At my hotel chain, higher status guests are eligible for comped upgrades IF it’s available.

Guest: “I want an upgrade tomorrow.”

He’s here about eight nights.

Me: “Unfortunately, an upgrade is not available for the whole duration, as we are sold out on Saturday.”

Guest: “Give me the upgrade until Saturday, and then I’ll switch back over.”

We switched him over. Fast forward to Saturday, and no issues. On Sunday, around 5 pm, he comes down:

Guest: “I want to switch to the upgrade again for the rest of my stay.”

At this point, he is staying for four more nights, and on the last night, it is not available.

Me: “Unfortunately, we aren’t able to do that.”

He throws a mini tantrum and storms away.

Not even two minutes later, he uses the hotel chain’s app to text us. He went on about how he was told he could switch. I replied:

Me: “We apologize if there was miscommunication, but we are not able to accommodate the request.”

Guest: “Well, what are you going to do to make this right?”

Um… Nothing?! It would have been a COURTESY upgrade.

Me: “I will talk to my front desk about how we could have communicated better.”

Guest: “Well, I’ll just go where communication is honored.”

Okay, bye?!

I went in and upgraded everyone I could, so now the suites aren’t available for any of the remaining nights that he’s here.

I’m with my boss and several coworkers on a business trip. We’re staying at a hotel within walking distance of the venue. On the second night of the trip, my boss decides to take two other colleagues and me to dinner.

After changing in our rooms, we get in his car and get ready to drive to the restaurant. There’s a gate leading outside of the parking lot, and you have to scan your hotel parking pass to get in and out. 

I’m in the back seat, but I see my boss reach out and scan something onto the reader.

Machine: “Please pay $80.”

Boss: “What?!” *Scans it again.*

Machine: “Please pay $80.”

Boss: “What the h***?! I’m a guest here. I shouldn’t have to pay for this!”

My boss presses the button on the intercom and calls the front desk. My colleague in the passenger seat is trying not to laugh.

Front Desk: “Hello, [Hotel Name]. How can I help you?”

Boss: “Yeah. My name is [Boss]. I’m a guest at the hotel, and I’m trying to drive out for the evening, and it’s saying I need to pay $80 at the gate.”

Front Desk: “When you checked in, you should’ve received a parking pass to get on and off the property.”

Boss: *Searching his pockets.* “I… don’t think I ever received that.”

Front Desk: “Umm… you would have to come inside the building to get that.”

Boss: “I’m at the gate, and there are people behind me. I can’t get back to the lobby right now.”

Front Desk: *Pause.* “I’ve just called Bellman, but I have no idea where he is. As I said, the only other option is for you to come to the front desk.”

Boss: “Alright…”

My boss looks frustrated as my colleague next to me gets out of the car and walks to the car behind us.

Colleague #2: “Excuse me?”

Driver: “Yeah?”

Colleague #2: “We’re having some issues opening the gate. Do you mind backing up so we can get out?”

Driver: *Confused.* “Uh… sure?”

My colleague begins directing traffic as the now-confused driver begins reversing. He backs up until there’s enough space for my boss to do a K-turn. My other colleague waves to the other driver and gets back in the car.

He drives back to the lobby and walks inside. I don’t see or hear the exchange, but he comes back after several minutes. He drives back to the gate, and this time, it opens without any issues. 

In total, it took us about thirty minutes to leave the parking lot… just to drive a few miles up the road.

My night wasn’t going to be easy; there’s a huge event in town, and literally every hotel in town, the next town over, and the next NEXT town over are sold out because of it. My own hotel would be hosting a small afterparty for members of the event (which was its own awful little tale). I had lucked out, though, when I’d clocked in, the hotel was at 100% occupancy, and the very last arrival showed up right as I went back to punch my number in. Joy! The rest of my night was going to be an easy babysitting job while I do my chores and my audit work! 

In comes the man with the luggage case. He comes up to the front desk, happy as can be, with the same sort of smug aura a spoiled child has when they think they’re about to get a new toy.

Guest: “You’ve got a walk-in reservation! I’m a Platinum Elite!”

Huh? No. No! Why?! This was supposed to be the not-so-easy-but-not-as-bad-as-it-could-have-been night!

Me: “Sir, we’re completely sold out. We’re at 100% occupancy. I quite literally do not have any more rooms to sell. Unfortunately, I can’t take a walk-in at this time.”

Guest: “Even for a… Platinum Elite?”

Me: “Yes. I am sorry. We do not have any rooms available.”

Guest: “Come on, are you sure? You have to have something! I’m a Platinum Elite!”

Me: “We are at 100% occupancy, and all of my check-ins have arrived. I’m sorry, there’s nothing.”

Guest: “Please? Really? Are you really, really sure? I’ll take anything you have!”

