Bad Cops, Bad Cops…

, , , | Legal | November 25, 2018

(The police around where I am are pretty laid back, despite it being a bad area. I work in a hotel in the early morning at front desk. Our hotel offers free breakfast to customers. Sometimes, a non-customer will sneak in and help themselves, and they will be kicked out. One day, some cops come in and start helping themselves to breakfast. I don’t mind, since I like being on good terms with them; they’ve helped me MANY, MANY times with unruly customers. But then, they start coming in to eat EVERY DAY. I go to my supervisor.)

Me: *whispering* “Those cops… Is it okay if they eat here? Just making sure.”

Supervisor: “Yeah, sure. The GM loves them.”

(Months pass, and I hear rumors of some customers getting nervous for some reason, inquiring about the cops being allowed. My GM comes up to me.)

GM: “Are the cops eating here every day?”

Me: “Yes.”

GM: “They aren’t allowed to do that!”

Me: “Uh, but the supervisor said it was okay?”

GM: “Hmm!” *chews supervisor out*

(Then she went and told the cops that they weren’t allowed to eat the breakfast; a cup of coffee was okay, but no eating. They looked shocked, said okay, and left. I felt bad, since I was afraid they wouldn’t help me with dealing with violence-prone customers anymore. But it was the GM’s decision. After that, they only came in once a week or so… and I always played dumb! I do wonder, don’t the cops hate it when people do whatever they like? So, why do THEY do it?)

You Know You Have A Drinking Problem When Even The Olive Oil Looks Good

, , , | Right | November 25, 2018

(I work in a hotel in Bali, at one of its restaurants. I am assigned to be the host during breakfast time. It’s near closing time, and as always, there are a few Indian people that come in late. I am about to have my break when I have to handle this one particular guest. With guests that don’t speak English, I tend to use simpler — though grammatically faulty — English.)

Guest: *speaks in an Indian language, asking for a drink*

Me: “I’m sorry? Drink?”

Guest: *repeats what he said, making a grand gesture that looks like he’s chugging down a beverage*

(Hot milk comes with the breakfast package, but the guests have to request it.)

Me: “Milk?”

Guest: “Yes!”

Me: “Okay, white or chocolate?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: *pauses* “Sorry, white or chocolate?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “WHITE?!”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “Okay, hot or cold?”

Guest: “Um, YES!”

Me: *speaks slowly* “Hot. Or. Cold?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “Hot plain milk it is, then.”

(I am more amused than anything. A little bit later, I see him by the salad bar pointing at a bottle.)

Guest: *says the word “drink” in his language again*

Me: “Sir, with all due respect, you can’t drink olive oil!”

How Much A Night For Your Closet Rooms?

, , , | Right | November 23, 2018

(A very dazed guest comes in early in the morning. I’m about to leave my shift in a few minutes, so I’m very tired.)

Guest: *swiveling head around dazedly* “I’d like to check in… Name’s S-M-I-T-H.”

(I see that he was supposed to have arrived yesterday but didn’t bother to let us know he wouldn’t be here on time. No worries; he’s not the first to do so. I proceed with his check-in.)

Me: “Welcome. Here’s your key. The elevator is to your left, down the hall.”

Guest: “Where?”

Me: “Down the hall.” *points*

Guest: “Out those doors?” *points to patio doors clearly showing outside*

(I mentally facepalmed. Where we were, there were no outdoor elevators. I told him again where they were and he stumbled off. Later, we found him sleeping in the housekeeping closet! I’ve had confused people, and I’ve had sleepy people, but never that much.)

Unfiltered Story #127599

, , , | Unfiltered | November 23, 2018

The guest was a business consultant for a major pharmaceutical company.
Guest:(In thick Arabic accent) My micro-wave is not working.
Me: Uh, sir, that is your room safe.
Guest: What is this word “safe”?
Me: Ummm, your food.
Guest: What?!
Me: I mean your food is safe.

Hotel On Recruitment Drive For Telepaths

, , , , | Right | November 23, 2018

(What was supposed to be a slow, peaceful night shift has turned hellish. A woman is assaulted in our elevator, and as the police are wrapping that up, two women run in frantically because their friend who is staying with us is trying to commit suicide in her room. By the end of the night I’m exhausted from dealing with police and EMS, and I just want to go home. This is the first call I get when people start waking up in the morning:)

Me: “Guest Services. [My Name] speaking; how can I help you?”

Guest: “What are your breakfast hours?”

Me: “[Times].”

Guest: “Okay… also, I have just, um… a ‘comment.'”

Me: *already knowing she really means “complaint”* “Oh?”

Guest: “Yes, well, when I got to my room last night, there was only one washcloth, and we needed two.”

(I can’t even respond for a second, as I would have been so beyond caring about even a legitimate complaint, never mind one this inane.)

Me: “Well, I’m sorry about that. Do you want me to have someone bring you another?”

Guest: “Well, we don’t need it now. We needed it last night. I just thought there ought to have been two when we got here.”

(There is an expectant pause. I will give discounts for a lot of things, but being too dumb to call and ask for a washcloth when you need one is not one of them.)

Me: “Well, I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you today; have a good morning!” *click*

(At least when I repeated the interaction to my manager, I got to hear her response: “Well, if you needed it so badly, you should have called and asked for it, you dumb b****.”)

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