(My hotel has several annual conferences that come with VERY high booking demand. Because of this high demand, we are very strict about when we open the block of rooms to be sold; the group is informed of the exact date and time that the rooms will be available for reservation. I work overnight, and a block of rooms is slated to open for one of these conferences at 8:00 this morning. As soon as the clock hits 12:00 am, the phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]. This is [My Name] speaking; how can I help you?”

Caller: “Hi, I’m calling about booking some rooms for [date] for [Conference].”

Me: “I see; I’m sorry, ma’am, but that room block will not be available to reserve for another eight hours.”

Caller: *somewhat rudely* “Well, I was told it opened today.”

Me: “It does, ma’am… eight hours from now.”

Caller: “Ugh… all right, fine.”

(She hangs up and I go on with my duties. A few minutes later, the phone rings again and my coworker picks up. After a brief conversation, he looks at me and rolls his eyes.)

Coworker: “She wanted that block, too, and said she was told it opened at midnight.”

Me: “Maybe someone gave a group the wrong info? Well, regardless, we can’t sell it until eight.”

Coworker: “Yeah, that’s what I told her.”

(Again, we resume our duties, until about another fifteen minutes later when I get another call, this time from a representative from our corporate reservations line.)

Representative: “Hello! I’m calling from [Brand] Central Reservations! I have a guest on the line who is looking to book for [date]…”

Me: “For [conference]?”

Representative: “Yes!”

Me: “I see. Unfortunately, that block doesn’t open until 8:00 am local time.”

Representative: “Oh… Well, this guest said she stayed up specifically to make this reservation as soon as possible.”

Me: “I understand, and I am sorry that she may have been given incorrect information, but we cannot sell that block of rooms until the set time.”

Representative: “I see. Well, I will inform her. Thank you for your time!”

Me: “No problem.”

(I hang up and my coworker gives me a questioning look.)

Me: “Pretty sure these calls are all from the same woman. What, did she think the old ‘Mom said no so I’ll ask Dad’ tactic was going to work?”

(We did get a few more calls that night from people trying to book early, but none were as persistent as the first woman!)

(I am a housekeeper in a hotel in my town that holds a lot of contracts with companies, meaning they get a discount price when they use us. One of our biggest contracts is with the railroad; we have rooms set aside for transport — in and out constantly because they are driving the trains — and some who are long-term that are brought in to work in the area for a long period before moving to the next location.

This involves a guy in a crew that is part of the long-term group. For the record, a lot of them have told me they don’t actually have a permanent address — that they literally live out of hotel rooms and just stay with family if they have a break between jobs.)

Coworker: “Hey, do you have room 123 on your list?”

Me: “Yes, they had their ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign up.”

Coworker: “Well, I just had a guy tell me to clean his d*** room.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll go now.”

(I head to the room, and when I get there the sign is still up and I hear people inside. I knock and identify myself as housekeeping. The guest opens the door.)

Guest: “About d*** time.”

Me: *smiling* “Hi, my coworker said you asked for service. Is there something specific you needed?”

Guest: “I need my f****** room cleaned! I have been here almost a week and no one has been doing their jobs and f****** cleaned it.”

Me: *keeping my nicest smile I can* “I am sorry about that. I noticed your ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign is up; may I ask how long it has been up?”

Guest: “I put it up when I got here so no one comes in when I’m f****** sleeping.”

Me: “I’m sorry for the confusion, sir, but we are not allowed to enter a room when the sign is up without permission, and as the sign indicates, we cannot disturb the person to ask for it. Technically, since it’s still up, I shouldn’t have knocked.”

Guest: “I don’t want you to disturb me when I am sleeping but I still want my room cleaned! God, you are stupid!”

Me: *still smiling* “I am sorry, sir, but we have no way of knowing that you are not sleeping unless you take it down.”

Guest: “So, you won’t come in at all unless I hunt you down like an animal and ask? That’s bulls***!”

Me: “A lot of guests do not like the idea of strangers being in their room so they keep it up at all times and ask if towels or any other items are needed.”

Another Guy In The Room: “So, that’s why you asked if he needed something specific?”

Me: “Yes, sir, most common requests are fresh towels or for us to take out the garbage.”

Guest: “Well, I want my entire room cleaned.”

Me: “Yes, sir, but in future, you will either need to take down the sign or again ask for assistance.”

