Direction Dissection

| USA | Bizarre, Hotels & Lodging

Guest: “I need directions.”

Me: “Okay. To where?”

Guest: “To [Address].”

(The address she was giving me was on the very same street our hotel is on, and I knew the place well.)

Me: “Oh, I know where that is. You just make a left from the hotel, and—”

Guest: *very seriously* “Don’t tell me what to do! I’m not your slave!”

Me: “Um… I never said you were.”

Guest: “Then don’t tell me what to DO, then!”

Me: “Um…okay.”

(Silently, I use directions from the Internet, print it up, and hand it over.)

Me: “Here you go.”

Guest: “Thanks!”

(I saw her a few minutes later, complaining to someone on her phone about ‘a piece of paper that’s telling her what to do.’)

Doctor’s Disorders

| USA | Extra Stupid, Health & Body, Hotels & Lodging

(It is around three in the morning when I take a phone call.)

Me: “Front desk.”

Guest: “Help! My husband is feeling very sick. He needs a doctor!”

Me: “Ma’am, we don’t have any doctors in the hotel. Shall I call him an ambulance?”

Guest: *suspiciously* “And just where is this ‘ambulance’ going to take him?”

Me: “Um, to the hospital…”

Guest: “…”

Me: “…where there are doctors?”

Guest: “Oh. Okay, then.”

Should Have Called It A Night

| Scotland, UK | Hotels & Lodging, Rude & Risque, Underaged

(I’m 14, working in the kitchen of a local pub/inn. I arrive at work one day and go to sign in, behind the reception desk in the front hall. A customer comes in and assumes I’m working on the front desk.)

Customer: “Hey! How much are rooms?”

Me: “Depending on which rooms are available, anywhere from £35-65 a night—”

Customer: “No, how much for an hour?”

(He winks at me. Being 14, I don’t understand what he’s getting at.)

Me: “Pardon? The rooms are priced for a night—”

Customer: “Yeah, but how much for you and a room for an hour?”

(I am beyond confused at this point when the manager, a stocky guy with a shaved head, tattooed arms and a strong Glaswegian accent appears from the dining room, right behind the guy.)

Manager: “CAN I HELP YOU!?”

(The customer jumped about a foot in the air, saw my manager, and bolted out the door. My manager refused to tell me what the guy was talking about (and I didn’t realise for another couple of years), just told me to run and get him or the chef if I saw the guy again.)