Hotel Moochifornia

, , , | Right | February 18, 2020

I work at a hotel, and if I had a dollar for every time the following scenario played out then I wouldn’t need to do so any longer.

A guest enters the hotel. Their reasons for being there can vary: A friend said they were going to meet them, their significant other kicked them out, and sometimes they just offer no explanation for their presence, but always they somehow have mysteriously wound up completely stranded at the nicest hotel in the area — though one must wonder how they could have been transported there in the first place.

Invariably, they have no money whatsoever — not even enough for a cab! Oh, Uber? No, don’t be silly; they have no phone, either! — and plead to be allowed to stay; their mom/brother/uncle/cousin twice removed will pay us back!

Once they are told that this is not possible, it becomes entreaties for cab fare; surely we can just take some cash out of the drawer for them to get someplace else? This is met with an offer to call our local PD and have them transport the guest if they are in such an impossible situation. (This isn’t a veiled threat or anything; this is something the officers will actually do for someone stranded.) And invariably, the guest then hems and haws and might mill about for another twenty minutes or so before finally leaving — apparently, not as impossible a task as we were led to believe previously.

I know there is someone telling me to “have a heart,” but here’s the thing: as I said, we are easily the nicest hotel in the area. There are several other, cheaper hotels within walking distance, including one directly across the street. And yet somehow, at least once a week, someone is insistent that we are their only possible chance at a bed for the night, and then balks when offered alternatives.

If I “had a heart,” I would very shortly be wishing I had a paycheck, too.

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Giving New Meaning To The Term “Cheap Date”

, , , , , | Right | February 17, 2020

(For the last few years, I’ve been running a restaurant that has been my own personal project. Thanks to some great reviews, my place has gained a decent popularity over time and we now have a number of regulars who love our food and service. I’m really proud of this since I have built it from the ground up. My place is in quite an affluent area, but both my staff and regulars know I will not stand for anyone entitled or rude. On one slow Sunday afternoon, I see what looks like a high school senior in a Letterman jacket pull up in an expensive-looking SUV. He appears to be on a first date with a girl and both look a little nervous. When they walk through the door, he breezes right past the hostess and sits at an empty table in the middle of the restaurant and immediately yells:)

Kid: “SERVICE!” *clicks his fingers loudly*

(The server is there immediately but the kid mocks him for being “slow” and proceeds to speak to him in the most condescending and patronizing voice you can imagine. Several times he refers to him as “dumb” and then comments that he “probably didn’t finish high school,” but, true to form, our server still maintains a wonderful and professional attitude and seems to just ignore the kid’s attempts at mocking him. He’s being an irritating little twerp, but we figure he’s just trying to impress his date. However, even she looks a little unimpressed.)

Date: “Why are you being so rude to the waitstaff?”

Kid: “Oh, that’s just a little joke between us. I’m here all the time! In fact, I’m basically family! 

(I’ve never seen this kid before ever.)

Date: “Well… they didn’t seem to like it! Maybe stop doing it!”

Kid: “Nah, just chill. We’re so tight here! In fact, they let me eat for free!”

(This line now has my back up and I gather my two servers and tell them to be wary of this kid as he might try to dine and dash. When they serve him the bill, one server stands by the table and I have another mop the floor at the front, so he can be close to the doors. When we give him the bill, there are inevitable fireworks and he immediately starts screaming for a manager. Today, my manager called in sick, so I am covering the front of house management duties. This kid has been loud and boastful to his date the entire time and has clearly irked the patrons. When I walk over to him, he has a face like thunder.)

Me: “Hi, sir. How may I help you?”

Kid: “Yeah, you want to tell me why this a**hole charged me for my food?!”

(I give him an “Are you kidding me?” look.)

Me: “That’s how a restaurant works, sir; you order food and then you pay for it. Did I miss anything here?”

Kid: “Look, how about you just comp my meal and things won’t get unpleasant for you!”

Me: “Was the service bad?”

Kid: “No.”

Me: “Was any of your food undercooked or inedible?”

Kid: “No.”

Me: “So, explain why the h*** I would comp you?”

Kid: “Because my dad happens to know a lot of important people! Does the name [Guy] mean anything to you?”

(He has a really arrogant sneer on his face. His date looks super embarrassed by him.)

Me: “No, sorry.”

(He looks extremely shocked at this fact.)

Kid: “You must not have heard me, I said [Guy]!” 

Me: “Still doesn’t ring a bell.”

Kid: “WHAT THE H***?! HE OWNS THE F****** [Luxury Car] DEALERSHIP! EVERYONE KNOWS HIM!”

Me: “Okay… I don’t, I’m afraid!”

