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Here we are in one of the first weekends of high tourist season and the SC's abound. Two yesterday and one so far today.
Friday:
SC number one was a man who had mentioned several times over the course of his stay that he might stay another night, but never told us definitely. It was the perfect storm of the guest not telling us what he was going to do, coworker stupidity when the other first shift clerk checked him out without a thought as to why all his things were still in the room, and his shock at the fact that rates on weekends are higher.
To make a long story short, he ranted and raved about how it was poor customer service to not want to lose $50 on the room by keeping his rate the same all the way through. He also made sure to list all the continents on which he had stayed in hotels and about how he had never encountered such poor customer service before. My boss' sister, who is looking after this property while the boss is attending to personal matters in India, was here to listen to this exchange and was not impressed. Like her sister, she was born in Africa, grew up in India, and speaks and writes four languages fluently. She can top your vacation to Australia.
At any rate, he left, then came back after getting his things and preparing to leave because I refused to budge on the rates. He made sure to mention all the continents where he had stayed at hotels again, and the list the second time around was longer, unsurprisingly. But, at that point he did finally go away.
SC number two was a woman who entered the lobby, then announced to her husband, simply, that "Oh, I don't want to stay in a place like this," then turned on her heel and left.
Saturday:
As I write this, it's not even seven a.m. and some people who checked in yesterday have had a fit that we don't have sugar-free syrup for the waffles on the continental breakfast. They also made sure to mention that there wasn't a box of tissues in their room, but they did not want a box of tissues.
"We'll just make do," is what they said, and I suppose I understand where they're coming from. Every now and then I too enjoy not fixing problems that annoy me so I can thrill in being a martyr, no matter how minor one. They also noted there wasn't a comment card in the room and that they have "several" comments for us.
I just can't wait.
And now we come to a sucky coworker. The stupid woman who blithely checks out reservations that are not scheduled to check out, and checks them out no matter if the guest's belongings are still in the room just called and tried to get out of working today. She does this every Saturday and it's usually the same excuse -- someone has to go to the doctor. My boss' sister was unmoved and told her that she would have to come in for at least a couple of hours until she can figure out who can work in place of the stupid woman. As it stands, the stupid woman only works two days a week as it is, and it would seem she can't get through a Saturday without something going terribly wrong in her household. It's the witching hour all over again -- that cursed stretch of time between 6 and 7 in the morning when, it would seem, appendixes are just more apt to burst. At least she hasn't done, yet, what the girl she replaced did and suffered a rash of 6 am meteorite strikes, housefires, and flat tires.
Friday:
SC number one was a man who had mentioned several times over the course of his stay that he might stay another night, but never told us definitely. It was the perfect storm of the guest not telling us what he was going to do, coworker stupidity when the other first shift clerk checked him out without a thought as to why all his things were still in the room, and his shock at the fact that rates on weekends are higher.
To make a long story short, he ranted and raved about how it was poor customer service to not want to lose $50 on the room by keeping his rate the same all the way through. He also made sure to list all the continents on which he had stayed in hotels and about how he had never encountered such poor customer service before. My boss' sister, who is looking after this property while the boss is attending to personal matters in India, was here to listen to this exchange and was not impressed. Like her sister, she was born in Africa, grew up in India, and speaks and writes four languages fluently. She can top your vacation to Australia.
At any rate, he left, then came back after getting his things and preparing to leave because I refused to budge on the rates. He made sure to mention all the continents where he had stayed at hotels again, and the list the second time around was longer, unsurprisingly. But, at that point he did finally go away.
SC number two was a woman who entered the lobby, then announced to her husband, simply, that "Oh, I don't want to stay in a place like this," then turned on her heel and left.
Saturday:
As I write this, it's not even seven a.m. and some people who checked in yesterday have had a fit that we don't have sugar-free syrup for the waffles on the continental breakfast. They also made sure to mention that there wasn't a box of tissues in their room, but they did not want a box of tissues.
"We'll just make do," is what they said, and I suppose I understand where they're coming from. Every now and then I too enjoy not fixing problems that annoy me so I can thrill in being a martyr, no matter how minor one. They also noted there wasn't a comment card in the room and that they have "several" comments for us.
I just can't wait.
And now we come to a sucky coworker. The stupid woman who blithely checks out reservations that are not scheduled to check out, and checks them out no matter if the guest's belongings are still in the room just called and tried to get out of working today. She does this every Saturday and it's usually the same excuse -- someone has to go to the doctor. My boss' sister was unmoved and told her that she would have to come in for at least a couple of hours until she can figure out who can work in place of the stupid woman. As it stands, the stupid woman only works two days a week as it is, and it would seem she can't get through a Saturday without something going terribly wrong in her household. It's the witching hour all over again -- that cursed stretch of time between 6 and 7 in the morning when, it would seem, appendixes are just more apt to burst. At least she hasn't done, yet, what the girl she replaced did and suffered a rash of 6 am meteorite strikes, housefires, and flat tires.
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