Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Lost: One set of Huxleys and eyeglasses
Saturday, May 22, 2010
When she starts asking questions though, I begin to realize that my subconscious desire to install her in the East Wing was right on the money.
She's on her way out the door and shoots back a parting question. You know, those questions in which something is asked casually that really should not be. They use their tone of voice to trick you into a lulled sense of security. You'll answer "yes!" and they will be out the door by the time you've had a chance to truly process the question.
Ms. Nord: Oh! One other thing: it's ok if the guide dog swims in the pool, right?
Now, notice how she phrases this question. The assumed positive. Think how I will sound trying to say (even nicely) "No, that's not alright." Exactly. Like a dragon.
please don't make me go in the water....??
Friday, May 21, 2010
"I'm so happy, thrilled in fact!" she has been reported as saying. "Now I get my very own sun at night!"
Although unsure exactly what she is referring too (concentration minimal, eyes glazed every time a question was put to her), we congratulate her and enclose her entry into the contest.
We present....The Golden Manatee Award
Check out lifeshighwaygame for details :)
(I think I hear something buzzing!!!)
Me: Ma'am, would you mind if someone went up now?
Miz B: Sure, it had better be fixed by the time I go to bed!
I spot Juan entering the lobby. "Juan," I say, "please escort Miz B up to her room, and see if you can locate the cause of the buzzing."
Off they go.
I get a call later from Juan. He's on the third floor checking to see if the room over hers was the source. No go.
I'm starting to think I'm going to have to change her room. Which I really don't want to do, considering the behavior I can see lurking below the surface of her casually draped scarf and coiffed silver hair.
A little later, I see Juan. I remember that I never heard if we will have to move her.
Me: Juan, what ever happened with Miz B?
Juan: (starts smiling) She'll be fine.
Me: What was the buzzing?
Juan: (starts laughing) I took apart the light, she was running around saying "Move this! You'd better find where that's coming from...don't make me move!" and generally being upset. I picked up her suitcase to move it and I said "Ma'am, your suitcase is buzzing." She grabbed it from me. Her face was all red and she tried to make me go out of the room, but I had to hook up the fridge and microwave again. She said it was her electric razor. She kept saying she was sorry.
Me: ??? (I didn't think women USED electric razors....anyone? I have my thoughts on what else it could have been, if you know what I mean....lol)
Juan: Yeah, and then she gets even redder and says "don't tell the lady at the front desk."
Me: (snicker) How could she think you wouldn't tell me?
Hahahaha...I mean really. Too funny. She'll probably try to avoid me for the rest of her stay, which will be difficult considering I'm on for the entirety :D
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Thus, her margarita was less than satisfactory.
Em says: "You should have brushed your teeth with a bottle of Jack"
Thank you, Ke$ha, for such real world advice on personal hygene and dental tips.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
We did not go for the dancing in the strictest sense. You see, we came to watch.
We walk in the door in our heels and skirts, hair pinned. While waiting to secure our first drink, Em is approached by German Man. Lets call him Mike. Mike is tall, and wearing jeans and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled casually. He recognizes her from a dance class.
And he wants to show her his moves.
Someone else (who apparently didn't see that little exchange) walks by, screeches to a halt and asks her.
Me, who like any intelligent people watcher, had packed a little pad of blue post-its in my purse, decided to keep count. Especially after the next man remembered her from one of her other jobs.
I was fascinated. Is this how the other half lives? Being constantly asked to the floor? All fine and good if you actually know how to salsa, I guess. Waltzing is more my thing.
We find a table against the wall, and the only chair left for me is the one with the back to the dance floor. Not Good. I swap, and immediately, Em is beset with her male swains. She was the prow of our metaphorical ship, and she got noticed first. Then Val, and, if they were desperate, me. After 5 more invitations, Em figured out what was happening and made me swap back. But by then, we'd already gone through everyone that was going to ask. (score!!)
I guess they figured that if the other two of the party said no, I wasn't going to satisfy them with a yes.
Then a girl walked by. You know the type. Tall, thin, white top, jean skirt. And tan. That tan that approaches, no, IS a kind of light burnt umber. Her salsa seemed to consist solely of wiggling her hips.
