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Just GTFO
This completely dizzy woman comes up to me at the desk today and goes “[Karen]. Thirty.”
“Um, excuse me?”
“My name? Is [Karen]? I'm in room X30?” Like it was completely obvious and that's a perfectly normal thing to say to someone.
“Okay. And the last name?”
“[Lastname].”
I look it up by room number first, because I have a bad feeling.
“Okay, looks like we still need to check you in. You appear to be in room X35.”
“No, no, I came in yesterday and she told me I had 30! My car is parked there and everything!”
“Okay, well, we really aren't supposed to give out room numbers the day before. This room is directly next door to 30, in the very next cabin over.” I show her on a map. It's literally house-trailer-style next-door. You can practically hit the cabin with a broom handle from the door of the other building.
“But I'm parked by Thiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrtttttyyyy! Which way does it face?”
[Um, I'm sorry, what? You don't have a view in any direction, what does it matter?]
“It faces south.”
“No, I want 30! It faces north!”
I look over at my boss, despairing of this woman. From the first two sentences I just wanted her to go away from my desk. It's sad when this is my goal in any customer interaction.
“Rob?”
“Yeah.” He starts working on shifting her back to 30. Apparently he wants her gone as bad as I do.
This woman asks me:
-where the employees party these days (she kept trying to play the “I used to work here” card, which doesn't actually work)
-what building I live in
I tell her:
-there used to be barbecues on the weekends at one of the dorms, I guess?
-in [a vague location] (not your fucking business)
Finally Rob gets her back into 30 and she goes away. The two of us are trying to figure out why she got moved into 35, and finally it dawns on us with growing horror: she had requested a room with a bathtub last night, and Nutjob Boss had moved her out of 30 after telling her she had that one for sure. Well, guess what? She did that because 30 didn't have a bathtub. Rob and I figure this out and Rob leaves her a voicemail, because he knows how much I don't want to deal with her and I'm on the phone with someone else for a while.
She comes back to the desk. “[Karen], 30?”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Uh, we didn't call because the room was ready. Rob just called to let you know that 30 doesn't have a bathtub.”
“Oh. (hem, haw, hem, haw) No, I'll just keep 30.”
“Okay.”
“I don't check my voicemail. I'm going to go over there and look at both cabins and let you know.”
What-the-fuck-ever. Just get away from me.
“Rob, you know what the first two strikes were. The third one was she wouldn't stop calling me [hated diminutive of my name].”
“Yeah, what was up with that?”
“Beats me. Basically if you're not my grandma and you haven't saved my life, you're not allowed to call me that.”
“Yeah. Just 'cause my real first name is [name] doesn't mean you get to call me [rude nickname].”
I don't come to YOUR office and tell you how to do YOUR job
Guest: (walks up to the desk and states only) [Lastname], I have a reservation.
Me: Ok, let me see here. (looks him up in the window I have open, which happens to be for our sister lodge whose reservations we also handle because it has no front desk. Walks over and pulls registration card, walks back to guest) So it looks like you have a room with X Queen beds for X nights for X people with <view>.
Guest: (in the snidest, most condescending manner possible) Here, maybe these will HELP you. (shoves confirmation papers at me)
Me: (already biting back tears over the shift from hell, and getting turned down for a job I thought I had sewn up earlier in the day) (angrily runs check for all properties) Oh, yeah, you also have a <view> cabin with X Queen beds for X people. (walks over to bucket and pulls other registration card, which some ass didn't file either
a.) paper-clipped to the first card like it was supposed to be, or
b.) in alphabetical order,
so it was stuffed in in the middle of the pile for that letter) (explains to guest it wasn't alphabetized properly)
Guest: (says nothing apologetic and continues to ask me stupid, pompous questions like “How do you summon the bell-captain?” Who. The hell. Talks like that.)
Some people who make it suck less
This gentleman walks up toward the end of my shift and bellows “THERE'S-NO-SPA IN-MY-ROOM!”
I stare him dead in the eye for about 5 seconds before he starts to smirk, and we both just crack up laughing.
Had this nice couple come up to pay their bill and they said they'd charged a dinner to the room that wasn't showing up. I finally called the restaurant manager and she came down to help. She couldn't find proof of it, even though they'd amazingly remembered their table number, so we thanked them for being so honest and just charged them for what we had listed. I wished I had the authority to knock off part of their bill, but I knew they wouldn't go along with it anyway.
