Tweet
I mean it kids...vulgar! 
If you're easily offended...just hit back, and we'll be ok!
It's a lot week. I would say it's BEEN a long week, but it's not over yet, so I can't really do that now can I? One more day until a day off, then I'm scheduled 10 days in a row...so I'm sure my forthcoming arrest for beating someone to death with a table lamp will be rather amusing.
OK! So. Here. We. Go!
Why am I not surprised?
Me: Alright, can I get your card number?
SC: xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx
Me: And the expiration?
SC: …..
Me: …..
SC: Uh…I don’t know that.
Of course you don’t. It never once, in your short, disappointing existence, occurred to you that the date of expiration on your credit card might be important information. Why not venture a guess though? I mean really, go ahead…just pick something that sounds like a pair of numbers in your head. Just blurt out the first thing comes to mind; I assume it will come out something like “blurg splort” and verify that you are, as I suspected, the kind of moron who licks the gutter water outside a strip club for a cheap thrill. After all, if you can’t figure out that you could just look at the card in your hand and read the dates off for me, then I presume you’re a gutter-licking moron. At best. Now move along, I’m in a good mood…or couldn’t you tell?
Um…it’s not a timed event yet.
SC: How late do you hold a room? We won’t be there until 6.
Me: ??? We don’t just give your rooms away…
This one’s more of a gripe…to anyone who’s never worked in a hotel, this question gets asked ENTIRELY too much. So, here’s the rundown, so everyone knows: any major hotel isn’t going to just hand your room to someone else because you’re not there right at check-in time. Most hotels extend regular check-in times through midnight, or even later. You might get WALKED if you come in later (which, trust me, we hate to do as much as you might think…it sucks walking pissed off wankers), but otherwise you’re fine. Of course, as I say this, I know I am going to get several more calls next week asking the same. Damn. Question.
Bastards.
Things change, cowboy.
SC: Hi, what are your rates?
Me: For what date? They do change from day to day.
SC: What?
Me: Our rates can change daily based on availability.
SC: Oh, you mean like, some rooms may not be available to it starts higher.
Me: (I noticed that was not a question…here we go…) No, I mean that the rates for the rooms themselves change based on availability.
SC: That doesn’t make sense!
Me: It does, in a way; they changed based on supply and demand. Generally, the busier the hotel is, the higher the rate, and vice versa.
SC: That’s not right!!!
Me: How so?
SC: You’re engaging in false advertising?
Me: How so? We openly state that our rates are based on availability; any time we list a rate, we list rates “starting from…” implying that they may go up as well. If anything, we’ve honestly advertised our rates.
SC: THAT’S NOT TRUE!!!
Me: Well, sir, I can’t really debate that. Suffice to say our rates don’t stay the same, and there’s little I can do to change that. Would you like to reserve a room?
*Click*
Maybe it was that he didn’t like what he was hearing. Maybe it was that, for some reason, he doesn’t understand the concept of supply and demand. Or maybe it was the fact that I delivered every response in a completely deadpan, monotone voice. Either way, my goal was met. That Which We Shall Call Fumples (because really, come on, you know that’s probably his family name with the sort of mental prowess he displayed) simply could not handle the direct Uncle Khiras approach to things.
I’m sorry! Really! I know that you are used to a more direct approach, one mostly associated with grunting, scratching oneself, then beating a club at the ground and shrieking in anger, but I don’t know how to communicate with your kind. The tenets of basic social interaction and general hygiene as it pertains to “not rubbing my poop all over my body” more or less prevent me from sinking to your level. Maybe you can find a Motel 6 or something and they’ll have a nice, stable rate for you. Or maybe you can nip off and play in traffic for a while. Guess which one has my vote!
Why you mother f-.
SC: What are your rates for (date)
Me: I have a blah room at $$$ and another room at $$$, and fina-
*phone slamming…click&
Me: Mother fucker!!!
Hey, fuckwit! Yes, you! Let me bring you in on a concept: you called me, you blazing asshole! We’re not wasting YOUR time because you called a well-known LUXURY property, and then realized that a well-known LUXURY property is *gasp* expensive! You are wasting ours by being a waste of fucking space. People do honestly ask me why I despise 90% of the human population. Well, here’s a spoiler: this fucking guy is why.
