(I’m a female security guard doing my rounds on the floors when I spot a pale guy in his 30s clad only his thin underwear, facing someone’s door. Because his back is turned to me, I can’t tell what he’s doing.)

Me: “Hello! Excuse me, sir, do you need some help at all?”

Guest: *turns his head around slowly but keeps his body facing the door* “No, I’m fine. I just, uh, got locked out.”

Me: “Oh… I see.”

(I’m suspicious, because his posture looks like he’s urinating on the door. I stare at him for a while, and his face turns a bright red. Finally, I leave.)

Me: *on my walkie talkie* “[Manager], you would not believe what I just saw…”

(The next morning, the same guy came down with his wife and children, avoiding my eye, clothed this time. Please wear clothes in a hotel if you’re going out of your room for any, and I mean ANY reason!)

(I work at the front desk in a hotel. One fine morning, just before dawn, we get a call from one of the rooms plaintively asking if we could please call an ambulance. The voice on the phone is rather weak, but is very apologetic, and keeps saying she’s sorry to be such a bother, etc. I send my coworker down the hall to see if he can help her any while I make the call. The ambulance arrives quickly and the woman is bundled off, with my coworker coming back to the front desk.)

Me: “How bad is she? She going to be okay?”

Coworker: “Yeah, but you wouldn’t believe the mess in the bathroom. Whatever hit her, it was bad.”

Me: “How bad is it?”

Coworker: “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t believe me. It’s really bad in there.”

(Gentle readers, I have insufficient words to describe the mess in that bathroom. Apparently, whatever illness had the guest in its grip had her expelling from both ends, with great force. Further, she had been gripped with dizziness and vertigo, so there wasn’t any aiming for a proper target. There is vomit and fecal matter over everything — and I do mean everything — in that bathroom. A bit later, the head housekeeper comes in, and I get to practice my Spanish:)

Me: “Ah, [Housekeeper]? Por favor… 104 no es bueno.” *Please, 104 is not good*.

Housekeeper: “¿No?”

Me: “No. Es baño.” *No. It’s a toilet.*

Housekeeper: “¿Baño?”

Me: *handing her the key* “Si… Lo siento mucho.” *Yes, I am very sorry.*

(She took the key with a skeptical look; as a housekeeper, she’s seen it all. A moment later, I heard a loud “¡Ay-yi-yi!” from down the hall.)

(I work at a hotel. I’m just checking out a middle-aged woman when it comes to the payment procedure. Note that we hold the full amount for the stay and incidentals on a credit card that the customer gives us at check-in.)

Me: “Would you like to pay with the same card that we had the deposit on?”

Customer: “Yes, whatever.”

(I charge the credit card on file and print out the bill to give to her. After I give her the bill she looks at me, confused.)

Me: “Is there something wrong with your bill?”

Customer: “Well, I wanted to pay with a different card, why did you charge that card?”

(I politely explain to her that I just asked her and she told me to do it.)

Customer: “You expected me to listen?”

I’m attending a Transformers fan convention that’s taking place in a hotel associated with a very famous theme park. Said park has offered convention attendees some extra perks, such as discounts on park passes, but has also issued one rule — we’re forbidden from wearing our costumes in the theme park itself. This strikes quite a few people as an odd rule, as the company that runs the park doesn’t own the Transformers brand (yet), but as far as I know, all attendees comply.

The morning of the convention, before the dealer room opens, several people don their Transformers costumes and go down to the lobby for a photoshoot. The shoot soon progresses from simple pictures to the cosplayers posing in “battle” poses, to some mild play-fighting… until all pretense of a photoshoot is forgotten. Now there are people in Transformers costumes running around the lobby, mock-fighting, dodging behind furniture, and in general, getting really into character. Soon, a group of GI Joe cosplayers shows up, and the “battle” gets even crazier.

In any other hotel, I’m sure these antics would get everyone involved thrown out. But instead, the play-fight attracts a huge crowd, not just of convention-goers, but of regular families staying at the hotel on vacation, who have no idea what’s going on but want to watch anyhow. People are taking pictures and cheering the participants on and having a good time.

I’m watching the proceedings when I hear someone mutter behind me, “Is this some kind of promotion for a new ride or something?” And that’s when I realize that the non-convention-goers think that the fake battle is being staged by paid cast members of the park, not ordinary people who are just here for a convention and not getting paid a dime for putting on a show for park-goers.

The “battle” soon ends, and some of the cosplayers take the time to sign autograph books for the kids before heading to the convention hall. This site is full of negative stories about people being mistaken for employees… but this was a “mistaken-for-employee” situation that turned out to make just about everyone involved happy.

(We are sold out, as is pretty much every hotel in town — not unusual in a tourist town at the height of the season. A man comes in without a reservation.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We are sold out tonight.”

Customer: “But the hotel across the street lost my reservation!”

Me: “I really am sorry but there is nothing I can do. All but one of my rooms has checked in and that person called to say they will be late. I can’t kick someone out. Does it need to be in Bozeman or are you heading east or west?”

Customer: “We are going to Yellowstone in the morning! Why can’t you help me?!”

Me: “Because I’m full up. Mostly with people also going to Yellowstone. Three Forks might have something but they are west of here. Other than that, I’ve had people going to Billings or Butte. Everywhere close is full.”

Customer: *as he stomps out the door* “Well, you need better customer service!”