday was beginning, I received a call from our Front Desk instructing me to visit Room 1820 and pick up their luggage. So far so good, right?
The first step in a case like this is to call the room and, if necessary, retrieve the guest’s valet parking tag number, thus ensuring their vehicle is waiting when they arrive downstairs to load their car. (Pretty gripping stuff, so far, right?)
It gets better, trust me.
Check out the gentleman’s response when I inquired about his car:
“What? My car… is it in valet parking? Hell, no! I parked that bitch myself!”
Articulate, wasn’t he? Undaunted, I informed him I was on my way up to get his bags. He muttered “Okay”, and promptly hung up. Two minutes later, I was at his room, knocking away.
Turns out I wasn’t the only one.
A minute after my arrival, a very bewildered, very confused and much to my horror, a very aroused guest answered the door.
HORNY GUEST: What now?
ME: I can only assume from you’re current state, sir… uh… you’re not checking out, are you?
HG: What the hell, man! Can’t you see I’m jerking off?
GUEST: The Front Desk sent me to help you…
HG: They sent you to help me jerk off? They at least could have sent a chick!
In retrospect, that one was on me.
ME: Okay… I’m going to leave you to it, sir… sorry for the self-coital interruption.
HG: Self what?
ME: Never mind, happy stroking!
Yes, I actually got away with that one.
If only Front Desk could say the same. I gave them an earful but apparently a guest actually appeared at the desk and gave that room number.
And that’s pretty much it, folks. There were no more encounters with Mr. Happy in Room 1820. Thank god. If the mystery guest in question that started this whole debacle simply made a mistake, they didn’t call back down for help later on.
So there you have it. Another of one of my far-too-close-encounters with the traveling public.
See you in the lobby, kids…