Seriously…at least take the time to admit something. Maybe admit that it’s too expensive. Or that you’re trying to save. Or that you’re an idiot. Or, at the very least, take the time to mention “I’m an inconsiderate fuck who doesn’t even have the decency to mutter ‘thanks, bye’ before slamming my phone down like a petulant child, despite being an old man.” This is why “die in a fire” exists as a phrase and honest wish.
It would work if you had the intellect to process this information…
Bit of background info: we use a service to run our website and take reservations. Now, I have a lot of faith in the people who build websites, so I know that 99% of the “problems” with a website are not the fault of those who built it. Most of them are caused by the idiots who THINK they understand what a good website has…and so they pay someone to do the dumbest possible thing on their site. This stupidity has doomed me to answer this call many a time…
SC: I’m having a problem with your website, trying to make a reservation.
Me: (/facepalm…here we go again, I get this call every damn day…) ….What’s the problem?
SC: I’m on the website.
Me: (Are you fucking kidding me? NO WAI!!!) ……..
SC: …..Uh….and I’m trying to enter in payment, but it won’t take my credit card.
Me: O-
SC: I keep hitting the pulldown menu, but it’s blank.
Me: O-
SC: And I can’t put in my info.
Me: (Stop interrupting me, fucko!) OK!!! I can help you with that. First, click somewhere else on the page, just not on the pulldown menu.
SC: O…k….
Me: (Fuck, he sounds too slow to understand…here goes nothing!) When you clicked off the menu and it closed (I hope…), it should have uncovered a link below that says ‘enter in card information’?
SC: No…there’s nothing like that…
Me: Ok, what do you see?
SC: The pulldown menu is blank, there’s nothing there.
Me: There won’t be…you need to click somewhere on the page that isn’t on that menu, so it closes.
SC: Oh…there’s still nothing!
Me: (AAAAAAARGH!) Don’t click on the menu again…just click somewhere off to the side to close it!
SC: OH! Oh. Ok, I closed it, I think…
Me: (You THINK? It’s not like something you can do halfway…) Ok, do you see the link below the menu now?
SC: Yeah…but I haven’t put in my card info yet!
Me: I know…you need to click that link.
SC: But my card info isn’t in there yet!
Me: I. Know. Click. The. Link. Please.
SC: But it’s going to move on if I do that, isn’t it?
Me: Click it.
SC: Are you sure?
Me: Click it.
SC: What should I do if there’s an error?
Me: Click it.
SC: I’m still not sure…
Me: (For. Fuck’s. Sake.) Click. It.
SC: ……..
Me: ………..
SC: OH! Ok, that worked. Thanks!
*click*
Me: Please die.
I…I am seriously…god, I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to say about this. I mean, really, come on! How many years did this guy piss on the toilet seat before someone told him to put it up first? Presumably, he is of an age that he can go to the bathroom without too much outside assistance, so one would think that clicking a link as instructed would be an easy task, right? Here, watch, I can give simple instructions that he may be used to, whenever he calls for help as needed:
Pull open door.
Remove pants.
Remove underpants.
Sit on toilet.
Shit.
Congratulations, you didn’t shit your pants, and got it in the toilet! You win! Oh crap (no pun intended), I forgot to tell him to wipe though…damn, I knew there was a dangerous catch in what I was doing. At least I’m comfortably here on this side of the phone line while, presumably, he is wallowing around in his own feces. Somehow, the state of his now-ruined pants is hardly a surprise to me. Oh hell...is this why people call GK so damn much!? Whoops...
Uh huh huh butts.
Ah, the joys of prank calling. Maybe I was a lame youth, but I never thought prank calling someone was amusing. Oh wait…it’s not that: it’s that I wasn’t a complete and total fuckwit when I was a kid. It’s amazing how simple the answer is sometimes.
SC: (In a very poorly imitated English accent) I have a problem in my room.
Me: (Sigh…here we fucking go) What? (Typing information into Google…)
SC: I came into my room, and there is a piece of shit on my toilet seat. And someone rubbed shit on my mirror and said “fuck you”. And the maid was washing her genitals in my sink, and wiping her clit with my towel. What are you going to do about it?
Me: (Google results are in! Yay!) Your telephone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx, registered to xxxx something street, here, etc. The address is in the phone book as belonging to Some Idiots Parents. You should also really learn to one, block your phone number, and two, learn how to prank call like an intelligent being.
SC: …
Me: I mean, really, let’s be honest here. You are terrible at this. Last week we had someone who was much more impressive! He blocked his number like a pro, and it took several minutes before anyone caught on that it was a prank. And he at least had the decency to be funny about it!
