Plenty Of Room For Him To Make A Mistake

| Albuquerque, NM, USA | Hotels & Lodging, Wild & Unruly

(I’m working the graveyard shift at a hotel. I am a 22-year-old female. This happens just as I have stepped outside to have a cigarette around 2 am. The man is a 40ish year old who is almost twice my size. He pulls up in a sporty little car.)

Drunk Male: “Ya got any rooms tonight, sweetheart?”

Me: “I’m afraid the hotel is sold out tonight, sir.”

Drunk Male: “Well, throw someone out. I’m a diamond member and you have to give me a room.”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m not throwing anyone out. There’s lodging elsewhere.”

Drunk Male: “The customer is always right, and I’m the customer and I say throw someone out! I want a room.”

(This goes on for a little bit before he gets out of his car. He gets right in my face while towering over me.)

Drunk Male: *jabbing at me, then pulling back a fist like he’s going to hit me* “Look here. I said get me a room!”

Me: “If you’re going to swing at me, you’ve got one chance to connect, then I am going to introduce you to a whole new world of pain before the cops get here.”

(The drunk male pulled his arm back. I just smiled. He looked worried, then got in his car and peeled out. Best part, he cut off a cop on the way out of the lot, so I got to watch him get arrested, his car towed, and my faith in karma restored.)

Acting Stupido

| Dahlgren, VA, USA | Funny Names, Hotels & Lodging

Guest: “Oh, Marla is a pretty name; but it doesn’t sound very Italian.”

Me: “Why would I have an Italian name?”

Guest: “You’re Italian, right? I mean, you look Italian.”

Me: “Nope, not Italian. Mom’s Mexican and Dad is White.”

Guest: “So, you’re kinda Italian?”

Me: “Nope. Not kinda. Not at all.”

Guest: “Well, you should be. You would be a pretty Italian.”

Me: *smiles and hands them their key* “So, since I’m not Italian, I am ugly?”

Won’t Step Foot In Without Square Footing

| USA | Crazy Requests, Hotels & Lodging

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling. This is the front desk. How may I help?”

Caller: “You can help me by telling me some info on your rooms!”

Me: “Okay, what would you like to know?”

(I’m expecting the usual questions, like how many beds, whether there’s a fridge, etc.)

Caller: “Tell me, what is the square footage of the rooms?”

Me: “Square footage? I don’t… know.”

Caller: “What do you mean? It’s a simple question!”

Me: “Well, it’s the first time I had a question like that. You’ll have to ask the contractor who designed the place, or the owner might know…”

Caller: “Give me them, then! I need to know now!”

Me: “They aren’t here. It’s three am where we are now.”

(The man rants about stupid people, and calling corporate, and me being unhelpful, etc. using foulest language I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard lots. At his pause I speak up.)

Me: “Would you like to book here?”

Caller: *still screaming* “No, I wouldn’t ever want to book there—”

Me: “That’s very good news. We thank you.” *I hang up*