Those Who Look Down Will Never Move Up

| AZ, USA | Working | September 24, 2012

(I was working at a hotel my last semester of college and was promoted to supervisor soon after graduating. A coworker who is male and I, a female, are checking an elderly couple in one afternoon.)

Coworker: “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Elderly Couple: “Yes, can we get some help with our luggage?”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but the bellman just left to take some people to the airport, but he will be back in 20 or 30 minutes.”

Elderly Couple: “Well, can you help us?”

Coworker: “No, that’s beneath me.”

Elderly Couple: *shocked silence*

Me: *to the elderly couple* “Folks, as soon as I finish checking in this guest, I’d be happy to assist you with your bags.”

Coworker: *gives me a dirty look*

(After helping the couple with their bags, they give me a $10 tip. I walk back to the lobby and wave the bill at my coworker.)

Me: “Don’t ever say that again. If you don’t want to help someone with their bags, say you’re unable to then ask someone else to help them.”

Coworker: *walks away in a huff*

(I walk over to the bellman’s stand and put the tip in his drawer, since the bellman work almost solely off of tips, then return to my counter. After coming back from lunch, my coworker goes over to the bellman at his stand.)

Coworker: *to the bellman* “Aren’t we not supposed to help anyone with their stuff and tell them to wait for you to get back?”

Bellman: “Yes, why?”

Coworker: “Because she took someone’s luggage up for them while you were gone!”

Bellman: “Oh, I wondered where this $10 came from. Thanks, [my name]!”


Coworker: *walks away in a huff*

Bellman: *to me* “And that is why you got promoted to supervisor and he never will be.”

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Acting Like Paris In The Hilton

| Paris, France | Romantic | September 13, 2012

(My boyfriend and I are on a big, romantic European vacation. It’s our first morning in Paris, and we want to get up early. The alarm has just gone off.)

Boyfriend: “Ugh…. Baby, get up and take the first shower.”

Me: “No! I always take the first shower, and let you sleep an extra 15 minutes. It’s not fair. You get up first.”

Boyfriend: “You’re wasting time! Get up!”

Me: “At least give me 30 seconds to wake up!”

Boyfriend: “NO!” *starts pushing me off the bed*

Me: “What are you doing!?”

Boyfriend: “Get. Up.” *fully pushes me off the bed*

Me: “Why would you do that? You’re so mean!”

Boyfriend: “Oh, my God! It’s like dealing with a two year old.”

Me: *sitting on the floor* “I really, really hate you right now.”

Boyfriend: “Stop being such a child.”

(I angrily shower and come back to the bedroom to find him sound asleep.)

Me: “Babe, your turn.”

Boyfriend: “Noooooooo.”

Me:Who’s the child!?

(We both end up giggling.)

Disturbingly Dense, Part 2

| Michigan, USA | Right | September 1, 2012

(We are a small hotel in an even smaller town. Because of our size, we only have housekeeping until about 1 pm. After that, the front desk can stock towels and things, but we don’t fully clean the room.)

Guest: “We left at 9:30 this morning to go out for the day. It is now 12:50 and we still don’t have maid service!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. We can have housekeeping come up immediately and clean that for you.”

Guest: “Absolutely not! We will be here for an hour. Then you can get in!”

Me: “Unfortunately, sir, we do not have 24 hour housekeeping service. Housekeeping is not offered after 1 pm.”

Guest: “But we put out our sign!”

Me: “The sign on the inside of the door? Your ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign?”

(Upon saying this, the guest realizes that they are in error.)

Guest: “Well, yeah… but they should’ve know we weren’t in here!”

Me: “If there is a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up, sir, they are not supposed to disturb you.”

Guest: “You are incompetent! I demand to speak to a manager!”

Me: “You’re speaking to her, sir.”

Guest: *click*

 

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Something Smells Really Fishy

, | USA | Related | August 31, 2012

(My wife and I are on a road trip out to Temecula, CA, where my parents-in-law are living. At the end of our vacation, my father-in-law will come back with us to Colorado. He loves seafood, and is worried that it will cost too much and not be fresh in Colorado.)

Father-in-law: “I just bought these fresh fish at the market here. Can I bring them back with us to Colorado so I have something to eat there?”

Me: “Well, we only have this small cooler that can fit a few water bottles. Plus, we are stopping in Las Vegas for the night so it will have to keep for two days while we drive. I doubt the fish will make it that long.”

(He argues with me a little, but in the end my wife tells him no. He makes a few fish sandwiches to eat on the road and I think that is the end of it. We drive to Las Vegas; it is August and around 100 degrees out, so we have the AC blowing the whole way. In Las Vegas, we check into our room and my father-in-law checks into his. About half an hour later, we hear a knock on our door.)

Father-in-law: “There is an awful stench in my room! I have to get a new room!”

(We follow him to his room. A terrible odor is emanating from the room. Inside, we see the fish he had originally asked to bring along sitting on the air conditioner. The air conditioner is blowing on high, spreading the smell throughout the hotel room.)

Wife: “What did you do?!”

Father-in-law: “Well, I had put that fish in my bag because you wouldn’t let me put it in the cooler. When I took it out, it smelled a little funny, and since there was no refrigerator in here, I put it on the air conditioner to cool it down!”

Taxing Faxing, Part 10

| Orlando, FL, USA | Right | August 17, 2012

(I work at a hotel, which often requires that paperwork be sent to us to verify credit cards and the like. On this particular occasion I am working with a customer whose assistant is out of town and she clearly has no idea what she is doing. Having sent me the wrong paperwork, I call her back.)

Me: “Ma’am? It appears that we have received the wrong paperwork, so if you could just fax the correct one we will be able to get everything set up for you.”

Customer: “Okay, but can you just fax that back to me, then?”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “Those papers! If they’re wrong, I need them back. Send them back to me!”

Me: “Uh… ma’am, that might be a bit redundant, but I’d be more than happy to destroy the copy—”

Customer: “ARE YOU STUPID? DON’T DESTROY THEM! THAT’S THE ONLY COPY I HAVE! JUST FAX THEM BACK!”

(It dawns on me that this customer thinks that her fax machine actually manages to somehow transport the entire paper through her machine to mine.)

Me: “Ma’am, the fax machine sends me a copy of the documents. If you check your fax machine, you will clearly see the paperwork still laying there. It doesn’t take your original.”

(I hear a frustrated sigh as she slams the phone, and then muttering and shuffling as she goes through her office. After a minute, she comes back to her phone.)

Customer: “…sorry.” *hangs up quickly*

 

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