Guest: “What if I forget to put it up?! I don’t want you in the room while I’m sleeping!”

Me: “We always knock first but if no response is received and we enter to find someone sleeping we leave immediately. But the door does have a deadbolt; if you lock it no one can enter, not even with our master key. If you want, you can lock your door so if your sign is not up we will knock but we can’t come in.”

Guest: “Really?”

(With the door open, I lock the deadbolt and use my key, showing him that it won’t unlock.)

Guest: “Well, the sign is only for when I am sleeping.”

(Thankfully, the other guy in the room convinced him to leave me to clean in peace. This guy had one of the dirtiest rooms I had ever cleaned. Since we are not allowed to touch guest’s stuff we have to clean around it. The bathtub had a black ring around it and there were personal hygiene products all across the sink and clothes everywhere that made vacuuming impossible, and I had to hop to get to his bed which, thankfully, didn’t have anything on it.

The worst was the kitchen. He had trash and dirty dishes across the counters as well as food and other things. Each room has recycling and two garbage cans; all were empty. We are allowed to empty the cans, but we can’t clean up since we cannot guarantee what is garbage and what isn’t.

While I was cleaning the front desk came to tell me I had transport rooms that needed to be cleaned ASAP and thankfully saw the mess, which was good because the guy actually complained that I didn’t properly clean his room. When asked, he said it was still a mess and that I didn’t do his dishes.)

(I am working the overnight shift at a hotel. At shift change, my coworker warns me that a guy was in earlier today and was so drunk that he could barely stand. Lots happened, but eventually, the police were called and he was taken away. The cops said he would probably be back to pick up his things once he sobered up, probably about six hours later, which would put him squarely in my shift. My shift goes well to start, and then, around 1:30 am, a guy comes in.)

Me: “Good evening. What can I do for you tonight?”

Guest: “I need to check in.”

Me: “Okay, do you have a reservation?” 

(All of the reservations for the previous day are in, so I want to make sure he’s at the right hotel.)

Guest: “No, I need to make a reservation and check-in.”

Me: “No problem.”

(We go through the normal questions — how long are you staying, what type of room, etc. As I get his info, I realize that this is the same guest I was warned about, who technically still has a room but has not paid for his stay tonight. He has also smoked in his room, which means I can’t use his deposit to pay for tonight’s stay as it will be used to cover the smoking charge.)

Me: “Okay, it looks like your previous reservation was extended, but I do need payment for tonight still.”

Guest: “Oh, okay.” *pulls out his wallet and starts looking through it* “Oh, man, I’m going to have to pay with my card.”

Me: “That’s not a problem; we take credit cards here.”

(I’m thinking to myself, “Great, I’ll have a card and won’t have to worry about any other potential damages.”)

Guest: *spends a minute fumbling with his wallet* “Sorry about that. Here you go.” *hands me his driver’s license*

Me: “This is a driver’s license. I need a credit card.”

Guest: “Oh, this is my only card. Can I use my credit card?”

Me: “Yes, I can take a credit card.”

Guest: *hands me his driver’s license*

Me: “This is a driver’s license, not a credit card.”

Guest: “Oh, sorry. I’ll have to use my credit card to pay. Is that okay?”

Me: “Yes.”

Guest: *hands me his driver’s license again*

Me: “Sir, this is not a credit card. I can’t take this.”

Guest: “Can you try it?”

Me: “There’s no chip or mag stripe for me to run through the machine. It isn’t tied to any financial institution or bank account; there is no way for me to take payment from a driver’s license. If you left your card in your room I can escort you down to get it so you can pay.”

Guest: “That would be great! You’re a lifesaver.”

(I escort the guest down to his room and I wait just inside the room with the door open while he goes to look for his card. He spends about fifteen minutes looking and eventually, I have to return to the desk to help another guest. I tell the guy I’ll be back in thirty minutes to get payment or he will have to gather his belongings and leave. About ten minutes later, the guest returns to the desk.)

Guest: “Found it!”

Me: “Perfect! Let’s get you taken care of.”

(I go to run the card, and I realize it’s a Visa Debit, which I have to run differently than a regular credit card. I fix the mistake and pass the terminal to the guest.)

Guest: *starts typing in PIN*

Me: “Wait, you can’t do your PIN yet; you need to follow the prompts on screen.”

