It was a sold-out weekend at our hotel because of a major corporate convention. Guests were coming in from all over the country. The rooms were assigned by the housing bureau and paid for by their employer. It had been a crazy night with people finding out they had roommates, a non-smoker being assigned a smoking room, and two hated competitors being assigned to the same room (intentionally done by their boss, with notes not to move them).

One of our last arrivals for this group was a man named Robin. Immediately after Robin checked in, he returned to the desk with a young lady in tow.

Robin: “There must be a mistake; I’m in a room with a woman I don’t know.”

Lady: “I’m sure he is a nice guy, but staying in a room with a strange man…”

Me: “I apologize, but we didn’t assign the rooms; they were assigned by the housing bureau.”

Robin: “Could I pay for my own room?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we’re sold out.”

There was a hotel on the other side of downtown that had rooms — but of course, all the convention meetings were at our hotel. I did point out that if they could find someone in a single room to switch with, I would be more than happy to reassign the rooms. They retired to the bar to figure things out.

I later saw them together at the convention’s social hour. They approached me and said they would make it work, and they asked if I could send up a pair of robes.

A year later, I’d forgotten all about Robin and his roommate when I received a call to come to the desk. There at the desk were Robin and his roommate, both with wide smiles on their faces. She was holding her hand up in that way all new brides do to show off their rings.

That weekend a year before was the start of their whirlwind relationship. They had just gotten married and decided to spend their honeymoon in the city where they’d met. I helped them plan their sightseeing activities and made restaurant suggestions.

They returned for the next two years that I was at that property. The last I heard, they had a child on the way and had relocated to our area.

I work in a hotel on both PM and night audit shifts, but this happened on my PM shift early on. I work for a name-brand company that is franchised. We are a smaller hotel with only ninety-five rooms and no VIP lounge.

I get a call from a guest who is to show up tomorrow. I recite the standard greeting and am asked a question I have never been asked before.

Guest: “I was wondering if you have a VIP lounge at your hotel?”

Me: “No, but we do have a business lounge and open lounge.”

Guest: “Okay, so since you have no VIP lounge, I happen to be a [Rewards] member, I get a free breakfast as stated in the policies.”

Me: “Sorry, but that policy only applies to hotels outside of Canada and the US. We do not provide breakfast due to not having a VIP lounge.”

Guest: “Well, you are wrong, and I will have to ask for your manager to prove you wrong.”

Me: “He is currently on the phone. Would you like me to transfer to his phone and you can leave a message?”

Guest: “No, you are obviously giving me the runaround. I want his name and email. I want your name, and I will be making a call to corporate about you.”

I provided her with the information she wanted.

I came in the next day, and she had canceled her reservation. My general manager told me that she was told no by both him and corporate and was not happy, so she canceled it because her status did not sway her any favor.

You’ve got to love entitled people.

I was working in a hotel on Christmas Eve. We had six checkouts that day. It was the first Sunday morning shift in months that I didn’t have the second girl with me. I expected a day on my Kindle and then going home to my entire immediate family after my shift. I expect my family to be home once I get there, but an elderly lady threw a damper on my Kindle plans.

At 8:00 am, a man in his late fifties or early sixties came in the front door holding a Tylenol bottle.

Man: “My mother is staying with you. Can I have a key to her room to give her these painkillers? She’ll have trouble getting up.”

He wasn’t on the reservation, but he knew her room number, her name, and her phone number — just enough for me to feel comfortable going up with him with the emergency key.

We chatted in the elevator. Yes, he celebrated Christmas; that’s why his mother was staying with us. And he appreciated that I was going to the room with him. It was just a polite little conversation.

I knocked on the woman’s door.

Me: “Ma’am, Guest Services is here with [Man].”

Woman: *Frantically, through the door* “Please help me!”

She was in the room’s foyer flat on her back, fully conscious, and wiggling like mad to get up. Her son darted to her side, obviously trying to figure out the situation, and I knew that we had to call for EMS. I had my phone with me, so I told her to stay still and called 911.

As the dispatcher asked questions and I passed them on, I found out that the woman was eighty-nine years old, she had been on the floor for only a couple of minutes, and she didn’t trip; she lost her balance and fell backward.

The dispatcher asked if anyone would be downstairs to direct EMS to the room, and I realized that I would have to leave them to go to the desk. I put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and genuinely pleaded with her to stop trying to get up because an ambulance was coming and they’d help her, and I ran downstairs.

I called my general manager while waiting because there was no manager on duty. He asked me to take pictures of the area once everyone was cleared, and I agreed.

I directed the first EMT to the woman’s room once they arrived and felt that I should be out of everyone’s way, so I went back to the desk. EMS and the woman’s son came through the lobby with her on a gurney with a collar and an oxygen mask, and the son thanked me by name.

I went back to the room and took pictures, but I know my general manager is frustrated because all movable furniture was pushed out of the way, and I said in my text that I remember the layout being standard when I came in. At least I got pictures of the bathroom floor being dry.

I made my morning call to my mom almost an hour later than usual and relayed how the morning had been so far. I have a grandfather in his early nineties who lives with my parents, so I told her the details of what I saw, and we agreed that they probably wouldn’t blame the hotel because her son already seemed to be wary of her falling, considering he didn’t want her getting up to answer the door. My mom pointed out that my family wouldn’t blame a business if my grandpa fell and said that he’d lost his balance.

I really hope she’s okay and that her family can still enjoy the holiday.

One of our guests is this entitled a**hole who stays with us weekly and feels we owe him the world.

Guest: *During check-in.* “That’s not my regular room.”

Me: “This is the correct room type according to your booking.”

Guest: “I am very upset! This is not my regular room!”

Every Friday morning, he called and would say:

Guest: *In a demanding tone.* “Bring the luggage cart to my room.”

It got to the point where I’d take it up and leave it outside the elevator for him. This was at a mid-range hotel, mind you, so we didn’t have a bellhop or baggage services.

Last week I wrecked my car in a nasty accident and go to work three days later with a broken nose, a brace on my wrist, and on both knees.

Guest: *Same demanding tone.* “Load my luggage into my car.”

The braces make it hard to move but I do my best.

Guest: “I don’t like how you did it. I’ll be complaining to your manager about that.”

Yes, he complained. I am more than done with him and his lack of empathy. This week he is staying with us and when I get to work for my audit shift, I see that he has left his headlights on.

Day Shift: “Oh, should we tell him?”

Me: “No, I don’t think we should.”

By the time he got up the next morning his car was dead, and his battery was drained. He had to call a flatbed tow truck due to the kind of car he had. Sweet justice.

I worked at a hotel in 2010. It was across the street from a dive bar. Sunday night, a man checks in and is chatty. He comes back to the desk a few times to continue to be chatty. He goes to the bar across the street at some point and still comes back over to front desk to be even more chatty while getting drunker.

The next shift arrived around 11 PM and I popped into the back to get my stuff and go. When I come back out to the lobby he’s waiting for me, because presumably that next shift worker told him I was ending my shift right then, so he was standing there waiting. She watched him follow me to my car and did nothing.

As he is following me to my car:

Guest: *Almost begging.* “Please, come to the bar with me! Please!”

Me: “Uh, no thank you.”

Guest: “Please! You have to!”

He’s not taking my polite refusal.

Me: “I have a boyfriend.”

Guest: “I’m not trying to f*** you.”

I went home.

The next day he apparently walked into the continental breakfast still drunk.

And fully nude.