Kid: “Well, he happens to be a personal friend of the owner! And he’ll be furious if he finds out you pissed off his number-one customer!”

Me: “Oh, he knows Oliver?”

Kid: *smugly* “Yeah, sure does!”

Me: “Describe him to me!”

Kid: *suddenly nervous* “Err… he like… umm… has, like, blonde hair and, like… err… tall and stuff! Look, just comp my d*** meal!”

Me: “Can you please read my badge?”

Kid:Fine! It says [My Name], owner…”

(Immediately, his face drains of color and he starts to look worried.)

Me: “So, we’ve established there’s no Oliver! Now, either you pay your bill, or I get the police involved!”

(Quickly, the kid pulls me to one side; his once cocky demeanor has completely vanished.)

Kid: “Look, I’ll level with you! I don’t have any money; can you just do me a solid?!”

Me: “H*** no! Either pay or you get arrested.”

Kid: “I just thought you’d know who my dad was and give me free stuff! Everyone does business with him!”

Me: “That’s a really stupid plan, first of all. Secondly, I don’t give out free food!”

Kid: “Come on, help a brother out! I’ve been begging [Date] to go out with me for weeks and I promised her a free meal! If she has to pay, then everyone will laugh at me and say I’m cheap! Please, I’ll pay you back double with interest next time; just give me it free this time!”

(His date has looked unimpressed with him the entire time, so I think a second is already out of the question.)

Me: “Then call your dad and get him to come and pay! Either way, that bill is gonna be settled.” 

Kid: “WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT!? THIS PLACE SUCKS! COME ON, [DATE], WE’RE LEAVING!”

(He makes a defiant stride towards the doors, but my server quickly locks them while his date remains frozen to the spot! By now, many of my regulars are angrily yelling at him and demanding he pay up and stop being a brat. The kid looks as if he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.)

Me: “You have three choices here. One: get arrested, two: get your date to pay, or three: get your father down here pronto. Either way, your meal is getting paid today! Next time, don’t act like such an idiot!”

(Totally humiliated, he was forced to call his father and ashamedly tell him that he had gotten into a very tricky spot. He showed up a few minutes later and furiously berated his son in front of his date and the restaurant. He paid for his son’s meal and was thoroughly apologetic for his behavior. Unfortunately, the story didn’t end there. The next day, his son put up a very abusive review online, complete with multiple expletives, about how he hated my restaurant and how I ruined his date by “being a cheapskate” and how he should have gotten a free meal. Then, he called for people to boycott my place. Worst of all, he made several threats of bodily harm and even mentioned firebombing the restaurant. When several of my loyal customers tore him apart and threatened their own version of harm, his review was quickly taken down. The next day, the father came in with his son in tow and angrily made him apologize to me! He explained that several of his regular customers had taken business elsewhere because of his son’s review and, as a punishment, he had taken away his son’s car, computer, and allowance and was forcing him to work for free in the dealership. Ironically, after that day, his dad became a semi-regular customer of mine and has hosted several dinners at the restaurant. Each time I see his son, he looks as if he just swallowed a lemon. Several of the business friends in town say this kid pulled this name-dropping stunt a few times, but thankfully, I was the first to put him in his place and teach him a lesson.)

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The Only Disgusting Thing Is Their Entitlement

, , , | Right | February 17, 2020

(My dad takes me shopping and he decides to treat me to a pancake. We walk to a small pancake restaurant with a lovely view. Because it’s summer, we sit outside. Behind us are a couple of old ladies who are talking loudly. They go from subject to subject and sometimes mention how delicious the pancake is. When I happen to cross them on the way to the restroom, I see how they are actually scraping the plates clean, all the while exclaiming how good it was and how sad they are it is gone. Then, the time of their bill comes.)

Server: “Hello, was everything to your liking?”

Old Lady #1: *sighs* “Honestly, it was terrible. The pancake was undercooked and the vegetables were still raw. The sauce was just swimming under and over all the fat of the pancake. Honestly, I don’t know how you could serve that.”

Server: *a bit taken aback* “I see… And yours, miss?”

Old Lady #2: “I didn’t know it was possible to mess up a cheese and bacon pancake, but apparently, it is.”

(My dad and I are following this conversation intently. I feel upset because I know the ladies are lying, but my dad’s eyes start to glimmer.)

Server: “All right… but why didn’t you warn me? I could have taken it back; I could have switched it for you. Why didn’t you say anything when I passed by?”

Old Lady #1: “Well, eh… we didn’t want to be rude…”

Old Lady #2: “You looked so busy!”

Old Lady #1: “So, what can you do for us?”

Server: “Honestly, I can’t do anything for you. The plates are scraped clean. I can exchange something if it’s not good, but not when it’s completely eaten and the plates are clean.”

