Not Enough Spanish In The World To Say How Sorry You Are

, , , , | Working | December 11, 2019

(I work at the front desk in a hotel. One fine morning, just before dawn, we get a call from one of the rooms plaintively asking if we could please call an ambulance. The voice on the phone is rather weak, but is very apologetic, and keeps saying she’s sorry to be such a bother, etc. I send my coworker down the hall to see if he can help her any while I make the call. The ambulance arrives quickly and the woman is bundled off, with my coworker coming back to the front desk.)

Me: “How bad is she? She going to be okay?”

Coworker: “Yeah, but you wouldn’t believe the mess in the bathroom. Whatever hit her, it was bad.”

Me: “How bad is it?”

Coworker: “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t believe me. It’s really bad in there.”

(Gentle readers, I have insufficient words to describe the mess in that bathroom. Apparently, whatever illness had the guest in its grip had her expelling from both ends, with great force. Further, she had been gripped with dizziness and vertigo, so there wasn’t any aiming for a proper target. There is vomit and fecal matter over everything — and I do mean everything — in that bathroom. A bit later, the head housekeeper comes in, and I get to practice my Spanish:)

Me: “Ah, [Housekeeper]? Por favor… 104 no es bueno.” *Please, 104 is not good*.

Housekeeper: “¿No?”

Me: “No. Es baño.” *No. It’s a toilet.*

Housekeeper: “¿Baño?”

Me: *handing her the key* “Si… Lo siento mucho.” *Yes, I am very sorry.*

(She took the key with a skeptical look; as a housekeeper, she’s seen it all. A moment later, I heard a loud “¡Ay-yi-yi!” from down the hall.)

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Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fiery Interaction  

, , , , | Working | December 11, 2019

(One of my coworkers asks me to give him a ride, since his car got totaled while parked and he is waiting on the insurance payment to get another. I agree, drive over in the morning, and pick him up. Literally the moment he gets in the car, before he’s even put on the seatbelt, he pulls out a cigarette, sticks it in his mouth, and pulls out a lighter.)

Coworker: “You don’t mind if I smoke.”

(He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but as a flat statement.)

Me: “Yes, actually, I do. Please put that away.”

(He gives me a look like I just told him to pull down his pants or something. We end up in a stare-off for several seconds, with the cigarette still in his mouth.)

Me: “We are going nowhere until that cigarette is put away.”

(At that, he finally puts it away, swearing under his breath just loud enough for me to hear. I’m pissed at this point, but we are already running late, and I don’t want to deal with the fight of trying to get him to get out of the car, so I start driving. At one point, he starts reaching into his pocket again.)

Me: “If you pull that out, I will pull over and kick you out on the curb.”

(He stops, swearing more under his breath, and we finally get to the office. Rather than going to park, I pull up in front of the building and then point over towards the street where the bus stop is.)

Me: “There’s the bus. It’s only around a buck fifty or so for a one-way ticket.”

Coworker: “Huh?”

Me: “For when you need to get home tonight. Because I sure as h*** ain’t giving you a ride.”

(He scowled, climbed out, and slammed the door as hard as he could. I went to park, checked to make sure there wasn’t any damage, then went inside and headed straight to my boss to let her know what had happened. That turned out to be a good thing, as he did try to make up stories about me threatening him. Unfortunately for him, mild-mannered me threatening someone a head taller than I was way less believable than a grouchy smokestack like him not being able to go ten minutes without lighting up a cigarette.)

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Their Phones Don’t Have Reception That Far

, , , , , | Working | December 11, 2019

(Sadly, I only hear my mom’s side of this phone call:)

Mom: “Hello, my name is [Mom] and I’m calling about [Her Father]’s account. You see, I’m his daughter, and we sent you a copy of his death certificate when he passed in [time about a year and a half before] but it seems you’re still charging us for his phone.”


Mom: “The account owner is deceased. That’s why I’m calling.” 


Mom: “You can’t speak to him. He’s dead! I faxed you a copy of his death certificate!” 

(Pause. My mom is getting increasingly more frustrated.)

Mom: “I don’t have the PIN. The only person who had the PIN was my father who, once again, has been dead for over a year.”



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This Worker Is Down For The Count  

, , , , , , | Working | December 11, 2019

(I’m the customer. I’m getting ready to pay for my items.)

Cashier: “Okay, your total is [dollars] and 37 cents.”

(I take out bills and hand them to the cashier, and then dig in my change purse and pull out a few coins. I look at them for a moment, remove a couple, and hand them to the cashier.)

Cashier: *astonished* “How’d you do that?”

Me: *confused* “Do what?”

Cashier: “Give me the right amount without counting it?”

Me: “I’m… pretty sure I did.”

Cashier: “No way! You just looked at the coins for, like, a second!”

Me: *shrugging* “Practice, I guess.” 

(What are they teaching these kids in school?!)

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Soaked In Rage

, , , , | Working | December 11, 2019

(My workplace has an area to store your bags, coats, etc. The hooks are overwhelmed by coats, so everyone leaves their bags on the floor. One day, a pipe bursts and the bag area floods. I work at the front and the pipe is at the back, so I don’t find out about this until my break, nearly an hour later. Some of my coworkers, including a manager, knew about the burst pipe as soon as it happened.)

Me: “So, where did you move the bags to?”

Coworker: “What do you mean?”

Me: “The bag area is flooding, right?”

Coworker: “Well, it’s not flooding anymore, but there is still a lot of water on the ground.”

Me: “Right. So, where did you move the bags?”

Coworker: “Why would we move the bags?”

Me: *eyes go wide* “You left them in the water?!”

(I run to the back of the store and grab my bag. It is sopping wet. I get everyone else’s bag up on a nearby table and then woefully check on my stuff. My change of clothes is soaked. Thankfully, my phone was spared, as it was on top. The papers I had in there are completely destroyed. I confront my manager.)

Me: “[Manager], why weren’t the bags moved? They’re soaked!”

Manager: *flat voice* “[Company] is not responsible for theft or damage to items left in the back room. It is provided to you as a courtesy.”

Me: *gritting my teeth* “Fine. It’s not like I was gonna sue you, anyway. I just want to know why you didn’t move them.”

Manager: “They’re your responsibility.”

Me: “I was on register! How was I supposed to know the pipe burst?!”

Manager: “They’re your responsibility.”

Me: *completely losing my temper* “But why would any decent person just leave them there? Why couldn’t you just pick them up? I just picked them up, and it took me less than two minutes! Why?!

Manager: “They’re your responsibility.”

Me: *screams in rage*

(And that’s the story of how I got fired for the first time ever.)

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