Purveyors Of The Night Market

, , , , , , | Legal | July 9, 2018

(I am the night audit supervisor on a quiet night at a four-and-a-half star hotel when I get a call from one of the guests, a pilot with the British Royal Air Force.)

Me: “Good evening, front desk. How may I help you?”

Pilot: “Yeah, I want this girl out of my room.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir? Did someone get into your room?”

Pilot: “She’s in the bathroom; I want her out.”

Me: “Is this woman a guest of yours?”

Pilot: “Well… Yeah, but she won’t come out!”

Me: *rolling my eyes, guessing what type of “woman” is in his bathroom* “Okay, sir, I can ask security to come by and help you to convince her to come out.”

Pilot: “Yeah, okay… but what about my money?”

(I hesitate, as my first instinct is that the guest is asking us to refund his room for the inconvenience, but he cuts me off before I can say a word.)

Pilot: “She’s got my money.”

Me: “The woman in the bathroom, sir?

Pilot: “Yeah, I want my money back.”

(I am smirking silently to myself for having confirmation of the type of “woman” who is in his bathroom. I have a bit of a discussion, back and forth, with the guest, explaining that while security might help convince the woman to come out of the bathroom and leave, he cannot force her to return the money. The pilot then decides to call the police and hangs up. I shake my head to myself, fully knowing what the cops will do. After a while, two police officers get to the hotel and I escort them to the pilot’s room. The female officer walks in very slowly, comes around the corner from the entrance, and sees the woman — who has come out of the bathroom in the meantime — in the corner of the room. She smiles, points to the woman and joyfully shouts out:)

Policewoman: “CINDY!”

(The pilot’s jaw must have been going at Mach-3 as it dropped to the floor from realizing that the cops, of course, would not force a prostitute to return money she got in an illegal transaction with a mark.)

In This Hotel, I Am The Law

, , , , | Legal | June 25, 2018

(I’ve worked in hotels for over two decades now and this is my favorite response to give out, to those guests who for whatever reason get to the point when they blurt out a line to the effect of:)

Irate Guest: “…this is unacceptable! I have a high-price lawyer, you know! And I will sue you, your boss, and your hotel!”

Me: *killing them with kindness* “Please do, sir! [Hotel Chain] has three entire floors of a high rise building in Washington, filled with lawyers who have very little to do but wait for a case to fall on their desk. I’m sure yours will start a real feeding frenzy amongst those piranhas!”

He’s Not Worth Mar-Greeting

, , , , , | Right | June 13, 2018

(I am waiting for my tea latte to be done when a rude man comes, orders, and then takes other people’s drinks, one being mine.)

Man: “Miss! You put the wrong name down. My name isn’t Moorgreat.”

(Yeah, he pronounced my name wrong.)

Barista: “Sir, that’s probably because you grabbed the wro—”

Man: “No, I did not grab the wrong one! You just spelled my name wrong! I want your manager! This is third time you have made a mistake!”

(I have now gotten next to him and grabbed my drink from his hand.)

Me: “It’s pronounced ‘Mar-Greet.’ This is my drink. Yours are over there, getting cold.”

(The man was speechless and looked around to the glaring people, and then he took his drinks and left. Everyone got their right drinks and I bought a muffin for the barista.)

Medical Bills Paid By Friends’ Bills

, , , , | | Hopeless | May 30, 2018

(I stop in the pharmacy to get some medications for my husband, who recently lost his job because of a medical condition. We were already on income support because I am physically disabled and this has been a hard hit to our income. We just found out the income support system is about to revoke our benefits unless we can prove that he does not willfully leave his job by the end of the month. With a toddler and both of us needing the medical coverage, this is terrifying. Our normal doctor is on maternity leave until January of next year and her covers won’t help us because they don’t want to deal with the system. The same story goes with every doctor we see. They all insist they need to have been seeing us for at least three months before they’ll even consider it. Neither of us have any family or support, as we were both runaways from abuse. By this point, I am counting change, trying to figure out if I have enough to get the medication we both desperately need.)

Stranger: *taps me on the shoulder* “Hey, let me get that for you.” *tries to shove a ten dollar bill in my hand*

Me: *close to tears* “Oh, no! I really can’t. Thanks, anyway.” *tries to give it back*

Stranger: “Nah, keep it. Or, hey, tell you what…” *hands me a twenty and takes the ten back* “There. Fair trade.”

(By now I was seriously crying and didn’t notice the older man’s mother coming up beside me. Gently she took me by the elbow and they both lead me away from the pharmacy counter. They started asking me questions and I admitted that we were struggling and how scared I was. They started brainstorming between the two of them and gave me numbers to doctors they trusted. They took my email and gave me their phone numbers just in case. As a last thing, they took the twenty-dollar bill, and the man shoved a bunch of money into my bag, saying he wouldn’t take no for an answer and just to pass it on when I had the chance to help someone else. I realized that yes, I needed that help right then. I stopped fighting, figuring it was at most forty bucks but would help pay my kid’s school fees. When I got home and took the money out, I was shocked to see that instead of just a small amount, he’d put five hundred dollars into my bag. That money did help keep us afloat for the next week as we paid bills. We finally found a doctor willing to help us and our income has since stabilized. I told the stranger, who is now a supporter and friend, that we’d pay him back. He refused and told me to help others, instead. I plan to.)

Cut The Hair, Not The Bureaucracy

, , , , | Right | May 10, 2018

(I am sitting in a barber shop waiting for my turn. This place is part of a chain and everyone is asked their phone number and name to go in their system.)

Hairdresser: “Welcome to [Store]! Have you checked in online?”

Customer: “No. I’m just here for a haircut.”

Hairdresser: “Okay, can I get your phone number?”

Customer: “I’M JUST HERE FOR A HAIRCUT! I DON’T WANT TO FILL IN YOUR STUPID DEMOGRAPHIC! I’M GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE!”

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