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    Can’t Stand Up But Can Do Stand-Up

    | USA | Health & Body, Hotels & Lodging

    (I am a male in my late teens working as the receptionist at a guesthouse in a very quiet, small coastal town. I have a muscle disease and use a manual wheelchair, but I’m behind a desk all day and guests don’t usually notice. An older woman comes up to check out and seeing that the printer is out of paper, I move away from the desk to get more from the closet.)

    Me: “So, ma’am, how was your stay with—”

    Guest: *pity tone that I’ve heard many times before* “Oh no! Oh, honey, what happened to you?”

    Me: *smiling and trying to joke* “Nothing. I just ran out of paper. But don’t worry. We have more.”

    Guest: *very serious* “No, I meant… How did…” *whispering* “Was it a car accident? One of those awful drunk drivers?”

    Me: “Uh, no, actually, it wasn’t. If I could just please ask you to sign—”

    Guest: “Oh, it just breaks my heart. You’re a very brave young man.”

    (As this is happening, another guest wanders into the room to look at the bookshelves we keep stocked for the guests and overhears everything.)

    Me: *still smiling and trying to keep it light* “Ma’am, I’m really not, I promise. I just print receipts and answer the phone. Nothing too brave there.”

    Guest: “But surely you shouldn’t be working in your condition! Your parents must be so worried!”

    Me: “They’re really not, honestly. They raised me to be pretty independent, so when I told them I wanted to find a summer job, they just said ‘cool, give it a shot.’”

    Guest: *apparently TOTALLY mishearing me, looks horrified* “You were SHOT?!”

    Me: “I, wha…?”

    (At this point my coworker, who’s my age and the owner’s daughter, comes down the stairs and hears the last part. She’s petite and usually very quiet and shy around guests.)

    Coworker: “Yeah, and that’ll teach him to show up late again. Next time I’m takin’ a hand.”

    (She points threateningly at me, making a ‘gun’ with her fingers. I’m stunned, as she only ever jokes with me in private, but immediately play along and cringe as if scared of her.)

    Me: “I’m sorry, I won’t! Have mercy!”

    (The guest looks absolutely shocked, and behind her the other guest is nearly doubled over with silent laughter.)

    Guest: “That’s– I don’t– not something to joke about!”

    (She quickly grabs her receipt and suitcase and nearly runs out the door.)

    Me: *to coworker, laughing* “You know, I can’t tell if she actually thought you shot me or was just upset that you made a joke about my tragic ‘condition.’”

    Coworker: *deadpan* “She totally thought that. I’m really scary.”

    Me: “Oh, I know.”

    Other Guest: “I’m gonna leave you guys a great review online. I wasn’t expecting a complimentary comedy show when I made my reservation.”

    Coworker: *still deadpan* “It’s not complimentary.”

    Dilate It Down A Little

    | Aurora, CO, USA | Health & Body, Hotels & Lodging, Theme Of The Month

    (I’m nine months pregnant, on literally my last week before maternity leave, working the front desk. I have just checked into his room an older man, about 55 to 60 years old.)

    Guest: *turning to go fetch his suitcase from the car* “Oh, and, are you pregnant?”

    Me: “Yup. I’m due March 6th.”

    Guest: “So, are you dilated yet?”

    A Messy Apology

    | Hattiesburg, MS, USA | Health & Body, Hotels & Lodging, Rude & Risque, Theme Of The Month

    (I work the afternoon shift at a mid-market hotel, so I make a lot of welcome calls to guests that have checked in just to make sure that they like the room.)

    Me: “Hey, this is [My Name] at the front desk. How are you?”

    Guest: “I’m good!”

    Me: “Wonderful. How do you like the room so far?”

    Guest: “Oh, the room’s great, except for the semen we found on the floor… Oh, wait, that’s mine!”

    Me: *stammering for the right words* “Um, ok, well, if you have any questions or if you need anything just let me know.”

    (The guest called back around five minutes later with an apology and an explanation. Apparently, he thought I was a friend of his by the same name that was due to check in to the hotel later that afternoon. Suffice it to say he was incredibly embarrassed.)

    This Caller Has Been Barred

    | CO, USA | Bizarre, Crazy Requests, Hotels & Lodging, Rude & Risque, Theme Of The Month

    (I’m the night auditor. It’s about 3 am and the phone rings.)

    Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]. How may I help you?”

    Caller: “Yeah, I just wanted to check rates for these dates.”

    Me: “Absolutely. We have two queens or a king for these prices.”

    Caller: “Oh, okay. What is there to do in the area?”

    Me: “We’re popular for our hiking trails and outdoor activities, as well as our variety of small breweries—”

    Caller: “Are there any gay bars?”

    Me: “Not that I know of.”

    Caller: “What?! No gay bars?!”

    Me: “I’m afraid not.”

    Caller: “Well… where do you go?”

    Me: “To… the regular bars?”

    Caller: “Okay, because I got a couple of lesbians coming there for their honeymoon.”

    Me: “Well, I assure you there are plenty of bars to choose from. So, how many nights shall I book you for?”

    Caller: “Oh, I’ll have to talk to them.” *click*

    (He called and had the exact same conversation with me three more times in two weeks before getting my manager, who told him he needed to stop harassing me.)

    Should Have Released The Booking

    | Fort Collins, CO, USA | Bizarre, Health & Body, Hotels & Lodging, Rude & Risque, Theme Of The Month

    (The phone rings at about 4 am.)

    Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

    Caller: “Yes. I need to place a reservation for Monday, checking out Wednesday.”

    Me: “Absolutely. Let me check the rates for those nights.”

    (We continue our conversation; he is booking a room normally enough until I ask for credit card information.)

    Me: “Okay, you’re all set. I just need a credit card to hold the room.”

    Caller: *sounding a little taken aback* “Oh, yes… of course… Let me get my card for you. Hold on.”

    (This is followed by two minutes of muffled sounds.)

    Caller: *clearly out of breath* “Okay, sorry, had to go upstairs. Hang on, let me grab it.”

    Me: “Umm. Okay.”

    (Another 45 seconds of muffled panting.)

    Caller: “All right. Got it.” *gives me the number* “So… have you ever just, you know, needed a release?”

    Me: *pretending to not hear the question* “I’m sorry.? What was that?”

    Caller: “Okay. Thanks for all your help!” *hangs up*

    (He never showed up or called to cancel and his credit card info was expired.)

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