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So, last week I get a call complaining that a drunk guy is trying to get into their room at 2 am. (Geez throw the damn deadbolt and turn up the TV he's not gonna get you!)
I say sorry, I'll get right on it, yadda yadda blah blah and hang up.
Going to investigate, I find a guy lying facedown, not moving. At first I think he's choked on his own puke, (GROSS) and then he moves.
"Excuse me, sir? You're on the wrong floor." I say, and gather up all his things that are spread around him on the floor. His wallet, his keycard, his keycard packet. "You're in room.....601, not 501."
Drunk: "Wha? Wha room am I....?"
Me: "601. Sir, you need to move NOW. People in there are complaining."
Drunk: "I'm....tryingggg...."*makes an attempt to get up*
He finally stumbles to his feet, and his nasty green yellowish puke is in a big puddle all over the hallway, the room he's in front of, and the room right next to that. The whole floor smells like shit. I give him his things when he's done emptying his stomach, tell him again his room number, and scurry off before he can puke on me. Phew! Close call.
Minutes later, a nice lady comes down to tell me she found a wallet. I immediately recognized it. Guess who's? I thank the lady.
I open it, just to make sure, and compare the name on the ID to the drunk's room. Bingo! I put it away, and go about my business.
Hours later, the drunk calls from his room, asking about a wallet. Doesn't even say sorry for puking and messing up our nice hallway carpet, or for creeping out our guests because he can't read. I admit it, I comtemplated saying no or playing dumb. But whatever. I'll do a good deed and have good karma sent my way.
I tell him we have it, and he acts all shocked. Yeah, there ARE some sober people up here, that can read. He bleats, "REALLY ARE YOU SURE IT'S A BROWN WALLET"
WTF? I just handed it to you earlier, douche, or were you too busy hurling to notice? Plus your frigging ID is in there. Dumbass.
He comes down, and whispers, "I want to check out. And give me my wallet you found." No 'Please.' I hand it over and he moans in relief, and then clutches his head in his hands, obviously very hungover.
I smile devilishly, grab our big heavy metal stapler, and crash it down on our hard topped counter with a nice loud bang. Oopsy! In the kitchen, the Breakfast lady drops a pan on the floor. Sends him into nice agnonized groans and moans of pain, clutching at his head like it's splitting. Probably was.
He glares up at me with very red eyes filled with water. "Have a nice day, sir!" I yell as I hand over his receipt. He hightails it out of there without a thank you.
Muahahahaa. I pity whoever had to clean his room though. Bet he didn't leave a tip.
I say sorry, I'll get right on it, yadda yadda blah blah and hang up.
Going to investigate, I find a guy lying facedown, not moving. At first I think he's choked on his own puke, (GROSS) and then he moves.
"Excuse me, sir? You're on the wrong floor." I say, and gather up all his things that are spread around him on the floor. His wallet, his keycard, his keycard packet. "You're in room.....601, not 501."
Drunk: "Wha? Wha room am I....?"
Me: "601. Sir, you need to move NOW. People in there are complaining."
Drunk: "I'm....tryingggg...."*makes an attempt to get up*
He finally stumbles to his feet, and his nasty green yellowish puke is in a big puddle all over the hallway, the room he's in front of, and the room right next to that. The whole floor smells like shit. I give him his things when he's done emptying his stomach, tell him again his room number, and scurry off before he can puke on me. Phew! Close call.
Minutes later, a nice lady comes down to tell me she found a wallet. I immediately recognized it. Guess who's? I thank the lady.
I open it, just to make sure, and compare the name on the ID to the drunk's room. Bingo! I put it away, and go about my business.
Hours later, the drunk calls from his room, asking about a wallet. Doesn't even say sorry for puking and messing up our nice hallway carpet, or for creeping out our guests because he can't read. I admit it, I comtemplated saying no or playing dumb. But whatever. I'll do a good deed and have good karma sent my way.
I tell him we have it, and he acts all shocked. Yeah, there ARE some sober people up here, that can read. He bleats, "REALLY ARE YOU SURE IT'S A BROWN WALLET"
WTF? I just handed it to you earlier, douche, or were you too busy hurling to notice? Plus your frigging ID is in there. Dumbass.
He comes down, and whispers, "I want to check out. And give me my wallet you found." No 'Please.' I hand it over and he moans in relief, and then clutches his head in his hands, obviously very hungover.
I smile devilishly, grab our big heavy metal stapler, and crash it down on our hard topped counter with a nice loud bang. Oopsy! In the kitchen, the Breakfast lady drops a pan on the floor. Sends him into nice agnonized groans and moans of pain, clutching at his head like it's splitting. Probably was.
He glares up at me with very red eyes filled with water. "Have a nice day, sir!" I yell as I hand over his receipt. He hightails it out of there without a thank you.
Muahahahaa. I pity whoever had to clean his room though. Bet he didn't leave a tip.
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