SC: …
Me: Also, where the hell did you pick up that accent? It sounds like you copied it from an Englishman on a crappy pirate cartoon and thought it was authentic. If you’re going to use an accent, you might not want to use one that has a lot of words most Americans don’t use often, like “privies” and such. Right now, you sound like a Russian imitating a Canadian, and guessing the wrong country.
SC: …Man…*sniff*
Me: ….Ho. Ly. Hell. Are you crying!?
SC: *sniff…gulp*
Me: You are, aren’t you!?
SC: *Sniff* N…no…
Me: AAAAAHAHAHAHA!!! Are you serious!? Dude, you called me! God, do you have your friends sitting there?
SC: …..
ME: HA! You do, don’t you!? Tap-dancing Christ, it must really suck to be you today, doesn’t it?
*click*
Never. EVER. In the history of my work have I ever owned someone as hard as I owned that kid. I couldn’t even get mad, and I have no idea what made me start talking, but he broke the dam open and got the entire, brutal comeback that I had usually kept silent. By the end, I had an entire office of co-workers (and thankfully none of my supervisors) staring at me in open shock, thinking I had just flipped out on some normal caller.
And I made the kid cry! In front of his friends! Captain Brass Testicles will show you the light of the true hero, and ye shall know his POWAH!!! Cross me on a bad day with a prank call at your own peril, lest I leave you a blubbering mass of flesh, crying as you beat off to an old picture of Vanilla Ice into one of your mother’s grotesque sweat socks.
You are welcome, CS, for the mental image. You can’t not think about it.
Let’s play the No Game. NO!
SC: I was wondering if I can book the (package we no longer offer) for (random date).
Me: I’m afraid that package was part of our Summer promotion…as of this last week, we’re no longer offering that through the rest of the year.
SC: But it’s still listed on the website.
Me: Which website?
SC: Uh… www.notyourhotel’swebsite.com
Me: Ok…that’s not a website we run, so I can’t really say much about that. Our website is this…and as you’ll see, that package is no longer listed there.
SC: So you won’t honor that package rate!?!? It’s on the website!!!
Me: It’s on *A* website…not OUR website. They’re listing outdated information there; the website we run clearly shows the packages are not available, so I’m afraid we can no longer offer those rates now.
SC: That’s false advertising!
Me: (Why does everyone always say that?) It’s actually not…it would be closer if WE were the ones advertising the package, but seeing as we have no control over that website, we can’t be responsible for the fact that their information is no longer correct. We’ve updated our advertising on our end.
SC: But they say you have those packages!
Me: That doesn’t matter; they are giving you incorrect information about us, not the other way around. They could write that we have $2 rooms, but that would neither make the information true, nor would it obligate us to honor that rate.
SC: So you won’t do anything?
Me: I can’t do anything…important difference.
*Click*
Why is everyone hanging up on me this week? Is it because of my flowering personality? I don’t understand! I’ve been such a good boy all week; I didn’t even tell someone that I want to running-start-anal-punt their mothers with a spiked boot for inflicting them upon the Earth. And really, for me, that is quite the accomplishment! It may come as shocking, but I’m a somewhat crass, uncaring, and generally hateful individual. When I encounter someone like this, my first response is generally to be a smartass, and tell them why they are wrong/idiots.
I know what you’re thinking: “What!? YOU!?” Sorry to surprise you.
Still, that in mind, I’m not going to give you something that we don’t offer. I’m not even going to consider being a pal, and giving you some suggestions. I’m just going to say no, explain why you’re an idiot, hit mute on my phone and sigh audibly when you continue talking, and put a tremendous amount of willpower into my hopes that you simply develop a giant boil somewhere on your mansack. I will do all this because, in short, it’s kind of what I do here. Some would say that I am being paid to be a friendly, helpful individual. I will quickly point out that this is true, and the money is clearly wasted on a bitter, cynical, pessimistic husk that was once a happy man before entering the hotel industry.
“But Khiras, where did you learn this?” the guests will ask. I LEARNED IT FROM YOU, OK!!! I LEARNED IT FROM YOU!!! *runs away crying and shuts the door to his room*
And don’t come in! I found a great porno the other day, and I need to study it. Wait…what?
Uh...I'm...gonna...go now.........not awkward or anything...