Which, I will admit, she did well.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
I get asked the usual "Are you a student?"
Me: Not right now!
Him: You should finish college...
Me: Oh, I'm going back to school in July. Court reporting...Maybe I'll see you there LOL
Him: Nope, I'm done with that. (completely serious) 27 times. Convictions, that is. I'm out of that now.
And then the convo continues to what exactly he was in for (violence related stuff, marijuana use) and when his first big C was...14...and on from there.
This now gives him the permission to call me "sweetie" whenever asking for anything else. Example: "Hey sweetie, can I get a book of matches?" (sure honey! and did you want your slippers warmed too?)
Because, you see, we've shared a moment.
Update: And then, as he's leaving to go to his room for the night....
"Thanks for everything..."
Um..for what? Those matches?
Friday, May 14, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
So I had just finished helping a man. I laughed at something he said (not that funny, but, you know, I have this job where I *get* to be nice to people). He turns back and says:
"If you were any cuter, I'd go on a search for the fountain of youth!"
I made some inane comment, b/c my brain hadn't quite processed it. He steps around the corner and says to his wife in a low voice "isn't she cute?" and then off they go.
I file it away. Then later, pulling it back up, I realized what he had meant.
Even at his advanced age, I think it would take more than the entirety of such a fountain to make it work...
Friday, May 7, 2010
Cougar: God, I need a drink
Greengirl: Hahaha...the bar is there!
Cougar goes over and parks her luggage against the wall, goes into bar and stands at corner behind the bar. Bartender ("Jack") kind of ignores her. She is the thorn in his side. She showers her affections on him, and he tries to escape.
It's kind of funny.
Cougar decides she doesn't want to stand, she wants to camp. Grabs a chair and cozies up. Jack still is busy pouring drinks for the people that got there first. I'm not sure if he's seen her.
With the chance to taunt a co-worker lingering in my mind, what happens next is just one of those things you can't control. After all, our previous conversation included his thoughts on her possible breast implants, and, to be delicate, if it had been cold, the results of the obvious sheerness of her shirt might have been excused.
Or probably not.
A woman came up to get change for the bar.
Her: A ten, five and five ones please
Me: Ok (counts) If I give you a little note for the bartender, could you give it to him?
Her: (leers) Got a little crush on him?
Me: (aaaaahnononono) HahahaNO. More like a friendly taunt...
She delivers it. He takes it. Looks over at us. (We are standing watching him) Opens it. Reads my "Hahahahaha. She's here!!"
He bursts into laughter, and the entire bar does as well. The kind of laughter that says they aren't really sure what they're laughing at, but that it must be funny. Reeeel funny.
He finally pays attention to her, she grabs two white wines. Starts to leave the bar, and realizes something. Something like...with both hands full of alky, she won't be able to do anything with her luggage.
Greengirl and I agree.
Cougar slurps one down and then wrestles her luggage one armed to her room. Returns shortly with JUST the white skimpy top on (no hot pink jacket, *problem* with top still apparent) and removes 2 RED wines from the bar. I guess she got quite a few, and then hid the extra glasses until she could claim them.
Jack came up later and said that when she had asked for 4, she said "Can't you just give me a bottle?" LOL.
Can't you just see it? "Thank you for staying at the Happy Hotel, here's your complimentary bottle of wine. Chardonnay, Syrah, or Rose?"
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Case in point:
Juan let me know (ever so nicely) that someone on the upper floor of our East Wing had removed the screen on their window and was frolicking and smoking on the balcony belonging exclusively to a suite.
I'm not sure if they were frolicking, but it makes me both happy and appalled (for the suite people), but still happy.
This could not go on, of course, so I called the room.
Me: Hi, it's Redgirl, from the front desk. I've had a report that someone removed the screen from your room and is smoking on the balcony.
Man: I didn't-wait a sec (I hear sounds that sound like....) My friend's throwing up, can I call you back?
Me: Oh yes, of course. (clicks phone down. looks up at window of room and gives a repulsed shudder)
Monday, May 3, 2010
Creepiness comes in 2 flavors. One is either creepy or a creeper. Being creepy is something you do. A creeper is something you are.
Let me expand.
