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Not too far away from my hotel, a Sam's Club is rising from the earth like a zombie from its grave. In fact, they're almost done, and the store is already operating half shifts. The grand opening is later this week. Literally hundreds of people have converged on Hendersonville to help with the opening, to get the place up and running, and several local hotels, including ours, have huge blocks of rooms set aside for Sam's Club employees, each booked according to reams of lists provided us by the Sam's Club bosses.
This is the part in the movie where the cheerful flute music gives way to a thudding bass drum, to alert the playful woodland creatures that danger is afoot. The denim-blue sky clouds over. Lightning strikes!
The problem we're having here is that this store opening is the most disorganized slog of bullshit that I have ever been a party to, and desk clerks at other hotels agree.
The people staying in the rooms don't know who their roommates are supposed to be. Some have arrived several days early. Others have arrived several days late. Guests supposed to be staying at one hotel show up at another. Every hotel is overbooked. Some guests' names appear on the original lists provided to us, but we learn they're not supposed to show up at all as their schedules warp mutate, and carry them to other places. We book other guests in those rooms, and then -- surprise! -- the original guests appear like alien abduction victims suddenly mysteriously returned to earth.
The boss doesn't know where his employees are staying, and the employees don't know where they're supposed to be staying. Non-smoking guests end up in smoking rooms either because their roommate smokes, or because the boss didn't know what to book for them at all, and took a random stab at it.
Rooms with single king-size beds are booked for the use of two complete strangers. It sounds like the plot of a porn movie, I know, but the guests aren't taking it that way. I could add this to my thread about manual labor in your good clothes, but it's appropriate here -- I just spent a good half hour hauling sleeper sofas from room to room upstairs to accommodate people who should have been in double rooms but who got singles instead.
A wing chair and a recliner were also part of the great migration, not to mention a pair of coffee tables.
At any rate, it's been six days of complete chaos here, ever since the first Sam's Club people started showing up -- or not showing up, as the case may be.
Thankfully, the guests themselves are, for the most part, very nice and understanding about everything, even if their bosses have their heads so far up their asses that they need snorkels to breathe. We've only had a little trouble with the guests, really just one -- he was a germophobe who demanded a can of Lysol brand disinfectant spray for his room or else he was walking out, and who was not to be seen anywhere during his stay, not carrying the Lysol. He clutched it the way a child clutches a teddy bear. This same guest also took deep personal offense at the fact that Hendersonville does not have a Starbucks store. His eyes got huge, he sputtered, fishlike, for a moment, then cursed under his breath, turned on his heel and stormed out. I've never seen a middle-aged man do such a good petulant stomp. Nellie Olsen could have taken lessons.
I will be so glad when this mess gets over with.
This is the part in the movie where the cheerful flute music gives way to a thudding bass drum, to alert the playful woodland creatures that danger is afoot. The denim-blue sky clouds over. Lightning strikes!
The problem we're having here is that this store opening is the most disorganized slog of bullshit that I have ever been a party to, and desk clerks at other hotels agree.
The people staying in the rooms don't know who their roommates are supposed to be. Some have arrived several days early. Others have arrived several days late. Guests supposed to be staying at one hotel show up at another. Every hotel is overbooked. Some guests' names appear on the original lists provided to us, but we learn they're not supposed to show up at all as their schedules warp mutate, and carry them to other places. We book other guests in those rooms, and then -- surprise! -- the original guests appear like alien abduction victims suddenly mysteriously returned to earth.
The boss doesn't know where his employees are staying, and the employees don't know where they're supposed to be staying. Non-smoking guests end up in smoking rooms either because their roommate smokes, or because the boss didn't know what to book for them at all, and took a random stab at it.
Rooms with single king-size beds are booked for the use of two complete strangers. It sounds like the plot of a porn movie, I know, but the guests aren't taking it that way. I could add this to my thread about manual labor in your good clothes, but it's appropriate here -- I just spent a good half hour hauling sleeper sofas from room to room upstairs to accommodate people who should have been in double rooms but who got singles instead.
A wing chair and a recliner were also part of the great migration, not to mention a pair of coffee tables.
At any rate, it's been six days of complete chaos here, ever since the first Sam's Club people started showing up -- or not showing up, as the case may be.
Thankfully, the guests themselves are, for the most part, very nice and understanding about everything, even if their bosses have their heads so far up their asses that they need snorkels to breathe. We've only had a little trouble with the guests, really just one -- he was a germophobe who demanded a can of Lysol brand disinfectant spray for his room or else he was walking out, and who was not to be seen anywhere during his stay, not carrying the Lysol. He clutched it the way a child clutches a teddy bear. This same guest also took deep personal offense at the fact that Hendersonville does not have a Starbucks store. His eyes got huge, he sputtered, fishlike, for a moment, then cursed under his breath, turned on his heel and stormed out. I've never seen a middle-aged man do such a good petulant stomp. Nellie Olsen could have taken lessons.
I will be so glad when this mess gets over with.
I heard about that Sams club on the radio too
), paid meals, motel room, and one store is still short staffed.
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