Work has sent me off to Chicago to conduct a training. I have arrived at the airport in San Diego, but the plane is delayed. It happens, but I’m now worried about my connection since the flight is not direct.

While we’re waiting, there is a small earthquake. Is this going to affect my flight? Yes and no. It is large enough to be felt but small enough that they’re just taking the reports of all the staff that there is no damage at face value and continuing. But my flight is still delayed. What was supposed to have been a 9:00 am flight is now well after noon, but it still hasn’t been canceled.

The flight finally comes, but I have clearly missed my connection, and by the time they get me onto a new plane for Chicago and I get into O’Hare, it’s about midnight. The rental car agency has closed, and I need to get to North Chicago, about thirty miles away. My hotel is also up there.

My first decision is to find a room where I am, get my rental car in the morning, and hightail it up to my location to hopefully get there in time. However, the cost of the hotel by the airport is outrageous, so I make some more phone calls and find a long-haul taxi service to get me to my hotel. I have called to let them know that I am here but I’m stuck at the airport.

Fortunately for me, the training is taking place at a location right across the street from the hotel, so I don’t need transportation if I can just get to the hotel. They understand and say that they’ll be waiting for me and will have all the paperwork set up so that all I’ll need to do when I get there is sign on the line and I can go straight to bed.

The taxi driver is very sympathetic to my plight.

Taxi Driver: “How are you going to get back to the airport?”

Me: “I’ll either have someone at the training give me a ride back or find another taxi service to get me back.”

Taxi Driver: “No, no, I’ll have none of that. When is your flight out, and when do you expect to be done with training?”

I tell him, and I point out that the timing is such that I’ll pretty much need to leave immediately after the training in order to have enough time to get to the airport and through security to make my flight.

Taxi Driver: “I’ll make sure that I’m available at that time.”

He gives me his business card.

Taxi Driver: “Call me an hour before you think you’ll be done so I can be there to collect you.”

The next day went off pretty much just fine. I did my training, I called the driver, and he came to get me, driving a bit quickly (but not recklessly) in order to get me to the airport on time.

To that taxi driver, thank you so much for this. I’m sure that part of it was that you’d have a good fare, but it was still exactly what I needed given the predicament that I was in.

And by the way: when I got to the hotel, the paperwork was right there, I signed, and they directed me to the room that was right there on the first floor by the front desk: room 101.

It was actually a very nice room.

My husband is supposed to go to a conference in a big American city. However, a hurricane has just come through our home province in Canada. We have no power, and there’s some damage to our property. I’d have trouble dealing with all of this alone, especially as we have small kids, so my husband decides to cancel his travel plans. He calls the hotel.

Husband: “Hi, I’m supposed to arrive tomorrow, but I need to cancel my reservation because we’ve just had a hurricane come through here.”

Hotel Staff: “Sir, we require seventy-two hours of notice to cancel, or you will have to pay a reservation fee.”

Husband: “I understand. But I didn’t know in advance that I wouldn’t be able to travel.”

Hotel Staff: “But we will have to charge you a cancellation fee.”

Husband: “Okay. It is what it is, I guess.”

Hotel Staff: “If you cancel with less than seventy-two hours of notice, you have to pay the cancellation fee.”

Husband: “Yes. I understand.”

Hotel Staff: “Please hold. I have to get my manager.”

He’s put on hold for several minutes before the manager comes on. 

Manager: “Sir, if you cancel your reservation with less than seventy-two hours of notice, you will have to pay a cancellation fee.”

Husband: “Yes, I got that.”

Manager: “If you give us seventy-two hours of notice, we can waive the fee.”

Husband: “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind next hurricane, I guess.”

I work the morning front desk shift at a long-term stay hotel on an island in the Pacific Northwest. Today, a guest encounter at first gave me anxiety, but then I got a good laugh when it was all over.