Let's say you're sitting on a subway, hurtling through the bowels of some big city. (I've never been on a Subway, aside from eating their sandwiches and riding buses. That along with reading about subways makes me pretty near an expert, don't you agree? That's what I thought...)
You're standing by one of those post thingies, holding on for dear life because there aren't any seats available. All of the sudden, a hand that can only belong to the man behind you cops a feel through your gray tailored suit.
Ooowee!! That was creepy! We can therefore say that, in preforming a creepy act, that our man is creepy.
A creeper is different.
Same scenario: You're on the subway, seated this time, and you get a funny feeling. You look over to your left and see a man in a black coat and black felt hat. There's something off about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.
Maybe later you find out that he is a peeping tom, or that he steals and strokes ladies'....underthings....
But that is not why he's a creeper. Being a creeper is full time. A creeper is necessarily one who performs creepy acts. They can't help it. And it's not the act that tipped you off. You knew instinctively. (If your creep-o-meter isn't malfunctioning...check those batteries folks!)
More extremely rational theories later...
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Unlike my sister, Redgirl, who finds amusement in taking uncomfortable situations as far as they will go, I’m just annoyed and uncomfortable, which invariable leaves me feeling a bit angry (and did I mention annoyed?).
An an effort to show Redgirl how normal people react to inappropriate comeons I provide the following situation:
A couple of weeks ago, an unknown production employee left a note/letter in my office door expressing his wish to get to know me better, based on how beautiful he found my picture (I’m a member of management) that is posted in the break room.
Ohhhhh…..how interesting. Where’s my cell phone, I’m calling the number in this letter right now. Bonus points if I can get him to propose, offer to lick my feet, or offer to instruct me in the finer points of spooning in the first 15 minutes! I hope he’s an honest to goodness psychopath – better blog material!
It really pissed me off. Who thinks this is appropriate!!!!!????? Seriously. My first reaction was to send off a scathing “Dear John” letter (but of course I didn’t). Here’s how it would have read:
Dear John (not a real name!),
This is in response to the letter you left in my office door – although my boyfriend admires your courage in reaching out to an unknown member of management, I’m not as appreciative.
Pining after my image as published in the management picture, posted in the employee break room is not endearing – in fact it is kind of creepy. Is this how celebrities feel when a fan professes their love for them? Now, I may be overly sensitive as I have had 2 stalkers in the last 4 years, but I’m DONE with it.
I’m a bit angry that you thought that this was even appropriate. Just because I look 16 and chose to wear a cocktail dress at that particular management xmas party and smiled at the camera doesn’t mean I’m available, interested, intrigued, or even interested in an inappropriate management/hourly union employee relationship. I’m not even considering the employee relations, HR NIGHTMARES that comes of an exempt management employee dating a union hourly employee in the same facility.
I’m sure if you use some common sense and you will probably have better luck in your future romantic endeavors.
Does anyone else have this problem?????? This is the 4th time in 4 years I’ve gotten solicitations that I consider inappropriate – maybe I’m just old fashioned? Maybe I’m being a bit harsh, but I come to work to work, not fend off suitors. How could people even think this is appropriate???????? I’m much more tolerant of people who approach me verbally. A smile, and a simple no usually suffices and no one gets their feelings hurt. The letter for some reason really raises my hackles.
First off, remember that I never chase after these ppl like you say I do! The entire point is that I'm minding my own business, remember? Also, they're not uncomfortable. Remember artist man? And just imagine, *John* sitting in the breakfast room, gazing up at your picture, imagining you munching on twin stale breakfast burritos....
Ha ha ha
Me: Over there, on the second floor
Her: Are there stairs?
Fire regulations clearly state, Ma'am, that stairs are a necessary part of any structure over one story...
Woman takes out one of our bikes and helmet. She returns the bike, but not the helmet. We can't get hold of her. Finally, the next day, she comes to the front desk to take the bike out again.
Graygirl: Do you need a helmet Ma'am?
Ms. Doink: Oh no, I already have one
Graygirl: But you borrowed one last time...
Ms. Doink: Yes, I still have it. I knew I was taking the bike out again today.
Graygirl: We needed to have that for the people who used the bike after you...last night...
Ms. Doink: ...Oh!