A while back, I was working with a friend. She answered the phone and then went on the walkie to ask someone to look into what the person on the phone wanted.
Friend: “The person on the phone wants a small white child.”
She got flustered and forgot to say it was a T-shirt. I was standing behind her literally doubling over laughing.
I am working at an extended stay property as a front desk supervisor. I was newly appointed to the role, and as such, I am ambitious to prove that I can resolve EVERY guest issue. (I will later unlearn this ridiculous expectation.)
We have a family come to check-in: a middle-aged husband and wife, and three kids ranging from seven to twelve. They are here per their insurance, as they managed to burn down their house. We are prepared for their arrival, and we offer our condolences while welcoming them to their new home for the next couple of months.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary, nor do they seem like particularly entitled guests; they’re just a family down on their luck.
Time moves forward, and shifts pass without anyone seeing them. That’s not particularly unusual, since there are multiple methods to depart the elevator — and the hotel — without interacting with the front desk.
(These are my favorite kinds of guests. They stick to themselves and don’t yell at me about how many complimentary waters are required to sustain their existence while staying with us.)
One day, a strange letter is delivered in our daily mail. The return address has the family’s last name, and it is addressed for immediate opening by a manager. I shrug, and open it, thinking Manager On Duty is good enough.
What follows is the BEST complaint letter I have ever gotten. I’ve even framed it, as it was hilarious.
This family was awoken on their first night by the exclamations of two people in the throes of making love. The headboard was pounding, the moans were reverberating, and this family was traumatized.
Family: “We could not believe that two people were capable of making noises similar to that of a dying yak. We figured this would be a godly and family-friendly hotel. How dare you allow those kinds of activities to happen within the earshot of children?! We will send you a bill for the therapy our poor children will have to endure after this.”
They did, in fact, send and attempt to sue the property over the money for a therapist. The case was dropped, as our legal team had to explain that sexual intercourse does, in fact, happen at hotels — frequently.
What gets me is that they never complained to us that night. They just packed up and shipped out.
Related:
First Time In A Hotel?
A tornado has done some damage to our retail park. As a result, the entire back-end of our phone store no longer has a roof, and our stock room’s walls are half gone. The whole area has been cordoned off, but after a couple of weeks, Corporate deems us able to serve customers as most of our stock can be on the shop floor and facilities have been provided using portable toilets.
Customer: “I need a new iPhone. I need it in space grey and with 512GB memory.”
Me: “I don’t think we have that configuration in stock.”
Customer: “Oh, you have to! I need a replacement today!”
Me: *Confirming* “I’m afraid we don’t, sir. We would need to order that in, for you.”
Customer: “Can’t you check the back?”
Me: “Not right now, sir. I—”
Customer: “Stop being lazy! Just check the back and see if you have one!”
I go over to the door that used to lead to our backroom, open it, and let the customer see the broad daylight and distinct lack of… a room.
Customer: “Well… you shouldn’t be open without a back!”
Me: “Finally, we can agree on something, sir.”
I am checking out a bickering old couple. The gentleman is moaning about the cost of everything, and the lady is explaining why she needs them. I have just scanned an air freshener.
Husband: “How much?! For some fresh air?! That’s ridiculous. Put it back!”
Wife: “Are you willing to step outside when you drop one of your eye-watering farts?”
The husband just stares at her, angry, but seemingly without an adequate defense.
Wife: “As I thought. This next item is to unclog the shower drain. Shall I go into detail about why we need that, also?”
Silence.
Wife: “Wonderful.” *To me* “As you were, dear.”
This conversation takes place over instant messaging at work.
Me: “Can I take April fifteenth as a vacation day?”
Boss: “No problem. Trouble with taxes?”
Me: “No, actually, it’s death.”
Boss: “?!”
Me: “The fifteenth is Good Friday, and my choir has several services to cover.”
Boss: “Ah, the other certainty of life. Break a leg.”
