Some People Are Not Made For Hotels

, , , | Right | March 30, 2020

(I think this might be the most unpleasant guest I’ve ever dealt with. He comes in very late at night, past midnight, and I greet him as I normally do.)

Me: “Good evening! Checking in?”

Guest: *shortly* “[Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, I’ll just need your ID and—”

Guest: “Is there a parking charge?!”

(There are no signs on the property stating this — we have to mention it at check-in — but it is posted on our website. The only thing that could be prompting this question would be prior knowledge.)

Me: “Yes, it’s $10 a day.”

Guest: *scoffs* “Well, I’ll be speaking to your manager about that in the morning; that’s just ridiculous!”

(I’m about to write this off, as most people get upset about the parking charge, but then he THROWS his ID at me. This is a pet peeve of mine, admittedly, but it’s because it sort of rattles my anxiety, so now I’m getting a bit ruffled.)

Guest: “And I want a room away from the road!”

Me: “Okay… Just to make sure, would this side of the hotel be okay for you?”

Guest: “I. Want. To. Be. Away. From. The. Road.”

(I asked because we’re pretty much surrounded by roads. Not that it really matters since you can’t hear a d*** thing from outside in the rooms no matter where you are, but I just pick a room on the quietest road.)

Me: “Okay, so, I’ll just need you to put your card in the chip reader there.”

Guest: “What’s this total?! What’s that about?!”

Me: “It’s the total for your two nights plus taxes and a hold for incidentals; that hold will go back, too.”

Guest: “I’ll be talking to your manager about that, too! I don’t agree with that!”

(He starts handling the CC machine rather violently, actually knocking it off its mount and then stabbing buttons like it’s the machine’s fault it’s now wobbly. My anxiety levels are rising. Finally, he pulls his card out.)

Guest: “There! Are we done here?!”

Me: “Yes, sir, I… er…”

(I notice that his card has not gone through; it specifically tells me that it’s because he hit cancel.)

Me: “Sir, you have to approve the transaction or I can’t check you in.”

Guest: “I did!”

Me: “Sir, it tells me here that you pressed cancel.”

Guest: “Well I don’t agree with that.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you have to approve it or I can’t give you keys.”

(He glares at me, but he puts his card through properly and then snatches his keys and parking pass from my hands before stalking upstairs. I breathe a sigh of relief… until he comes back downstairs minutes later.)

Guest: “Do you have access to housekeeping?”

Me: “Well, if you need something I can have it brought up to—”

Guest: No. Do you have access to housekeeping?!”

Me: “No.”

(Technically, I do, but I am not supposed to leave the desk unattended and I’m not making an exception for this jerk.)

Guest: “Well, I’m supposed to have two extra pillows in my room and they’re not there! It’s in my profile that I get two extra pillows; there’s no reason for them not to be there!”

(First of all, there is no such note in this guest’s profile. Second, with him being so specific about his room location, even if we had pre-delivered him pillows we likely would have had to change his room on check-in, which would mean his new room would not have his requested pillows.)

Me: “Well, sir, I can have some pillows delivered to your room for you.”

Guest:No. I’ll wait for them here.”

(He hovers around my desk — further increasing my anxiety — while my security guard, who acts as housekeeping overnight, retrieves his pillows. He meets her in the hall, taking the pillows and immediately sneering.)

Guest: “These aren’t feather pillows.”

Security Guard: “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

Guest: “Do you have— No. You know what, I know you have feather pillows! Go get me feath-er pillows!”

Security Guard: “I’ll have to go upstairs for those, anyway, so why don’t I just bring them to your room?”

Guest: *pause* Fine. I’m in [Room].”

(The guest then stood outside the door to his room while the guard collected his pillows. Meanwhile, I put together a little list of all his behaviors, his guest profile, and his room number, with instructions for the morning manager not to give him a red cent when he inevitably complained.

I’m sure he’s one of those people who wonder “whatever happened to good customer service,” painfully oblivious to the fact that you won’t get good service if no one WANTS to give it to you.)

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Action Disfigures

, , , , , | Right | March 30, 2020

A few years ago, I got a temp job in customer services for a large toy retailer. This company has pretty strict return policies and it’s standard procedure to ask for photos if a customer claims an item is damaged. 

I’ve only been there a few days when I get a customer email claiming some action figures broke into small pieces. I send our script response apologising and asking for photos. When I get a reply, I open the photo but something seems off and I call my colleague to take a look. The more we look, the more obvious it is; the photo is very clearly faked! It wasn’t even done well. 

In the end, my supervisor tells me to just follow our script and tell him to return it for a refund as we can’t accuse him outright of lying. The customer tries to claim that he has thrown away the figures as they were a choking hazard to his kid. He gives up once I say there is nothing we can do without returning the item. 

Out of curiosity, I look up how much the figures are worth. He went to all the trouble of faking the photos for the sake of £15 worth of action figures.

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Ordering To Go, Just Not Going Right Now

, , , | Right | March 30, 2020

(I work in a small café that offers a food selection of mostly baked goods and a few hot items. The customer has ordered several hot items, and the transaction has proceeded normally until after she has paid and I have handed over the receipt.)

Customer: “Now, don’t start my food yet. I’m going to come back later, and show you my receipt, and you can make it then.”

