Friday, April 23, 2010

More Life Lessons


The following should quench some thirst until I get my Big Party Weekend notes A) Found and B) Organized:

We'll start off with a few more life lessons with Redgirl. Since I know that all you are running to get pencil and paper for notes, I'll pause for a moment to allow for scurrying.

Ok.


Gather 'round...


First off:


Ginger, while the same color and beginning with the same letter as Garlic, does not taste the same. In fact, no matter how much you add, it still won't taste the same. Instead of having Savory Lamb with Basil Mushrooms, you will have Funky Tasting Lamb with Ruined Mushrooms. And it will be served with a side of Disappointed Taste Buds.


Next Lesson:

If you put a hood on it and it looks like Ted Kaczynski, don't let it in. Furthermore, green plastic bags should not be opened and rifled with unless the rifler is willing to deal with unsavory content.


Let me explain.


Weird old man with thick glasses and big bushy beard was a "walk in" on Sunday. He seemed agreeable, if odd and a bit verbose. I gave him a room. (Which wisely was NOT the Cursed Room...he didn't look harmless enough to take that chance) A few hours later, my maintenance guy (we'll call him "Juan") found a white plastic bag just inside our street entrance door. He brought it up and we both looked at it.


Similar to how you examine a purse for an ID, I felt we should examine the bag. (...and I'm reeelly nosey. This you know) Contents were:


Large bottle of unopened green antiseptic mouthwash

5 Energizer D Batteries (with no devisable thing to use them in)

Full roll of toilet paper, quilted

Green plastic bag with *literature* of some kind in it

A pea green towel (I don't know if it was clean, I wasn't about to sniff it...not THAT curious, folks)


Mystery remained though.


The Green Bag.


As you've probably guessed, it contained things of an adult nature, with an emphasis on young, ethnic, and pierced.


But moving on.


I caught a glimpse that will be seared in my brain for some time, and then Juan and I tied that entire thing up tight. Then we pulled out the hand sanitizer. Then the Lysol wipes for the counter.


I told Juan "I think I know whose it is, I expect him within the hour."


Sure enough, like leopard returning to drag its half eaten bushbuck to a better location, he came back. "I...uh...left a bag by that door over there..." Me: "One moment sir!"


At least, I consoled myself, he was only staying for one night.


Or so I thought.


This all happened Sunday. When I came in for work on Wednesday, I was met by my boss. The first words out of his mouth "Why did you let crazy people in??" followed by "Everyone here hates you right now" and "We thought he was your uncle, because that's the only way we figured you let him in" as well as other things I don't think I'll repeat.


Apparently, he approached everyone and asked if they were a guest or they worked here. (EVERYone) He inquired about the glasses in the room, a la Pen Girl. He terrorized our poor omelet maker so that she couldn't stay at her station. He repeatedly turned up radios and tvs to the point where someone had to go to his room and knock on his door. He proceeded to yell every vulgar and obscene thing in the book through the door. (and the guy who reported that part is probably listed as a contributing author on that book, so he would know)


My response was that maybe I had let him in, but they didn't have to let him stay. (for three days! Three days people!)


Then my boss gifted me with the Ted Kaczynski blurb, which I will keep in my repertoire and use in any situation that remotely calls for it.



Lesson Three:


If a guest reports to you in a jittery and twitchy manner that he's 46 days (exactly) clean from a drug that "makes lines of coke look like sissy stuff", try to avoid prolonged conversation with them. Especially if upon receiving Advil, they tell you they can't swallow pills and find an area to bend over backwards far enough that the pill can drop down their gullet with no help of a swallowing mechanism.


Lesson Four:


If you're a narcissistic boor with the hotel staff, don't expect any real consolation or sympathy when you lose not only your room key, but your government issued phone. If you see a concerned expression, they are probably laughing themselves silly inside. (They also can't wait to tell the rest of the staff)


Lesson Five:


Always make the reservation beFORE you play the squeaky wheel game. Example: I received an email from a woman who could only find Standard King rates online, but no upgraded ones. She also wanted to know special rates for "June Pride Month" (?). Upon inspection of our schedule, I saw we were completely booked for something unrelated. I checked with my boss, and he hopped online and closed the dates out.

Him: Now you can tell her...whatever you want really"

Me: *Evil laughter*


So I email her that she is welcome to make the reservation (knowing full well she can't), and to feel free to call or email that she wants the upgraded room and I would do it...for no cost!


The first part is understandable...to explain that even though there were rooms last time she checked..but there won't be any now is a big difficult, but the latter half was probably a tad gleeful. But see! I was willing to upgrade her! That should make her happy...


Lesson Six:


If you're planning to attend a large event, such as a four year college's graduation, don't call at the last minute and expect to get reservations. I can feel for the people that didn't know there was even a college in town, but the people that are actually coming for the graduation make me a little agog.


Really. Think about the number of people graduating. Their families will have to stay somewhere. Calling anything less than five months ahead means your chance of getting a hotel in a 15 mile radius is less than your spawns chances of getting into the university in the first place. Yeah, so good luck with that.


I've rambled on enough. Mrs. Chatterbox should probably have her own post...

4 comments:

Andrew said...

So I learned the hard way not to overuse ginger. Concentrating lots of it into a ginger butter sauce is a little much. Especially on trout, where the fish just gets overwhelmed by the mouthful-of-nettles sensation from the ginger...

lifeshighway said...

So many lessons to be learned. I had to go back and study.

Lesson 1: I detest ginger, I only feel pain for you and you lamb dish.

Lesson 2: Never open bags or articles of unsavory nature. I once found sex toys in the ladies bathroom of my office. Well to be precise the office manager found them came and got me and ask me to identify what those things were. I went and identified them and was scarred FOR LIFE. Now I will always wonder whose they were and why they had to be cleaned in our bathroom. I hid them in a cabinet and waited for someone to claim them. Checked my trap the next day and they were gone. The mystery remains.

Lessons 3-6: Hotel staff have no pity and they will play with your head from their own amusement. Obviously I chose the wrong career.

redgirl said...

Andrew: I think I remember you telling me about that poor sauce. I decided the world at large needed some warning as well :P

Lifeshighway: What would have been REALLY fun would be to superglue the bag to the bottom of the cabinet; leaving the person with options including:
1) looking incontinent as they hit the bathroom with a bag 5 minutes later
2) trying to stick them in a pocket or purse one by one
3) Brazenly carrying them out in plain view...afterall, what's a strong libido to be ashamed of?

Lessons 3-6: Yes we will, and yes you did

Jenna Lynn said...

Yay for the new post!! :) Thank you, I needed this today! :)
I don't know how to cook at all so thanks for the pointer :)