Old Lady #2: *loudly* “But it was disgusting!”

Server: “Next time, please let us know right away, so we can do something about it. Now, would you still like some coffee or just the bill?”

Old Lady #2: *huffs* “Bill, please!”

(This was my first encounter with people trying to scam a free meal. I have to admit that I really liked this “dinner-and-a-show” and my dad left a bigger tip than usual. In the Netherlands, tipping is not necessary and you usually only tip if you really liked the service.)

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He’s Really Bitter About That Sugar

, , , , | Right | February 16, 2020

(I’m working on the tills at a fast food restaurant when one of the customers orders one meal and a drink. Drinks usually cost £1, but due to the sugar tax recently introduced in the UK, soda costs £1.10. The customer orders a Pepsi.)

Me: “I’m afraid the Pepsi will be £1.10 instead of £1 due to sugar taxes.”

Customer: “Sugar tax? There’s no such thing as sugar tax. You’re a f****** liar, [My Name].”

(I am unsure how to respond to this until he says he’ll pay the 10p anyway. I continue on the till when I hear a commotion by the collection point.)

Customer: “WHERE’S MY F****** MINI-FILLET BURGER?! WHY DID YOU GET MY ORDER WRONG?! GET ME MY MINI-FILLET BURGER NOW!”

(I’m sick of the customer but ask to see his receipt and offer to make a separate order for a mini-fillet burger, knowing full well it wasn’t a part of his original order.)

Customer: “I don’t have my receipt. Why would I?”

(At our restaurant, each order has an order number, printed on the receipt, that is called out when the order is ready, so he certainly does have his receipt and, at this point, I realise he is trying to get free food.)

Me: “Well, in that case, I’m afraid I cannot check your order to see if the mini-fillet wen—”

Customer: “THE MINI-FILLET WENT THROUGH BECAUSE I PAID EXTRA FOR IT!” *turns to kitchen staff* “GET ME MY MINI-FILLET NOW!”

(A few minutes later, a coworker hands him a free mini-fillet, and the customer complains that it’s “not wrapped correctly.” We’re all sick of him at this point, but eventually, he sits down to eat. I finish up on the tills and then head out to clean the lobby.)

Customer: “[My Name]! Get me the manager. Now. This entire restaurant is appalling.”

Me: “I’m really sorry you’re disappointed. My manager is working up front–” *points to my manager* “–if you’d like to have a word with her.”

Customer: “NO! You can go get her for me.”

(Basically, the customer is so lazy he can’t be bothered to get up and speak to the manager himself. I inform the manager, who has decided to ignore the customer entirely — rightly so, as there is not an actual issue. So, I walk out to the lobby when he calls me over.)

Me: “I’m really sorry, but the manager’s not available right now. She’ll be with you shortly.”

(I’ve not got the patience to deal with him.)

Customer: “Tell her it’s rude to make customers wait.”

(I went back, explained to the manager what he was doing, came back, apologised, and continued cleaning the lobby. As I did so, the customer continually harassed me for the manager and eventually got up to harass the manager himself. The manager ignored him completely, refusing to say a word to him, until he eventually left. That customer spent over two hours harassing me, the kitchen staff, and the manager before he left. If he’d stayed any longer, the manager probably would have called the police. The worst part of it, though, is that someone has a sad enough life to harass a restaurant for free food and false negativity. It also would have been better if I’d stayed at home like I was supposed to be doing that day and wasn’t called in to cover for someone, but oh, well.)

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Smoking Is The Key To Looking Young

, , , , , , | Right | February 14, 2020

(Back when photo IDs are easier to fake, I am a cashier at a convenience store. The age to buy cigarettes is eighteen. A young guy who looks sixteen or seventeen brings up some soft drinks and snacks to the checkout.)

Me: “Good evening. Anything else?”

Young Guy: “Oh, and a pack of [cheap popular cigarettes] and a lighter.”

Me: *before I get the cigarettes* “Sure, I just need to see some ID.”

(He pulls out what looks to be a state-issued ID that almost gets me.)

Me: “Oh, wow. You have to tell me your secret.”

Young Guy: “Um… secret?”

Me: “According to this, you’ve just turned 118. I’ve got to say you look amazing. What’s your secret?”

Young Guy: *looking defeated* “Um… so, I guess no smokes, then?”

Me: “That’s right, and I’m sorry but policy is to permanently ban you.”

Young Guy: *with his head hung low* “Can I at least have the ID back?”

Me: “Sorry, but I can’t do that.”

(He left the store and I passed it along to the police who regularly come in for coffee. Even they were impressed with the quality but had to laugh at the mistake.)

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