If you're easily offended...just hit back, and we'll be ok!It's a lot week. I would say it's BEEN a long week, but it's not over yet, so I can't really do that now can I? One more day until a day off, then I'm scheduled 10 days in a row...so I'm sure my forthcoming arrest for beating someone to death with a table lamp will be rather amusing.
OK! So. Here. We. Go!
Why am I not surprised?
Me: Alright, can I get your card number?
SC: xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx
Me: And the expiration?
SC: …..
Me: …..
SC: Uh…I don’t know that.
Of course you don’t. It never once, in your short, disappointing existence, occurred to you that the date of expiration on your credit card might be important information. Why not venture a guess though? I mean really, go ahead…just pick something that sounds like a pair of numbers in your head. Just blurt out the first thing comes to mind; I assume it will come out something like “blurg splort” and verify that you are, as I suspected, the kind of moron who licks the gutter water outside a strip club for a cheap thrill. After all, if you can’t figure out that you could just look at the card in your hand and read the dates off for me, then I presume you’re a gutter-licking moron. At best. Now move along, I’m in a good mood…or couldn’t you tell?
Um…it’s not a timed event yet.
SC: How late do you hold a room? We won’t be there until 6.
Me: ??? We don’t just give your rooms away…
This one’s more of a gripe…to anyone who’s never worked in a hotel, this question gets asked ENTIRELY too much. So, here’s the rundown, so everyone knows: any major hotel isn’t going to just hand your room to someone else because you’re not there right at check-in time. Most hotels extend regular check-in times through midnight, or even later. You might get WALKED if you come in later (which, trust me, we hate to do as much as you might think…it sucks walking pissed off wankers), but otherwise you’re fine. Of course, as I say this, I know I am going to get several more calls next week asking the same. Damn. Question.
Bastards.
Things change, cowboy.
SC: Hi, what are your rates?
Me: For what date? They do change from day to day.
SC: What?
Me: Our rates can change daily based on availability.
SC: Oh, you mean like, some rooms may not be available to it starts higher.
Me: (I noticed that was not a question…here we go…) No, I mean that the rates for the rooms themselves change based on availability.
SC: That doesn’t make sense!
Me: It does, in a way; they changed based on supply and demand. Generally, the busier the hotel is, the higher the rate, and vice versa.
SC: That’s not right!!!
Me: How so?
SC: You’re engaging in false advertising?
Me: How so? We openly state that our rates are based on availability; any time we list a rate, we list rates “starting from…” implying that they may go up as well. If anything, we’ve honestly advertised our rates.
SC: THAT’S NOT TRUE!!!
Me: Well, sir, I can’t really debate that. Suffice to say our rates don’t stay the same, and there’s little I can do to change that. Would you like to reserve a room?
*Click*
Maybe it was that he didn’t like what he was hearing. Maybe it was that, for some reason, he doesn’t understand the concept of supply and demand. Or maybe it was the fact that I delivered every response in a completely deadpan, monotone voice. Either way, my goal was met. That Which We Shall Call Fumples (because really, come on, you know that’s probably his family name with the sort of mental prowess he displayed) simply could not handle the direct Uncle Khiras approach to things.
I’m sorry! Really! I know that you are used to a more direct approach, one mostly associated with grunting, scratching oneself, then beating a club at the ground and shrieking in anger, but I don’t know how to communicate with your kind. The tenets of basic social interaction and general hygiene as it pertains to “not rubbing my poop all over my body” more or less prevent me from sinking to your level. Maybe you can find a Motel 6 or something and they’ll have a nice, stable rate for you. Or maybe you can nip off and play in traffic for a while. Guess which one has my vote!
Why you mother f-.
SC: What are your rates for (date)
Me: I have a blah room at $$$ and another room at $$$, and fina-
*phone slamming…click&
Me: Mother fucker!!!
Hey, fuckwit! Yes, you! Let me bring you in on a concept: you called me, you blazing asshole! We’re not wasting YOUR time because you called a well-known LUXURY property, and then realized that a well-known LUXURY property is *gasp* expensive! You are wasting ours by being a waste of fucking space. People do honestly ask me why I despise 90% of the human population. Well, here’s a spoiler: this fucking guy is why.
Seriously…at least take the time to admit something. Maybe admit that it’s too expensive. Or that you’re trying to save. Or that you’re an idiot. Or, at the very least, take the time to mention “I’m an inconsiderate fuck who doesn’t even have the decency to mutter ‘thanks, bye’ before slamming my phone down like a petulant child, despite being an old man.” This is why “die in a fire” exists as a phrase and honest wish.
