I work at a large and well-appointed luxury hotel. We get a lot of weddings, and a lot of those are next-level extravagant, but that means the extra extravagant open bar is a bit much for some of the guests.

A drunk couple is passing through the lobby, from the ballroom where the wedding is taking place toward the elevators to the rooms. They are stumbling comically left and right, but the wife definitely seems a bit worse for wear than her husband.

I wave at them as they go around the corner toward the elevator and continue with my night audit duties. I look up a few minutes later to see the husband standing in front of me.

Husband: *Slurring* “Can I get a luggage cart?”

Me: “Of course! Would you like me to have that sent up to your room?”

Husband: “Nah, I’ll take that with me now.”

He’s still a bit unsteady on his feet, so I offer to get someone to push the luggage cart to his room for him.

Husband: “Actually, maybe just come and see for yourself.”

Since the lobby was empty, I followed him around the corner to the elevators. I was not prepared for what I saw.

His wife was passed out drunk halfway in and halfway out of the elevator on the lobby floor. The doors were legit opening and closing on this woman, and she was not budging… or even aware.

Since they were both on the heavier side, I was unable to move her right there, so I rushed back to fetch the luggage cart, and between us both, we got her onto it before either she or the elevator broke.

I called our strongest busboy to meet the husband and wife on their floor to assist in “escorting” the wife from the luggage cart onto the bed, and I had an interesting story to tell the morning manager!

My husband and I have a daughter who is almost three, and I’m about six months pregnant with our son. On a frigid, snow-bound January day, my husband’s parents are getting ready to leave for a week-long trip. Because of the weather, my husband, who will be going over each day to check in at the house, asks if they can just make sure to feed their two cats and the chickens early so that he doesn’t have to make the trek while the weather is still treacherous. They agree, but after they get to the airport, my mother-in-law calls.

Mother-In-Law: “The chickens are fine, and so is [Cat #1], but [Cat #2] got out. Can you please go over when you get the chance and make sure he gets inside for the night?”

[Husband] says sure, he’ll wait a few hours and go then so that the plows have a chance to come by.

When he gets there, [Cat #2] is waiting by the door to be let in — and then promptly darts back outside after eating his dinner. [Husband] tries to go after him, and he slips on some ice. Thankfully, he doesn’t hit his head, but he does land hard on his butt, and he gets a sore wrist. After waiting a bit to see if [Cat #2] will come straight back, he returns home and catches me up on what happened.

Husband: “I figure I’ll wait until after [Daughter] goes to bed, and then I’ll head back and try one more time to get [Cat #2] inside for the night.”

Me: “Do you want me to go instead?”

Husband: “No, it’s still so slick and cold out there. I’d be worried about you and/or [Son] getting injured.”

[Daughter] goes to bed around 8:30 pm, and at 9:30 pm, [Husband] braves the frigid night one more time. Around 10:00 pm, my phone rings.

Husband: “Honey, [Cat #2] is inside and safe, but I managed to lock myself out, and my car keys are on the kitchen table inside. Can you come get me?”

Me: “Oh, s***. Okay, I guess I’ll wake [Daughter] up and bundle her into the car with me… WAIT! Can you call [Neighbor] and see if he can come over?”

Thankfully, [Neighbor] answers his phone and says he’ll come right by so that [Daughter] isn’t alone in the house. When he gets there, I express my thanks and get to my car as quickly as I can without slipping.

When I get to my in-laws’ house, [Husband] uses my spare to get back into the house and get his main key fob, we double-check that the cats are accounted for, and then we head home. After thanking [Neighbor] for his time, I see that it’s basically 11:00 pm and look at [Husband].

Me: “Can that please be the last adventure for the night?”

He agreed — but I was barely surprised when he came down with a sore throat and headache the next day.

CONTENT WARNING: Blood

My husband and I went on daily walks while working from home during the [global health crisis]. I was pregnant at the time, so it was especially important to get some movement in.

I started getting a lot of nosebleeds during the winter, which my obstetrician assured me was normal during pregnancy. We were out for an afternoon walk when my nose suddenly started to bleed. We’re talking out of nowhere, a flood of blood like the elevator doors opening in “The Shining”.

We were about a block from home at that point, but I didn’t have tissues or anything on hand to stop the absolute torrent of blood.

My husband ran home while I leaned over a fence. I was heavily dripping blood, but standing that way meant it dripped on the ground instead of pouring down my face or clothes.

He ran back a few minutes later with tissues to help staunch the blood long enough for me to get home.

Husband: “I hope none of the neighbors saw that! You’re doubled over bleeding from the nose as I run away from my pregnant wife!”

A man approaches me in the kitchenware department looking a little lost.

Customer: “I’m looking for a threek?”

Me: “Sorry, a what?” 

Customer: “A threek. My wife told me to look in the kitchen section.”

Me: “Can you describe it?”

Customer: “Like a fork, but with three prongs instead of four, so… a threek.” 

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I think your wife might be pranking you. We don’t sell three-pronged forks, and if we did, they’d still be called forks.”

Customer: “So, you don’t sell threeks?” 

Me: “I don’t think anyone does.”

Customer: “Typical. I won’t hear the end of this when I get home.”

I worked at a fancy historic hotel, and we only took reservations from local residents under specific circumstances like if they were part of a reservation block or if they called ahead and discussed their stay with a manager. (We’d had a LOT of issues with locals booking rooms for parties, etc., and leaving them trashed.) If you lived locally and stayed there, it was a special occasion, not a place you went because your power was out or whatever.

If someone had stayed with us before, our reservation system would automatically fill in the blanks when they swiped their credit card. I had a woman who was part of an event group come up to pay for her room. She swiped her card, and details popped up.

Me: “Oh, welcome back, ma’am! Looks like your card is already in our system… under [Male Name]?”

Woman: “Right, that’s my husband. He’s already in your system?”

Me: “Yes. For your convenience, we store some basic information about our guests. That way, we don’t have to fill out the whole form every time.”

Woman: “But… we live here down the street. Why would he have stayed here?”

Uh-oh… There’s a woman’s name on this file, too. If it was her, she’d already know.

Me: “Uh… well… that I don’t know, ma’am. I’m really not allowed to release any other information about his file since you aren’t on it.”

Woman: “Uh-huh. Just him?”

I froze solid and stammered for a moment, trying to find the corporate-approved words for “No, but I didn’t say that.”

Woman: “Well. That’s interesting.”

And a very angry-not-at-me woman finished checking in.

I wanted to tell her outright so badly, but I also didn’t need to get fired. I wonder how it went.