..or not

I'm checking a guy in who is part of the set up crew for a bike function.

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?

Say What??

You know when someone says something, and you don't quite understand it? But you kind of want them to think you did so they will leave more quickly?

Yeah.

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...

Guest Blog: A Dear John Letter

A guest post from my sister Mel. She has a great horsey blog, and she's slowly learning how to be humorous (on purpose)! Give her encouragement by taking a look. And now:


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.

Redgirl’s reaction:

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!

Mel’s reaction

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.

Sincerely.


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.


From Redgirl:

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

Onward Into the Fray

Hotel full tonight with a combo of a Finnish Choir (try pronouncing anything it that language) and (I think) Ultimate Frisbee competitors.

"Ultimate" competitors rather. Frisbee got upset at the "copyright violation".

Last year, it was bad. Writhing masses of people screaming and yelling and getting drunk and falling into the pool and throwing up (and making lots of noise). This year? Better, in that all these things happened at about an 8 rather than a 10.

Point is; it's loud, but we keep an eye on it. When it gets to a certain time, or we feel it has gone out of control, we shoo them out. At that point, they're usually so drunk that they docilely respond like sheep and tromple off in a shambling herd to the streets in search of more booze, pizza, and booze.

This year, we did drink tickets. This altered the mood sufficiently that Miss. I Love Tequila Sunrises found her way to the bathroom beFORE fertilizing the potted palm.

Mr. I'm Not Staying At the Hotel came to buy drink tickets and attempted to chat me up.

Or rather, he did chat me up. The fact that I didn't buy into it did not mean that he did the deed.

It started with the clique:

Dude: "Redgirl? What a nice name..."

Me: (smiles)

Dude: (more inane stuff) "So...when do you get off?"

Me: "Eleven" (knows that by the time 11 hits, he'll be well on his way to being drunk and won't know Christopher Eccleston from David Tennant)

Dude: (knows this too, but still trying to be coy) "Aah, but the real question is, what are you doing for Easter?" (tomorrow)

Me: (sad, fake smile) "Working..."

What did he think I was going to say?

"Gosh golly! I'm off! We should, like, TOTally do something! What's your name, by the way? We could, you know, hunt eggs or something together *wink*"

(and I'm going to stop there, b/c you know I could take that too far for a reasonably PG-13 rated blog...)

Probably another post tonight; I just *know* this won't end quietly...

The Return of Spoon Man: A Short Story

If you need refreshing about Spoon Man, go here and here.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. Her name was Redgirl, and she worked at a hotel. Redgirl had figured out through experience to mind her own business, but this was through rueful incidents of the sort that a person might consume flies that enter a mouth left ajar for too long.

She always sought to put them behind her, but with one guest, this was difficult.

For, you see, Spoon Man kept coming back.

Much like the infamous "Cat in the Hat", Spoon Man always came back. May hap not the very next day, but he certainly wouldn't stay away. Could it have been her girlish charms? Redgirl didn't know, but if she had reasonable belief in that regard, she would have dragged a dull steak knife dipped in acid across each blushing cheek.

As it happened, Redgirl would check the list of reservations coming in for any sign of Spoon Man. She would type in "Man, Spoon", and would be relieved each time when nothing would pop up. Unfortunately, the reason for this was that Spoon Man didn't usually make a reservation ahead of time. He just roared in on his smokin' motorcycle (which he knew Redgirl admired and thought made him look like a stud) and walked in with the words "Do you have any rooms available for tonight?"

One fateful Friday afternoon, the hotel was almost full. Redgirl was working with her coworker, Greengirl. People were checking in right and left; they were very busy. All of the sudden out of the corner of her very perceptive eyes, Redgirl caught sight of a figure....the figure of Spoon Man!!

She grabbed the next guest almost physically to help them, leaving Greengirl at his mercy.

Redgirl had told Greengirl of the man and his wily, spooning ways, but realized now that she had neglected to tell her the real-world name. Luckily, several other guests came in, so Redgirl was able to stay very busy-looking. Greengirl seemed to take her time checking Spoon Man in, and Redgirl's dearest hope was that her line would continue to stay long until Spoon Man was safely checked in....hopefully to the Annex Wing.

Redgirl kept getting the chills. The reason? Spoon Man kept looking at her. Except when he needed to look at Greengirl for basic politeness's sake or to sign paperwork, he kept looking at our poor heroine. Redgirl was careful not to make eye contact, but he kept looking at her. Finally, she heard Greengirl give him a room...in the main building. She wasn't happy, but maybe he would go away now.

Redgirl did chortle silently to herself that the suite he normally liked to get when he came was unavailable. Ha! she thought, take THAT man who just walks in! Try making a reservation next time!

It was almost as if Spoon Man could hear Redgirl's thoughts. He asked Greengirl if she could make him a reservation for a specific room. Greengirl was a little new, so Redgirl kept an ear out. When Spoon Man mentioned the room number, Greengirl seemed unsure, but Redgirl knew what he was talking about. He wanted to reserve "his" suite for a certain night.

Halloween night.

