Fun Fact: I originally published this post without a title, which doesn’t seem so bad until you figure that over three thousand people received an untitled message from The Hook. So now over three thousand people think I’m asking them for money. Or breaking up with them.
The hospitality biz is all about extremes; it’s either as ridiculously-busy as Tim Roth was in Four Rooms, or as incredibly dead as Jack Nicholson’s chances of scoring a quiet winter working vacation in The Shining.
So I wasn’t shocked when I had to deal with a five hundred room exodus of lawyers, an incoming convention of insurance agents, the usual traveling suspects and two buses on a Wednesday afternoon. All at once, naturally.
Buses are always a thrill ride to serve. Just like Forest’s box of chocolates, you never what you’re gonna get. Lost bags, Crasian tour guides, (crazy Asians) broken pieces of cheap luggage, suitcases-turned-caskets for deceased cats. “I couldn’t bear to leave Lucky behind!” (#TrueStoryISwearToGod)
Believe me when I tell you that I’ve seen it all. A lady asked me to put her mother’s urn (containing her mom, naturally) on my cart the other day. “I’m not releasing her here… I just wanted to take her on a road trip!”
And so was I surprised when I arrived at a room to deliver two pieces of bus luggage and a towering male tour guide, sporting a dirty t-shirt, rumpled brown hair and a Seventies ‘stache – oh, and no pants – answered the door?
But then things escalated. I’ve always tried to multitask (why screw up one task at a time when you can create one big debacle, I say) and so I dropped the pantless dude’s bags and then as he was opening the door I placed four bags in front of his neighbor’s door across the hall.
And that’s how it happened.
Four sweet, literally grey-haired old ladies opened their door to retrieve their bags.
Pantless tour guide opened his door and without looking down shouted, “Hey, Boss! Where’s my luggage?”
The ladies gasped at his appearance. Can you imagine growing up in an age where people were ultra-polite to one another, observed a strict moral code – wore pants in public – only to survive long enough to see society go right into the crapper?
As for the worst tour guide ever, he took no notice of the ladies’ obvious discomfort, merely shouting, “Hey there, ladies! How are ya?”
Of course the ladies were frozen in horror, so I attempted to steer the conversation away from the mouse-in-the-hallway. (There was no way what this guy was packing could be mistaken for an elephant.)
“Your bags are right there at your feet, sir. I’m sure you want to pick them up and head back inside… and maybe get changed?” was my best attempt at putting this half-naked genie back in the bottle.
But this guy wasn’t having any of it. “Hey, ladies, Have you eaten yet? Want to hang out later?”
The ladies were still paralyzed with shock/horror so I had to step in again as I walked away.
“But you’re already hanging out, sir.”
And with that, he finally looked down at his state of undress, thus giving the ladies an opportunity to quickly answer, “We’re ordering in!” before slamming their door fast enough to generate a back-draft.
See you in the lobby, folks…