Monday, July 27, 2009

The guests from hell.


I recently checked in a group of guests, and I'm pretty sure they are all the work of the Dark Side trying to lure me in by killing nominally innocent people.

Let me preface by saying: I don't mind mentally handicapped individuals; I'm not an asshole (believe it or not). A friend of mine works at the local MHMR clinic, and I'm an empathetic person.

I do, however, wish that when I was working, you would keep the son you didn't want from harassing me every ten minutes. I do have other guests to attend to. It is not my job to give him attention and to "fix" the computer when it won't let him watch porn.

I hate when guests pay cash. I hate it because they are assholes about having to pay the deposit; then once I get the to fork over the deposit, they don't want to pay the room rate up front as well. These guests were dicks about that, but they didn't understand me and I had to repeat to them multiple times why this is our policy. This policy exists because of people like this, actually.

They ask for the weekly rate, but because we were booked on Thursday night, I couldn't guarantee them a room. They bitch and moan to the point where I just give them the no-walk rate ($55 plus tax) and take one $100 deposit for the room.

Then the fun really begins.

Two kids, about 18 years old, come down to the front desk and demand a room. I tell them that the only rooms I have available have one bed and are smoking rooms. They scoff and tell me I'm lying. I tell them we have other rooms, but I have to have a credit card for those rooms, and they also only have one bed. They ask me what the rate is on the smoking/king room. I tell them $74.99 plus tax, which is our regular rack rate. The guests look at me angrily, lean over the counter, and yell at me that I'm lying. I tell them I can give them the manager's special of $64.99 plus tax, but that's the best I can do. They then tell me that I have given their friends a $40 rate, which is a lie, and storm angrily into the atrium. I, thinking that they are not registered guests, watch them wander aimlessly around the atrium, probably drunk (since they were such assholes about the rate thing right before), disturbing other guests, and then park their wannabe thug asses in the business center.

At this point, I'm faced with a dilemma. Do I go in there, a 5'4" unimposing white girl, and ask them to leave, risking both kidnapping, rape, murder and/or assault, or do I call the cops?

You know exactly what I did.

The cop gets here in about 10 minutes, and I explain to him what has happened. I tell him that I didn't confront them yet because they really scared me with their body language, and that they don't need to be here taking up the business center without being registered guests. The cop goes to talk to them; then he beckons me over. I go to him, only to find out that these ARE registered guests and I can't kick them out. *facepalm*

Then they come back and rent a room at the same rate as the other rooms, because mommy calls and is a total bitch to me. At this point I have no energy left, so I just rent them the damn room. The kids tell me that they will be staying four nights like the rest of the party, so I check them in for four nights. Later on, I find that they only stayed in the room one night and didn't bother to let me know or check out (nor did anyone else). The room wasn't cleaned by housekeeping and as of right now I can't rent it because the housekeepers have gone home and the room is still dirty.

Meanwhile, beginning about the time the people check in, their severely acne-ridden, overweight, retarded (and I do mean, mentally challenged) son, that apparently no one wants to help take care of, or even, god forbid, keep in the room, starts wandering around the atrium and moseys on into the front desk area. He butts in front of two other guests waiting in line, and asks if I can give him directions to a restaurant. I tell him that I cannot, that I can give him a map if he can wait for me to help the other guests.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Pimpleface comes back to ask for five extra towels to the room, after butting in front of other guests yet again. I tell him that he will have to wait for me to finish helping the other guests - AGAIN.

Ten minutes later, he comes in and asks for me to fix the business center computer. I tell him that I am not tech support and I cannot fix it. Ten minutes later, he comes in and asks again. I tell him there is nothing I can do; he tells me he will pay me, and I politely walk with him to the business center, where I find that he is trying to access a YouTube video that will not play. I again tell him that I am not tech support and I don't know how to make it work. He leaves me alone the rest of that night.

The next day, these two rooms accost housekeeping, asking for five extra rolls of toilet paper. We are running low, so housekeeping gives them two and tells them that's all we can do. Then, they start asking for Kleenex. We don't give them any.