It would work if you had the intellect to process this information…
Bit of background info: we use a service to run our website and take reservations. Now, I have a lot of faith in the people who build websites, so I know that 99% of the “problems” with a website are not the fault of those who built it. Most of them are caused by the idiots who THINK they understand what a good website has…and so they pay someone to do the dumbest possible thing on their site. This stupidity has doomed me to answer this call many a time…
SC: I’m having a problem with your website, trying to make a reservation.
Me: (/facepalm…here we go again, I get this call every damn day…) ….What’s the problem?
SC: I’m on the website.
Me: (Are you fucking kidding me? NO WAI!!!) ……..
SC: …..Uh….and I’m trying to enter in payment, but it won’t take my credit card.
Me: O-
SC: I keep hitting the pulldown menu, but it’s blank.
Me: O-
SC: And I can’t put in my info.
Me: (Stop interrupting me, fucko!) OK!!! I can help you with that. First, click somewhere else on the page, just not on the pulldown menu.
SC: O…k….
Me: (Fuck, he sounds too slow to understand…here goes nothing!) When you clicked off the menu and it closed (I hope…), it should have uncovered a link below that says ‘enter in card information’?
SC: No…there’s nothing like that…
Me: Ok, what do you see?
SC: The pulldown menu is blank, there’s nothing there.
Me: There won’t be…you need to click somewhere on the page that isn’t on that menu, so it closes.
SC: Oh…there’s still nothing!
Me: (AAAAAAARGH!) Don’t click on the menu again…just click somewhere off to the side to close it!
SC: OH! Oh. Ok, I closed it, I think…
Me: (You THINK? It’s not like something you can do halfway…) Ok, do you see the link below the menu now?
SC: Yeah…but I haven’t put in my card info yet!
Me: I know…you need to click that link.
SC: But my card info isn’t in there yet!
Me: I. Know. Click. The. Link. Please.
SC: But it’s going to move on if I do that, isn’t it?
Me: Click it.
SC: Are you sure?
Me: Click it.
SC: What should I do if there’s an error?
Me: Click it.
SC: I’m still not sure…
Me: (For. Fuck’s. Sake.) Click. It.
SC: ……..
Me: ………..
SC: OH! Ok, that worked. Thanks!
*click*
Me: Please die.
I…I am seriously…god, I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to say about this. I mean, really, come on! How many years did this guy piss on the toilet seat before someone told him to put it up first? Presumably, he is of an age that he can go to the bathroom without too much outside assistance, so one would think that clicking a link as instructed would be an easy task, right? Here, watch, I can give simple instructions that he may be used to, whenever he calls for help as needed:
Pull open door.
Remove pants.
Remove underpants.
Sit on toilet.
Shit.
Congratulations, you didn’t shit your pants, and got it in the toilet! You win! Oh crap (no pun intended), I forgot to tell him to wipe though…damn, I knew there was a dangerous catch in what I was doing. At least I’m comfortably here on this side of the phone line while, presumably, he is wallowing around in his own feces. Somehow, the state of his now-ruined pants is hardly a surprise to me. Oh hell...is this why people call GK so damn much!? Whoops...
Uh huh huh butts.
Ah, the joys of prank calling. Maybe I was a lame youth, but I never thought prank calling someone was amusing. Oh wait…it’s not that: it’s that I wasn’t a complete and total fuckwit when I was a kid. It’s amazing how simple the answer is sometimes.
SC: (In a very poorly imitated English accent) I have a problem in my room.
Me: (Sigh…here we fucking go) What? (Typing information into Google…)
SC: I came into my room, and there is a piece of shit on my toilet seat. And someone rubbed shit on my mirror and said “fuck you”. And the maid was washing her genitals in my sink, and wiping her clit with my towel. What are you going to do about it?
Me: (Google results are in! Yay!) Your telephone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx, registered to xxxx something street, here, etc. The address is in the phone book as belonging to Some Idiots Parents. You should also really learn to one, block your phone number, and two, learn how to prank call like an intelligent being.
SC: …
Me: I mean, really, let’s be honest here. You are terrible at this. Last week we had someone who was much more impressive! He blocked his number like a pro, and it took several minutes before anyone caught on that it was a prank. And he at least had the decency to be funny about it!