This completely dizzy woman comes up to me at the desk today and goes “[Karen]. Thirty.”
“Um, excuse me?”
“My name? Is [Karen]? I'm in room X30?” Like it was completely obvious and that's a perfectly normal thing to say to someone.
“Okay. And the last name?”
“[Lastname].”
I look it up by room number first, because I have a bad feeling.
“Okay, looks like we still need to check you in. You appear to be in room X35.”
“No, no, I came in yesterday and she told me I had 30! My car is parked there and everything!”
“Okay, well, we really aren't supposed to give out room numbers the day before. This room is directly next door to 30, in the very next cabin over.” I show her on a map. It's literally house-trailer-style next-door. You can practically hit the cabin with a broom handle from the door of the other building.
“But I'm parked by Thiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrtttttyyyy! Which way does it face?”
[Um, I'm sorry, what? You don't have a view in any direction, what does it matter?]
“It faces south.”
“No, I want 30! It faces north!”
I look over at my boss, despairing of this woman. From the first two sentences I just wanted her to go away from my desk. It's sad when this is my goal in any customer interaction.
“Rob?”
“Yeah.” He starts working on shifting her back to 30. Apparently he wants her gone as bad as I do.
This woman asks me:
-where the employees party these days (she kept trying to play the “I used to work here” card, which doesn't actually work)
-what building I live in
I tell her:
-there used to be barbecues on the weekends at one of the dorms, I guess?
-in [a vague location] (not your fucking business)
Finally Rob gets her back into 30 and she goes away. The two of us are trying to figure out why she got moved into 35, and finally it dawns on us with growing horror: she had requested a room with a bathtub last night, and Nutjob Boss had moved her out of 30 after telling her she had that one for sure. Well, guess what? She did that because 30 didn't have a bathtub. Rob and I figure this out and Rob leaves her a voicemail, because he knows how much I don't want to deal with her and I'm on the phone with someone else for a while.
She comes back to the desk. “[Karen], 30?”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Uh, we didn't call because the room was ready. Rob just called to let you know that 30 doesn't have a bathtub.”
“Oh. (hem, haw, hem, haw) No, I'll just keep 30.”
“Okay.”
“I don't check my voicemail. I'm going to go over there and look at both cabins and let you know.”
What-the-fuck-ever. Just get away from me.
“Rob, you know what the first two strikes were. The third one was she wouldn't stop calling me [hated diminutive of my name].”
“Yeah, what was up with that?”
“Beats me. Basically if you're not my grandma and you haven't saved my life, you're not allowed to call me that.”
“Yeah. Just 'cause my real first name is [name] doesn't mean you get to call me [rude nickname].”
I don't come to YOUR office and tell you how to do YOUR job
Guest: (walks up to the desk and states only) [Lastname], I have a reservation.
Me: Ok, let me see here. (looks him up in the window I have open, which happens to be for our sister lodge whose reservations we also handle because it has no front desk. Walks over and pulls registration card, walks back to guest) So it looks like you have a room with X Queen beds for X nights for X people with <view>.
Guest: (in the snidest, most condescending manner possible) Here, maybe these will HELP you. (shoves confirmation papers at me)
Me: (already biting back tears over the shift from hell, and getting turned down for a job I thought I had sewn up earlier in the day) (angrily runs check for all properties) Oh, yeah, you also have a <view> cabin with X Queen beds for X people. (walks over to bucket and pulls other registration card, which some ass didn't file either
a.) paper-clipped to the first card like it was supposed to be, or
b.) in alphabetical order,
so it was stuffed in in the middle of the pile for that letter) (explains to guest it wasn't alphabetized properly)
Guest: (says nothing apologetic and continues to ask me stupid, pompous questions like “How do you summon the bell-captain?” Who. The hell. Talks like that.)
Some people who make it suck less
This gentleman walks up toward the end of my shift and bellows “THERE'S-NO-SPA IN-MY-ROOM!”
I stare him dead in the eye for about 5 seconds before he starts to smirk, and we both just crack up laughing.
Had this nice couple come up to pay their bill and they said they'd charged a dinner to the room that wasn't showing up. I finally called the restaurant manager and she came down to help. She couldn't find proof of it, even though they'd amazingly remembered their table number, so we thanked them for being so honest and just charged them for what we had listed. I wished I had the authority to knock off part of their bill, but I knew they wouldn't go along with it anyway.
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