Mom comes it at some point in the evening shift to tell me her keys aren't working. She then removes them from her bra, hands them to me, and I (choking back vomit, of course) reprogram them. She is about 300 pounds and wearing a tube-dress, might I add. You're welcome for that mental image.

Mr. Pimpleface then asks the morning clerk whether she can fix the computer in the business center again. (In the meantime, we realized that he is probably trying to access pornographic sites and is getting blocked from doing so.) He then CORNERS her in the business center and demands that she give him a hug. Luckily our manager was there and yelled loudly, distracting Retard Boy and allowing F------ (name redacted for her safety/privacy) to make a hasty exit. Do you see why I don't feel sorry for him now?

Idiot brother who I called the cops on also comes in and asks me about some website -, although he pronounces it so badly I'm not sure what he's saying and I have to repeat it back to him about three times. I realize he is asking me how to spell the site, so I write down the URL and he asks me how to spell "Costello" and "girl." Really, dude, girl? Are you illiterate?

Today, they have harassed housekeeping, asked alternately for ten or more bottles of shampoo and more toilet paper, as well as more towels (and I'm sure housekeeping didn't give us the whole story; these asshats are probably Cart Raiders to boot). They have come in and asked me for five bottles of shampoo; I gave them two and said that was the best I could do. Retard boy came in asking me for a comb; he always seems to ignore all of the other people in the room and butt in front of them to demand attention from me. He also has an unnerving habit of rolling his eyes repeatedly while looking at you; I suppose this is probably not his fault, but he's an ass and I don't care. It's weird.

Since these are cash-paying guests, they have to pay every day. They call down to the front desk and the manager (not realizing what guests are in these rooms) approves them to come in and pay at 4:00 PM. Four o'clock rolls around and no one comes by to pay. We give them until 4:30, and at this point we call the room and tell them that they have to come in and pay or they have to leave the rooms. They tell us someone will be right down to pay them up for the day. 5:00 rolls around, and still nobody has come to pay. At this point, knowing everything that she knows about what a pain in the ass these guests are, manager K------ (name redacted for her privacy/safety) tells them that at 5:30, the cops will be waiting at the door. Unfortunately (I wanted to kick them out so bad), they show up at 5:10 to pay the room. From Titty National Bank again, I'm sure (I didn't take their money).

Then, the kids I'm pretty sure are staying in that room come in and ask me for scissors, and get angry when I tell them they can't take them away from the front desk. Another kid comes in and asks me for the zip code, but apparently she's too stupid to remember it and asks me to write it down. I hand her the business card, and she asks me if "the number here" is the zip code. I tell her yes. I'm pretty sure at this point that the whole family is illiterate. I'm also pretty sure at this point, considering how much shampoo/toilet paper they have requested, there's at least 15 people staying in those two rooms, but there's no way we can prove that to kick them out. Dammit!

P.S. What the fuck are you letting breed in Arizona? Jeezus!

Post-P.S. Scissor kid just came in here to ask for change and talk to me about the suites. I told him all our suites are booked and THEN he asked if he could see one. I said, "Booked means there are people in them, so no, I can't show you one. It's just a larger room with one king-sized bed." Then he started rambling about how much they might cost and said something about $200 a night so I kind of nodded and eventually he wandered off. Then illiterate thug angry brother pokes his head in and goes, "Hey, girl" like he knows me and asks if they can be in the atrium. I was really tempted to say no.

Mom called about 5 minutes later, and here is the conversation, word for word:
Mom: "What kind of washer and dryer do you got up in here?"
Me: "We have a washer and dryer, but our washer is currently out of order."
Mom: (pause) "OH GOD."
And she hangs up.
This coming from the room that asked for 5 rolls of toilet paper and when given only 2 started to ask for Kleenex? I'm a little worried.

1 comment:

  1. I bet they overflowed the toilet and are too embarrassed to say so. 15 people? What else could it be?