SC: …
Me: Also, where the hell did you pick up that accent? It sounds like you copied it from an Englishman on a crappy pirate cartoon and thought it was authentic. If you’re going to use an accent, you might not want to use one that has a lot of words most Americans don’t use often, like “privies” and such. Right now, you sound like a Russian imitating a Canadian, and guessing the wrong country.
SC: …Man…*sniff*
Me: ….Ho. Ly. Hell. Are you crying!?
SC: *sniff…gulp*
Me: You are, aren’t you!?
SC: *Sniff* N…no…
Me: AAAAAHAHAHAHA!!! Are you serious!? Dude, you called me! God, do you have your friends sitting there?
SC: …..
ME: HA! You do, don’t you!? Tap-dancing Christ, it must really suck to be you today, doesn’t it?
*click*
Never. EVER. In the history of my work have I ever owned someone as hard as I owned that kid. I couldn’t even get mad, and I have no idea what made me start talking, but he broke the dam open and got the entire, brutal comeback that I had usually kept silent. By the end, I had an entire office of co-workers (and thankfully none of my supervisors) staring at me in open shock, thinking I had just flipped out on some normal caller.
And I made the kid cry! In front of his friends! Captain Brass Testicles will show you the light of the true hero, and ye shall know his POWAH!!! Cross me on a bad day with a prank call at your own peril, lest I leave you a blubbering mass of flesh, crying as you beat off to an old picture of Vanilla Ice into one of your mother’s grotesque sweat socks.
You are welcome, CS, for the mental image. You can’t not think about it.
Let’s play the No Game. NO!
SC: I was wondering if I can book the (package we no longer offer) for (random date).
Me: I’m afraid that package was part of our Summer promotion…as of this last week, we’re no longer offering that through the rest of the year.
SC: But it’s still listed on the website.
Me: Which website?
SC: Uh… www.notyourhotel’swebsite.com
Me: Ok…that’s not a website we run, so I can’t really say much about that. Our website is this…and as you’ll see, that package is no longer listed there.
SC: So you won’t honor that package rate!?!? It’s on the website!!!
Me: It’s on *A* website…not OUR website. They’re listing outdated information there; the website we run clearly shows the packages are not available, so I’m afraid we can no longer offer those rates now.
SC: That’s false advertising!
Me: (Why does everyone always say that?) It’s actually not…it would be closer if WE were the ones advertising the package, but seeing as we have no control over that website, we can’t be responsible for the fact that their information is no longer correct. We’ve updated our advertising on our end.
SC: But they say you have those packages!
Me: That doesn’t matter; they are giving you incorrect information about us, not the other way around. They could write that we have $2 rooms, but that would neither make the information true, nor would it obligate us to honor that rate.
SC: So you won’t do anything?
Me: I can’t do anything…important difference.
*Click*
Why is everyone hanging up on me this week? Is it because of my flowering personality? I don’t understand! I’ve been such a good boy all week; I didn’t even tell someone that I want to running-start-anal-punt their mothers with a spiked boot for inflicting them upon the Earth. And really, for me, that is quite the accomplishment! It may come as shocking, but I’m a somewhat crass, uncaring, and generally hateful individual. When I encounter someone like this, my first response is generally to be a smartass, and tell them why they are wrong/idiots.
I know what you’re thinking: “What!? YOU!?” Sorry to surprise you.
Still, that in mind, I’m not going to give you something that we don’t offer. I’m not even going to consider being a pal, and giving you some suggestions. I’m just going to say no, explain why you’re an idiot, hit mute on my phone and sigh audibly when you continue talking, and put a tremendous amount of willpower into my hopes that you simply develop a giant boil somewhere on your mansack. I will do all this because, in short, it’s kind of what I do here. Some would say that I am being paid to be a friendly, helpful individual. I will quickly point out that this is true, and the money is clearly wasted on a bitter, cynical, pessimistic husk that was once a happy man before entering the hotel industry.
“But Khiras, where did you learn this?” the guests will ask. I LEARNED IT FROM YOU, OK!!! I LEARNED IT FROM YOU!!! *runs away crying and shuts the door to his room*
And don’t come in! I found a great porno the other day, and I need to study it. Wait…what?
Uh...I'm...gonna...go now.........not awkward or anything...
Well played, sir! I hope the little turkey's friends never ever let him hear the end of it! 
Comment