(The guest finished and, surprise, surprise, his card was declined. He went back to his room to transfer funds to his account. Hopefully, he comes back and his card works, because I dread having to call the cops on him again.)

I work in a hotel. I was put on light duties for a while, despite my protests, due to an unrelated knee injury. So, one morning, my list of rooms consisted mainly of stayovers — people who were staying multiple nights and just needed amenities refilled and a quick spruce — to avoid too much kneeling and crouching. 

As my coworkers and I arrived on the floor we’d been assigned, we all noticed a peculiar and unpleasant smell, but we thought nothing of it, gathering that it was probably just musty towels. Everything was fine until I entered one stayover room, a [Popular Children’s Show] themed room. The first thing I noticed was how difficult the door is to get open. The second thing I noticed was how the worst of the odor was coming from this room. And, when I finally got the door open enough, the third was the sheer mess.

Trash was literally ankle-deep and seemed to consist of towels, take-out, dirty and questionable clothes, cigarette butts, and all manner of other debris. The glass balcony door was coated in finger and handprints and what looked like licking marks too high to be made by a small child. The beds were a complete disaster, and while I never did get to see the bathroom, as it was behind the main door, I was assured it, too, was awful.

I don’t really know how long I stood there, just staring, because I jumped a mile when one of my colleagues pulled me away to lean on the wall, one offered me a water bottle, and another ran to fetch the floor supervisor. I remember I was crying, thinking that this was the room that would get me fired, since we had a certain timeframe for each room.

[Supervisor] came to look the room over, whipped out a camera — standard floor supervisor gear, I later gathered — to take pictures, even wading through the garbage to get good shots, and asked the other three to split my board.

He took me to his office down in the basement, and I figured this was it. Now I was crying a bit harder, since I really needed this job. But instead, he had me fill out a report, asked if I’d be comfortable talking to corporate, and let me gather myself together before heading back up to assist with the rooms. He warned me to keep everyone away from that room and alert him when the occupants returned.

An hour later, I saw a family entering the room and collected [Supervisor] from down the hall. He went to meet them, and last I saw, he was escorting them down to the first floor. I wasn’t privy to all the details until I had to speak to corporate, where the questions I was asked put together most of the pieces.

Turns out, they had been at the hotel for all of two days. They’d been smoking inside — which required tampering with the smoke detector — clogged the drains in the bathroom, and had brought in lice and bedbugs on their persons and luggage. They had had “Do Not Disturb” signs on the door before but had neglected it that morning.

I was asked if they could use my report in court, hinting at destruction, child endangerment, and various other charges. The entire room had to be closed off and stripped to sanitize and remodel. The family stoutly refused to pay, which caused a very prolonged case. I do remember asking if it was legal to keep me informed of how things went.

What didn’t take long was the three children involved being removed from the situation by a relative. Why? Because, apparently, the excuse they used for the room being in that state was that “their son was [ableist slur].” That was it. No other reason. They truly believed that they could leave the room a sty without any sort of consequences just because their child had a mental disability.

FYI, folks, that is no excuse to trash a room. And if this is how you leave a hotel, I shudder to think about your home. I’m just relieved that all of the kids are, hopefully, finally someplace safe.

I am a massage therapist at a hotel spa on the beach. Yesterday, I had a client who was scheduled for an eighty-minute Swedish massage. That is almost an hour and a half of being in an enclosed, private room with me essentially rubbing over 80% of a client’s body with my hands. 

With the viral situation, our numbers have obviously dropped as people aren’t traveling as much and are scared. Unfortunately for me, that means that this lady is my first and only client of the day.

At her scheduled appointment time, I walk up to her and greet her while holding my hand out to shake hers. She immediately held her hands close to her body.

 Client: “I don’t shake hand!”

 Me: “O…kay.”

 I brush it off, and continue.

 Me: “Have you chosen a scent for your massage?”

 She then picks up each one of our six scent testers, with her hands, and brings them right up to her nose where she breathes in and out… like every other person who had ever been in our spa.

When I finally get her back to the room and on the table, I ask at the beginning of the massage:

 Me: “Would you like your hands avoided?”

 Client: “No. Just don’t touch my face.”

So you won’t shake my hand, but you’re comfortable with me putting my hands all over you and breathing on you?