Some People Are Not Made For Hotels

(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.)