Dogged With Complaints

, , , , | Right | June 24, 2017

(I work front desk at a hotel. We have a strict policy on pets. While pets are welcome to stay at the hotel, we do charge a hefty price for their stay. On this particular day there is a local dog show event in the area. We’ve been getting guests all day staying with their dogs. This guest is no different.)

Me: “Hello, welcome to [Hotel]. Checking in?”

Guest: “Yes, I would like to get a room for the night. It’s just me and my friend, so we would like a room with two beds in it.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. So, what brings you to the area?”

Guest: “Oh, I was showing my dogs at the local dog show.”

Me: “Oh, that’s sounds awesome. Just so that you’re aware, we are pet friendly, but it is $20 per pet per night.”

(Guest stops mid-sentence and looks at me like I just slapped her across the face.)

Guest: “Excuse me? That is a rip off!”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, but it is our company policy.”

Guest: “But they’re show dogs! They’re not some ordinary filthy animal; I demand I be charged less for my dogs. I want to speak to a manager!”

(So, of course I oblige and call my district manager and tell him about the situation. He tells me that it’s all right if I charge her only $10 per dog as long as she doesn’t have more than two dogs with her in the room.)

Me: “I just got off the phone with my manager. He said that we can reduce the cost of fee down to $10 per dog. How many dogs will be staying with you?”

Guest: “That’s the best you can do?! This is ridiculous! They’re show dogs! I should not be charged this much for them.”

Me: “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry for this inconvenience, but that is as low as I can go on the price.”

Guest: “Fine! I’ll just go somewhere else!”

(Guest leaves in a huff. I go back to what I was doing. Not even an hour goes by when the same guest comes back, practically yelling the entire transaction.)

Guest: “Well, I guess we are just going to have to take the room. No one else around here will accept my dogs! I demand we have a room next to an entrance on the first floor away from other guests.”

Me: “I only have a couple rooms left; we are rather full tonight. I will try to get you as close to an entrance as possible.”

Guest: “Unbelievable!” *shaking head, looking like I’m the stupidest person she ever saw*

Me: “I am able to get you a room on the first floor and it’s as close to one of the entrances I can find. I just need you to sign and initial this registration.”

(On our registration form, the guest must initial for the rate they agreed to pay, initial if they brought any pets and how many, and sign at the bottom. Once the registration form is signed, no refund can be given if they have an issue with the price of the room, and if there is any damage done to the room they will be charged for the incidentals. She signed the registration form stating on it that she only had two dogs in the room and left with her keys. Now, at the front desk, we have a screen with cameras on it that cover all the hotel and entrances. I watch as she starts to unload into her room. She and her friend bring in not two dogs, but five! Needless to say, with permission from the manager I charged her the original price of $20 per pet for the additional dogs. I heard later that she talked with my manager about the extra charges and he pretty much told her off, in a polite way, of course. Thankfully we didn’t hear from her again.)

The Write-Up Is Complimentary

, , , , | Working | June 23, 2017

(Two young girls approach me and ask to use our store phone to call their parents since their phone died. I let them dial but since they are calling long distance it doesn’t work. The only way to contact their parents is on their dead cell phones so I give the girls my phone charger and let them charge it behind the counter. They go on a few rides and come back, thanking me profoundly. A few days later my team lead approaches me.)

Team Lead: “Two girls left you a good reviews on Tuesday.”

Me: “Oh, really? Wow, I’ve never gotten that before.”

Team Lead: “Yes, but they say you let them charge their phone behind the counter?”

Me: “Oh, yes.” *explains situation*

Team Lead: “Okay, I see, but we’re still not allowed to do that. I’m going to have to write you up!”

Me: “But what about their compliments? No harm was done and I made their day!”

Team Lead: “It’s the rules, sorry.”

(So I was written up BUT I was also awarded by my supervisor two free tickets as a reward for the compliments. Way to confuse your workers.)

Living In A La La Land

, , , , , | Working | June 22, 2017

(I’m conducting a disciplinary meeting with an employee who has numerous customer complaints, late punches, and missed days. His department head is there as my co-manager.)

Me: “I need you to understand that this meeting is your last warning. If you have any issues over the next month, we will be letting you go. Now, we need to look at these write ups one by one, and you will have a chance to discuss each one, okay?”

Employee: “No!”