In the pass down from the night audit shift, I read that a guest had called down to report that the air conditioning wasn’t getting cold enough. The night audit employee offered to fix it — very easy button-pushing involved — and the guest declined service, yet the note said they were extremely upset. They were rewarded 10,000 member points, and [Employee] apologized profusely. So, it was clear we had an entitled jerk to deal with.

Later in the morning, this same guest called down and said their room was “too hot” (72°F) and they didn’t sleep at all. My manager happened to be the one to answer their call, and wow, did it escalate. When [Manager] offered to come up to the room and fix the air conditioning (again), I could hear the guest shouting over the phone.

Guest: “Absolutely not! I’m naked right now! Jesus Christ. How many times have I told you it’s too hot in here?!”

My manager turned bright red.

Manager: “Ma’am, you’ve given us no opportunity to fix this problem, and we are willing to award you more points for the complaint; however, we suggest you seek accommodation elsewhere if our hotel is not to your liking.”

The guest screamed something again and hung up.

A few hours passed, and I was ready for a fight when the problem guest came to the front desk to check out. She glared at me as I was printing her receipt and asked a series of confusing questions about where she had parked and how to take the closest exit there.

Guest: “As you can see I’ve injured my leg; there is a brace and there are pins in it. This pharmacy in your stupid town doesn’t have my medication, so I’m pissed off at the world. Also, I found two fleas in my room, and I don’t have a dog!”

I politely handed her the receipt and finally looked up to make eye contact and tell her goodbye. Her mask said — I swear to God — “Shut up, Karen,” in big white lettering.

I’m still not over the irony of it all.

I work in a hotel. A week or so ago, a newly hired housekeeper found a .357 Magnum with the hammer cocked in one of the rooms and freaked out. She called the head housekeeper, who grabbed it without gloves (she got in trouble for that) and took it to the office. The police were called and they took it away.

Our hotel is a budget hotel and used to be a lot worse where violence, drugs, sex work, and crime in general are concerned. Our new management has been cracking down on that and issuing Do-Not-Rents as necessary — a lot, sadly. The last gun violence that occurred here was two years ago when a murder fugitive had a shootout with police and died. Since then, we’ve had the occasional high-strung guest point a gun at staff, but nothing beyond that.

Today, a young guy with multiple facial tattoos walks in. There is a ton of cursing on his side but I’m not going to type that all out; it’s in nearly every sentence.

Guy: “I stayed in room last week, and I forgot my gun. I need it back.”

Me: “Okay. Can I have your ID, please?”

I know the room wasn’t registered to him; it was registered to a single female with no other guests listed.

Guy: “Why? I just need my gun back.”

Me: “I need to verify your identity before I can give out information for your room, sir, for security purposes.”

Guy: “What?! That’s stupid. I forgot my gun. I told you it was there, and I know you have it. No one else asked you for a gun, just me, so why do I need an ID?”

Me: “Again, sir, it’s for security purposes and the safety of our guests. I am not allowed to release private information to anyone other than the registered guests. I am not going to violate that policy, especially where firearms are concerned. If you cannot produce a valid ID, I cannot release any information. I’m sorry.”

Guy: “I know you have my gun, and you’re not going to give it to me. That’s stealing! I’m going to stand here until you give me back my property.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t allow loitering.”

Guy: “I’m not loitering! You’re not giving me my stuff!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police and have them escort you off the property.”

Guy: “Then call them! I don’t care!”

So, I called them, and they arrived fairly quickly. After forty-five minutes or so, they arrested him and took him away. I’m guessing he either had a warrant or was a felon in possession of a firearm. I’m not sure why it took so long to identify him, though.

A guest storms into the lobby.

Guest: “Your parking garage doesn’t have enough clearance for my Hummer!”

Me: “There is uncovered parking across the street, ma’am. If your Hummer doesn’t fit in the garage, you could park there.”

Guest: “That’s so unsafe! Go outside and raise the parking lot with a stick or something!”

Me: “That… is physically impossible for me to do.”

Guest: “Well, then you shouldn’t be working with people!”