I’ve never seen a person struggle so much to comprehend the concept of “sorry, we’re sold out” before. I apologize again and explain to him about the enormous event in town that has monopolized d*** near every hotel in a thirty-mile radius. 

Of course, he wants to know if there are any hotels nearby that are available. I know there aren’t. I know in the cockles of my heart there are no rooms. Still, I do feel a little bad for the guy despite his inability to take no for an answer. If you didn’t already know what was going on in town and you happened to end up here, it would be very confusing to have to suddenly grapple with the fact that there are no vacancies anywhere.

I called around, since I really had nothing better to do. While I’m doing this, I swear to God I think he tried to call corporate at one point, because I heard him on the phone saying:

Guest: “Representative! REPRESENTATIVE!”

In the same way, my mother (bless her heart) does when she feels the natural urge to rain holy Hellfire at a robotic caller. This was a call that I think got him nowhere, because he gave up to go sit on one of our couches. 

It took me calling eight hotels for him to finally give up and get an Airbnb, which [Hotel #4] had tiredly suggested to me as an option for him.

I’ve been working at my property for about five months, and it mainly caters to business travelers, so since 90% of our guests aren’t paying for their own rooms and usually have just gotten off a plane, I don’t have many noteworthy interactions.

The guest comes up to the desk, and I give the normal spiel, asking for photo ID and a form of payment. He hands me his card, and then holds up the work badge that has a picture of him, and is just labeled with a nickname and last name, one that is not very analogous to the name we have on his reservation. (For example, if someone was named Daniel Allen Smith and went by the nickname DJ, which is not his real name or nickname).

Me: “I will need to see a form of identification that has your full name on it.”

Guest: “That IS my name.” *Points at the “DJ” on the badge.*

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but that name doesn’t match the one we have on file. I need to see a photo ID with a matching name on it.”

Guest: “That’s my photo, and there’s my name, use that!”

He points to the name on his card, which says DJ Smith, which is again, not the name we have on file.

Me: “Sir, neither name fits. I’ll need to see a driver’s license or something like that.”

Guest: “I’m not showing you my driver’s license; it has personal information I’m not willing to give out.”

I just blinked at him for a moment as he stared at me defiantly. I almost tell him that we have his address on file too, and I can easily just pull it up, but I don’t, maybe because I didn’t want to elicit more of his clearly rising anger. In hindsight, I wish I had.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but the name on your badge and card does not match the one we have on file. I need to see a valid photo ID with your full name on it.”

Guest: “No, you don’t, that is my name, and you don’t need to see anything else. I don’t give out my personal information.”

Me: “Without confirming that you have the same name as we have on your reservation, I won’t be able to check you in. I’m sorry, but your work badge just isn’t enough for me.”

At this point, my more experienced coworker, who has been listening, chimes in to back me up, telling the guest that we need it for security reasons, and we must confirm his full legal name.

The man just laughs incredulously, as if we’re absolutely insane, but gives in, I think, because he was starting to feel ganged up on.

Guest: “Fine, I know you don’t actually need to see it, but I’ll show you anyway. This is ridiculous.”

He pulls out his driver’s license and shows it to me, taking care to grip it tight with his fingers over the address. Thankfully, the ID has his full name on it and not his nickname, as I feared it might.

Me: “Thank you very much, sir, as my colleague said it’s for security reasons. We just want to make sure that only you can enter your room.”

Guest: “Yeah, like you couldn’t tell it was me, we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

He says this while laughing, but is clearly red in the face from anger.

I proceed with the check-in as cordially as possible, and at the end, when I try to direct him to the elevators (which are not immediately intuitive to find at my property) he puts his hand up and interrupts me.

Guest: “Yeah, I’ve stayed before, I think I got it.”

He said this very sarcastically before storming off.

I looked at his stay history with our company, and see that he has stayed all over the country and leaves incredibly long, nitpicky reviews, so I made sure to let my manager know I’d be getting a negative survey in the near future.

I work in a full-service hotel outside a major US city.

One evening, I check in a guest who, shortly after they get to their room, calls down to request an item be delivered. After confirming they would like the item brought to them as soon as possible, I put in a case for a coworker to deliver said item. 

Ten or so minutes later, my coworker calls me at the desk to say they could not complete the delivery because of a “Do Not Disturb” privacy sign. I call the guest back.

Me: “Good evening, this is [My Name] from the front desk. One of my colleagues will deliver your [item] right away, but they did let me know there is a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.”

Guest: “Oh, did they come already? I didn’t hear any knock.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, they did not knock because of the privacy sign on the door. Hotel policy is that our staff will not knock when a privacy sign is up unless it’s an emergency.”

Guest: “Oh, I didn’t know! I don’t think I’ve heard of that rule before.”

I confirm the delivery, hang up, and turn to my manager beside me, slightly confused.

Me: “What… did she think the sign did then?”