Another fun conversation just ended. Here it is word for word. The two particpants were myself and a gentleman with a very thick and Skoal-choked Southern accent who we shall refer to as Redneck (RD).
Me: Blah Inn, how can I help you?
RD: Hey, I want to know how much it is to rent a room for two.
Me: Do you live here inside Henderson County?
RD: Yeah.
Me: I'm sorry but we're not allowed to rent to locals anymore, but you might want to try one of the independent properties like the Independent Motel or the Also Independent Motel.
RD: You mean to tell me that the citizens and the people who built Henderson County can't rent a room there?
Me: It's standard policy at most area hotels, sir.
RD: Well, I think I'll just see if I can't put a piece in the Times-News (our local daily paper) about that.
Me: They already did that, sir. Go ahead.
RD: I think I just might.
Me: You do that. Bye-bye. *hangs up*
Now, here's the deal. As some may know, I'm very frustrated with my job at the moment although it's been very peaceful so far tonight. Part of my frustration is an unwillingness of the management to maintain the place properly or hire competent housekeepers to replace our current crop of idiots. Another part of my frustration is that we're the only chain property in town that rents to locals. All the others wised up and stopped doing it, and yes, there was indeed a piece in the paper about it last month in which the manager of a nearby hotel explained what I already know -- if you live here, you don't have a good reason to stay at a hotel. There are only two things that local go to hotels to do -- they come to fuck (usually someone else's spouse) and they come to do drugs.
With the former, it would seem that some men are simply incapable of getting it up without the aid of vandalism, which explains the time that someone tore the hooks out of the wooden (and expensive, for coat hangers) coat hangers in our jacuzzi suite, jammed said hooks in the walls and ceiling, and strung Christmas lights from them. Also, while I realize that who people do is none of my business, it becomes my business when the people those people should be doing instead show up and start trying to break into the room to grab the wife and kill her boyfriend or grab the husband and kill the girlfriend, or grab the boyfriend and kill the other boyfriend, or whatever else.
With the latter, I've been threatened by drug dealers ("You didn't see me, you didn't hear me, and you don't know who I am. Got it?), and there was one memorable time when a local lady went on a very bad acid trip and ran up and down the halls screaming that she was being raped.
There have, of course, been many, MANY other occasions of things going sour for amorous couples and drug addicts, locals all. So why do we rent to locals still? Because, simply, the owner makes too much money off the county's trailer trash and the city's ghetto thugs. If that puts the desk clerks in danger, that's really too bad, because Jamar from the housing projects on 7th will pay $69.95 plus tax, and so will Lurleen from the Panorama Vista View Prospect Lookout Trailer Courte, and by God if someone will pay $69.95, plus tax, then you get them in here no matter what they do, how they plan to destroy the room, or how many times the cops get called out.
And I've had enough. If a local comes in, I'll rent to them if they don't look like obvious scum, but I'll be damned before I'll rent to them before I have to. When the owner gets back in April, we'll be forced to rent to every last local again, but when she's gone, I won't. In fact, in years past the manager of our other properties has forbidden us from renting to locals while the owner was out of town. Usually we'd have one big incident before she'd reach her breaking point and bar the locals, like the time that someone strung out on cough medicine threatened a desk clerk with a brick, then broke out the window in his room with that brick because he thought the people in the rooms next door were trying to dig through the walls and come get him. The broken second floor window would have been his escape route, you see.
At any rate, I don't care if you laid the foundations for this building yourself. If you're a local, stay home and boink and/or smoke your meth. Just leave me the hell out of it.
Me: Blah Inn, how can I help you?
RD: Hey, I want to know how much it is to rent a room for two.
Me: Do you live here inside Henderson County?
RD: Yeah.
Me: I'm sorry but we're not allowed to rent to locals anymore, but you might want to try one of the independent properties like the Independent Motel or the Also Independent Motel.
RD: You mean to tell me that the citizens and the people who built Henderson County can't rent a room there?
Me: It's standard policy at most area hotels, sir.
RD: Well, I think I'll just see if I can't put a piece in the Times-News (our local daily paper) about that.
Me: They already did that, sir. Go ahead.
RD: I think I just might.
Me: You do that. Bye-bye. *hangs up*
Now, here's the deal. As some may know, I'm very frustrated with my job at the moment although it's been very peaceful so far tonight. Part of my frustration is an unwillingness of the management to maintain the place properly or hire competent housekeepers to replace our current crop of idiots. Another part of my frustration is that we're the only chain property in town that rents to locals. All the others wised up and stopped doing it, and yes, there was indeed a piece in the paper about it last month in which the manager of a nearby hotel explained what I already know -- if you live here, you don't have a good reason to stay at a hotel. There are only two things that local go to hotels to do -- they come to fuck (usually someone else's spouse) and they come to do drugs.
With the former, it would seem that some men are simply incapable of getting it up without the aid of vandalism, which explains the time that someone tore the hooks out of the wooden (and expensive, for coat hangers) coat hangers in our jacuzzi suite, jammed said hooks in the walls and ceiling, and strung Christmas lights from them. Also, while I realize that who people do is none of my business, it becomes my business when the people those people should be doing instead show up and start trying to break into the room to grab the wife and kill her boyfriend or grab the husband and kill the girlfriend, or grab the boyfriend and kill the other boyfriend, or whatever else.
With the latter, I've been threatened by drug dealers ("You didn't see me, you didn't hear me, and you don't know who I am. Got it?), and there was one memorable time when a local lady went on a very bad acid trip and ran up and down the halls screaming that she was being raped.
There have, of course, been many, MANY other occasions of things going sour for amorous couples and drug addicts, locals all. So why do we rent to locals still? Because, simply, the owner makes too much money off the county's trailer trash and the city's ghetto thugs. If that puts the desk clerks in danger, that's really too bad, because Jamar from the housing projects on 7th will pay $69.95 plus tax, and so will Lurleen from the Panorama Vista View Prospect Lookout Trailer Courte, and by God if someone will pay $69.95, plus tax, then you get them in here no matter what they do, how they plan to destroy the room, or how many times the cops get called out.
And I've had enough. If a local comes in, I'll rent to them if they don't look like obvious scum, but I'll be damned before I'll rent to them before I have to. When the owner gets back in April, we'll be forced to rent to every last local again, but when she's gone, I won't. In fact, in years past the manager of our other properties has forbidden us from renting to locals while the owner was out of town. Usually we'd have one big incident before she'd reach her breaking point and bar the locals, like the time that someone strung out on cough medicine threatened a desk clerk with a brick, then broke out the window in his room with that brick because he thought the people in the rooms next door were trying to dig through the walls and come get him. The broken second floor window would have been his escape route, you see.
At any rate, I don't care if you laid the foundations for this building yourself. If you're a local, stay home and boink and/or smoke your meth. Just leave me the hell out of it.
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