Department Head: “Are you putting in your resignation?”

Employee: “No, you’re just doing it wrong! You’re supposed to say two nice things for every bad thing. You said something mean, so now you have to give me two compliments.”

Me: “I’m not saying anything mean; we are just reviewing the facts. Okay, the first write up was from your supervisor, and—”

Employee: “I’m not listening until both of you AND [Supervisor] say something nice!”

Department Head: “Okay, this isn’t the point of a disciplinary meeting—”

Employee: *putting hands over his ears* “LALALA! I CAN’T HEAR YOU! LALALA! NOT LISTENING! LALALA!”

(This keeps up for a minute while we sit shocked, then I turn and print out and sign the paperwork that terminates the employee. The whole time he has his hands over his ears and is yelling. He finally stops when security arrives.)

Employee: “You can’t fire me yet! You said I’d have a chance to explain my write ups! This isn’t fair!”

Me: *quietly to the department head* “Lalala, not listening.”

Shouldn’t Have Gone Down That Rabbit Hole

, , , , , | Right | June 21, 2017

(I work as a freelance contractor doing computer repair and sometimes take on wiring projects, too. An apartment complex hires me to fix their private cable service across one of their buildings. I am in the unit of four Spanish-speaking young men. I am male, solidly built, but have back trouble and don’t want to aggravate it by moving heavy furniture.)

Me: *in English since I know at least one of them speaks some English* “Can I get some help moving your TV cabinet from the wall?”

One Of The Young Men: “Why, you can’t do it yourself?” *laughter from all four men*

Me: “I’m sure I could but don’t want to risk damaging any of your things. I just need room to open up the cable jack in the wall and test it.”

(Still laughing, one of them helps move the TV cabinet out.)

Other Young Man: *whispering* “Coneja.”

(Directly translated, “rabbit.” However, I knew the term also is a derogatory slang term related to female anatomy.) The others join in, laughing, “Ay, coneja. Sí, coneja.”)

(The whispered jokes continue with more laughter while I open the cable jack, quickly find the problem (poorly attached connector was about to fall off), fasten a new connector and repair the jack, and turn the TV on.)

Me: “It works, see? Now can we move the TV cabinet back in place?”

One Of The Young Men: “Okay.” *turns to other men and whispers* “Qué coneja.” *what a “rabbit”*

(As I am leaving, I turn back to them:)

Me: *all in Spanish* “Have a nice evening and enjoy your cable!”

(Four shocked and mortified faces stared at me as I closed the door.)

The Number One Problem Here Is The Manager

, , , , | Working | June 21, 2017

(We’ve had a little accident with a five-year-old who has wet himself. He’s crying quite a bit as his mum tries to sort him out. We have a cleaner sorting out the mess. After he is tended to, he and his mum come out and see our manager glaring at them. He speaks to the boy first.)

Manager: “You should be ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! HAVE YOU NO SELF CONTROL, YOU ANIMAL?!”

Mother: “Excuse me; that’s my son. He’s only five!”

Manager: “AND HAVE YOU ANY PRIDE, WOMAN?! BRINGING AN UNDISCIPLINED MAGGOT INTO MY SHOP, PISSING EVERYWHERE. GET OUT NOW, BEFORE I HAVE BOTH OF YOU ARRESTED!”

(The mother looks horrified as she rushes her son out of the store, while our manager follows her out, screaming louder with every sentence. After they leave, he addresses us.)

Manager: “That is how you handle white trash. The lowest most despicable vermin of our society. In future, if you ever see people like that again, you have my permission to drag them out.”

(I’m too petrified to speak, but am eyeing the door and considering just leaving and never coming back. The feeling seems to be hanging on everyone’s head, but a head supervisor is the first to speak.)

Supervisor: “I may as well pack my bags now then.”

Manager: “What? But you’re my best!”

Supervisor: “I also have a maggot who also wets himself. Yes, I said it. WETS HIMSELF! I hope your mother wasn’t too harsh on you to think it is all right to scream at a five-year-old for an accident. I’m off!”

(This is what broke the silence and we all voiced our disapproval before leaving. The manager sputtered out an attempt at back-pedaling, but it fell on deaf ears. He had to call HR and explain why he needed replacement staff, and according to the other management, got a stern talking to from his manager, who just so happened to have a son around the same age as the boy.)

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