I work night shifts in what I consider a decently-sized hotel. I fly solo on my shifts, so it’s a fun combination of front desk work, handyman tasks, housekeeping, and bartending (and all the stuff that entails). It’s roughly 140 rooms. It’s a nice location with really nice regulars, as well as frustrating locals, as seems to be fairly common.

It is nearing the end of my shift one day in June 2020. Breakfast has opened, and we are approaching 6:50. My shift ends at 7:00, so I am doing my characteristic “stand and do nothing, but don’t look idle” thing, as not a lot of people are checking out.

Here comes a man to check out. He’s in plain-looking work clothes, and he’s carrying a duffle bag. He smells — not badly, just… smells like farming. I’m not bothered by this, but I sure do notice it.

Guest: “Can you look after my bag while I have breakfast?”

I don’t mind, so I carry it behind the counter and resume my thing, wishing guests a good morning and checking out the few that are leaving.

I notice something’s off. I can’t pinpoint what.

Then, something touches my leg, and it feels like it’s trying to bite me. I am startled, and I feel like a cartoon character; internally, I am screaming, and my soul is escaping my body. I’d like to think I’m still maintaining my customer service smile.

I look down… and there is the cutest littlest lamb. And I mean the littlest. I know for a fact that I’ve abandoned my customer service smile and look all kinds of confused. A lamb. In my lobby. In the city. And I haven’t ever done any drugs to suspect hallucinations.

I keep staring at the critter for a good minute or two as my heart smelts to goop. It has a collar, which I tie to the duffle bag. I walk into the restaurant and approach the guest.

Me: “There’s a lamb trying to escape, and I figured you’d be interested to know.”

I cannot in mere words explain his facial expressions; it is a contorted look of worry, embarrassment, and giggling. I ask him to come and take care of his travelmate, and we walk back to the front desk.

The fugitive has escaped my futile attempt at restraining it. It is now surrounded by the confused and adoring faces of the director, the front desk manager, and the fix-it person.

Director: *To me* “What… What is this?”

Me: “It is a lamb, and I am equally perplexed.”

Director: “Oh, yes. Yes, I’d think so.”

I’d like my guests to let me know if there’s something like an animal they are asking me to look after. But I didn’t grill the guest too badly about it. We spent a good fifteen minutes just looking at the cutie. Guests had their checkout delayed, but they were too amazed by the cute little fella.

I still think about that lamb every now and then. It was a premature lamb that was being relocated to someone better able to look after it. Its name was Lambda, and we sure were on the same wavelength.

I work the evening shift (4:00 pm to midnight) at a smaller chain hotel in our town in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I have a lot of interesting interactions with guests, but this recent one sticks out.

We had an older couple that checked in later in my shift. Soon afterward, the woman called down to the front desk to complain.

Guest: “We reserved a mountain view suite!”

She went on and on and on. When I can finally get a word in, it was awkward trying to explain it to them.

Me: “It’s currently night, and you will be able to see them tomorrow morning when the sun comes back up.”

Did they expect us to have spotlights on the mountains to see them at night?

In 2010, my mom and I attend a concert in Amsterdam. We don’t live close to the city, we don’t have a car, and public transport back home late at night is non-existent, so we opt to share a room at a cheap hotel near the venue. 

The man checking us in is friendly, though his smile has a bit of an Uncanny Valley vibe. We chat a bit and disclose that we’re in town for a concert.

We dump our stuff in the room, leave for the gig, and return sometime just after midnight, and we are greeted by the same man. Somehow, he manages to crank his freaky smile up to 100 as he asks if we enjoyed the concert and bids us to “sleep tight”, also giving me a wink. 

A bit unsettled, though tired enough to not give it further thought, we hit the sack. 

Early the next morning, my groggy mind somehow registers the word “rhino”. Pulling myself from a deep sleep, I am surprised to wake up to a room TV that’s turned on and showing a nature documentary about — you guessed it — rhinos. 

Still half asleep, I reach for the remote on the nightstand, turn off the TV, and go straight back to sleep. A mere couple of minutes later, my mom’s phone alarm goes off, signaling that it is 8:00 am and waking us both properly. 

I’m still not sure if I dreamed that the TV was on or not. I reach for the remote and turn it on again to check. 

Mom: “What are you putting the TV on for?” 

Me: “Rhinos.”

Mom: “…what?”

Me: “I thought I dreamt that the TV went on and showed me rhinos. Apparently, I didn’t dream it.”

I point at the TV, which still has the documentary on and is now showing rhinos galloping across an African desert. 

Mom: “How is it possible that the TV turned on by itself?”

Me: “Beats me.”

Now sincerely puzzled, we get dressed and head down for breakfast. There is a self-service breakfast bar, so I make myself a plate and sit down. 

Uncanny Valley Hotel Clerk is back. He still smirks at me like something out of a horror movie. I’m halfway done with my breakfast when the man comes slithering up to our table, leans over REAL CLOSE, and asks in the most terrifying, slimy tone: 

Demon Hotel Clerk: “Would the little miss like for me to make her a grilled cheese?” 

The “little miss” is in their early twenties here, FYI.

Me: “Eh… no… No, thank you. I’m good.” 

He slithered away to a back room. Mom and I exchanged a glance that translated to, “Eat the rest of our breakfast as fast as possible, and let’s get the h*** out.”

Thankful that we had paid in advance, we did exactly that, giving the man nothing more than a brief “we’regoingthanksfortheservicebye” in passing to signal our leaving.

It’s about 3:30 am on New Year’s Day. Night Audit has been wrapped up when I hear the phone ring.

Guest: “I’m calling from [room number]. It’s Doctor Bob Bobbertson!”

That’s a fake name, but the doctor part is real.

Guest: “There’s too much static electricity in my room and it’s burning my fingertips! Furthermore, the toilet won’t flush!”

Me: “The toilets can take a little while to fill due to water savers.”

Guest: “I want another room!”

Fine, whatever. If that’ll get him off my case, I’m happy to oblige. I go up to his room with the new key card and the dude hasn’t even bothered to put on pants. When I hand him a key for a room literally four doors down the hall, he starts getting even more huffy.

Guest: “I was promised the room right across from me!”

That room is a different room type, so no, also it’s still dirty anyways.

Me: “Sir, I gave you the closest clean room we have. Housekeeping is still catching up from new year’s.”

Guest: “Well this is clearly unacceptable! I’ll be going straight to the top with this! I want to speak with a manager to put this right!”

The manager is called and the guest is calmed down. About an hour later I went to his now-empty room, flushed the unflushable toilet, and took off my shoes, and dragged my socks across the floor. Couldn’t even manage to shock myself when I tried.

I googled the dude and found his ministry websites and the unaccredited Christian college that he apparently runs. No mention of any legit institution that granted him an actual Doctorate of Theology.

One time, I was travelling with my wife and our four-year-old. We had booked a room with two queen beds and a sofa bed. We got to the hotel about an hour before check-in time, and my status with the hotel meant I could ask for early check-in (up to two hours early).

Employee: “I’m sorry, but your room isn’t available yet.”

Me: “No problem. We’ll go to the park and be back in an hour or so.”

When we got back, the manager had upgraded us to a two-bedroom suite — one king bed and two full beds — for the weekend, at no extra charge.

That was two years ago, and we’ve made a point of staying at that hotel any time we visit family in that town.