(My store has never offered a service like that; we don’t have the fridge space to keep food for a later order aside, and we wouldn’t want to run out of an item that a customer had “reserved,” so we don’t allow orders like this.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that for you. I can wrap the food up for you to-go—”

Customer: “No, I don’t want it to-go; it won’t be hot then. I just want to come back and get it later.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t take an order now that’s not supposed to be made until later. If you’re worried about a line, we have online ordering which you can do on your phone, so you can just pick it up when you’re ready.”

(The online ordering also doesn’t allow for customers to set a time to pick up; as soon as an online order comes in, it goes straight into our queue.)

Customer: “No, I paid for the food, so I should get it when I want it.”

Me: “Ma’am, you paid for the food right now. Our service provides the food when it’s ordered; we can’t keep food on reserve for you.”

Customer: “But I have my receipt.”

Me: “That doesn’t matter.”

Customer: “I wouldn’t cut line or anything, I’d just wait and then show you my receipt.”

(Internally, I wonder why she wouldn’t just wait through the line and reorder later, but I just stick with what I’ve been saying.)

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t do that. Our system isn’t set up for orders like that. I can give you your food now, or I can refund you, but that’s all.”

Customer: “Fine. Refund me.”

(Later that afternoon, when I was clearing tables, I saw her still sitting in the café, but she never came up to reorder her food. I’m not sure if she was running some type of scam, or if she really just didn’t understand that “I can’t do that” means that I can’t do that.)

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The Owner’s Bark Is Worse Than The Pet’s Bite

, , , , | Right | March 30, 2020

(I am working at a fancy vet office close to the rich part of town, so most of our clients are more willing to do what is necessary for their pets regardless of cost. An older couple brings their senior small breed in for teeth cleaning.

The vet assistant is responsible for going over admissions paperwork that includes optional services and a section that would allow the doctor to do teeth extractions without calling the owner first. We include this option because many times, we cannot get a hold of the owner to ask permission. after the client has been placed in a room I enter ready to go over paperwork.)

Me: “Good morning! I have some paperwork to go over with you really quick, and then we can take [Pet] back and get him started with his procedure.”

(The woman starts to fill out the form while I’m going over what each section is. When I get to the part about optional services that, of course, cost extra, i.e. nail trims, more in-depth blood work, etc. She throws the pen down and starts yelling at me.)

Woman: “Don’t you dare try to sell me something!”

Me: “I am sorry, I was just going over the form; these are additional services you can add on if you’d like but you don’t have to.”

(She just stares at me sternly, so I move on to the part of the form that allows the doctor to do extractions.)

Me: “Okay, do you allow the doctor to do what is necessary as far as extractions go or would you prefer—”

Woman: “I told you not to sell me anything. I don’t want to hear it! If the doctor wants me to do something she can tell me herself!”

Me: “Okay, would you—”

(I was going to say, “Would you like me to get the doctor?”)

Woman: “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!”

Me: “Fine.”

(I leave the room and go get her doctor and tell her that she needs to go into the room and finish the check-in, because I will not be talked to like that again. The doctor knows who the couple is.)

Doctor: “Oh, yeah, they can be weird like that.”

(Apparently, after the doctor went in, they were all smiles and agreed to let the doctor do whatever she needed to.)

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A Wordsliposaurus

, , , | Right | March 30, 2020

(My husband and I work at the same hotel; I am housekeeping and he’s at the front desk. A fellow housekeeper quit, so even though I’m part-time, I’m working six days a week while my husband has his normal full-time hours.

I am assisting with planning my sister’s baby shower which is the day after my son’s birthday. Exactly a week before my son’s birthday, my father has a heart attack which, thankfully, he survives. I am giving this information so one can understand how crazy things are.

We decide to do a last-minute party on my son’s birthday two days away since it’s my husband’s day off before I go to work. When we confirm this, I literally run to the bakery for a cake. When I get there, it is busy; I manage to place a late order for the party.)

Baker: “Writing?”

Me: “Happy Birthday, [Son].”

Baker: “Colours?”

Me: “He likes blue… and green… and red… It doesn’t really matter; he likes all colours.”

Baker: “Would you like flowers or balloons or something?”

Me: “Yeah, that would be great.”

Baker: “Which one?”

Me: “I’m sorry, umm, actually, would it be possible for a dinosaur?” 

Baker: “Sure, you can bring in a picture and we can put it on the cake, but it’s much more expensive.”

Me: “No, it doesn’t need to be fancy. I was thinking like a doodle of one instead of balloons. My son is turning three; he will recognize it even if it’s not pretty.”

(The baker looks at me a little confused and I ask to borrow her pen and paper and draw a head long neck and body.)

Baker: “Oh, now I understand. Well, everyone would know that’s a dinosaur, and that should be easier than flowers.”

Me: “And my boy is obsessed with dinosaurs, so he’ll be so happy.”

Baker: “Okay, it will be ready at [time] on [birthday].”

Me: “Okay, great, thank you for being difficult.”

(I turn to walk away and I realized what I said.)

Me: “Oh, my God! I meant to say, ‘Thank you, and sorry for being difficult.’!”

(Thankfully, the baker thought it was the funniest thing she had ever heard and was laughing… as was literally everyone who heard me.)

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