She clarified to Greengirl what room he wanted, carefully avoiding eye contact with Spoon Man. She could not help but call to mind last year's Halloween, when Spoon Man had appeared with feathers, face paint, and an inadmissible apology.

Unfortunately, if the miner won't go to the mine, the mine is gonna come and get the miner. Or, to clarify, if Redgirl wouldn't notice Spoon Man, Spoon Man was going to make her.

"Hi Redgirl, how are you?" Spoon Man said, with enough volume to avoid being ignored.

Redgirl didn't falter, but it was a close thing. She was with another guest, but knew that in such a social situation, a direct look was called for, as well as the niceties of inane greetings. "Doing pretty good...you?" she replied, carefully keeping her eyes from batting alluringly in his direction. She flashed a practiced smile.

He was still staring at her, his eyes seeming to bore into her very soul. "Good."

Redgirl gave him a small smile and nodded. This was in effort to show that yes, she was glad that he was doing well. Even though secretly, she was hoping he would get hit by a lumber lorry as soon as he left and die a slow, painful, squished-to death. Was that too strong? She pondered, "No," she thought to herself, "That's about right. And then dump some acid on him too. That should do it."

As he walked away (could that be? swaying his hips seductively? No. Please no.), Redgirl hissed over to Greengirl, "What room did you give him?"

Greengirl gave the number of a nice quiet room on the third floor that Redgirl was holding back for any guests that specifically asked for something quiet. Curses!!! But the damage was done, Redgirl knew she would just have to live with it.

Redgirl turned to Greengirl. "Greengirl....that was Spoon Man."

Greengirl looked horrified. "He was creepy. And old!"

"I know." Redgirl gave a little shiver. "Did you see how he kept staring at me? Ugg."

She nodded and curled her lip in disgust. "Yeah...that was just wrong."

Redgirl sighed. "And because you put him in the main building, we'll get to see him anytime he goes anywhere."

Most guests, Redgirl didn't mind seeing go back and forth across her lobby. The Scottish people with lovely accents...check. The handsome men's soccer team in their cute manly jerseys...check. That nice young lawyer from the south without a wedding ring...check check. Spoon Man?

Uh...not so much.

Redgirl saw him twice more that evening, once by himself, and once with a from-a-box-redhead draped over his arm. Which he then introduced to Redgirl with a twinkle in his eye. It wasn't great, but at least it wasn't the elderly man and his young "personal assistant". Plus, the months hadn't been kind to Spoon Man. His hair had thinned, and he had gained quite a bit of weight.

Redgirl knew she should feel sorry for a man trying so hard to hang on to his youth, slip through his fingers though it may.

But she didn't.

She couldn't.

Once a Spoon Man, always a Spoon Man.

No going back. No second chances.

Redgirl grimly circled the 31st on her calendar. She would be ready.

Hehehehe. Heh. Well, if he does anything tomorrow, I'll let y'all know....

I was chatting with one of the owner's sons and told him the story. He laughed and pointed to me and said it was because I was wearing such revealing clothing and it was driving Spoon Man to distraction. I wear black dress pants, a men's white collared long sleeve shirt, a tie, and a black vest. Oh. And black shoes. I responded that perhaps the neckline was too low....and I should talk to my boss about turtlenecks. Gack!

Stuff

Today's post is brought to you courtesy of J.R., who has "encouraged" me to update, and update soon. Also from a certain sister who swore my last post sounded like I was going to go and hang myself in a tiny dark room.





I agonized over the title to this post.



Contenders were the following:


"It's Not My Fault You Don't Know How to Read a Map"



"I Know Everything, Try Me"


"Fig Jam" (translation for this phrase to be found later in post)


"U Draw Gud"


"Foreign Folk"


"Gimme, Lazy Office Worker"






Maybe these shall be chapters!!! (yay) So, without further ado....







Chapter 1: U Draw Gud


I was bar tending one particular night, the night following the request of "stout" by certain unsuspecting parties. I had poured a total of 10 drinks in 2 hours...a man had 2 Fat Tyres, his wife 2 Merlots and 1 water, another Man 2 Fat Tyres, his son, 2 Cokes, and a random guy, a Coke. Total tips? <>Him: You draw really good

Me: uh...thanks....

Him: How old are you?

Me: Guess

Him: 20!

Me: Hint, you have to be 21 to serve alcohol

(blah blah...he turned out to be 12. TWELVE. geeze...)

His dad gets a call, son clamors to talk to person before father hangs up.

Him: Frankie....wuts UUUUPPP!" (like...stage version. little poser. )

He proceeds to talk about hunting and deer tags. Dad comments to me "Maybe I should just leave him with you"

Me: I could easily file that under "Valet Charges" and post it to your room.

Dad drags reluctant son from bar.

Chapter 2: Foreign Folk

The Inn has a new foreign contingent! Please make welcome....Teeeeaaamm....Egypt!!

It's not all pyramids and fun though, folks. On becoming aware of the new contenders for creepy, I asked my male co-worker if I needed to be on my guard. He replied "not at all...they are very nice and won't bother you at all." I only mention he was male because it either seems that females always get the short end of the foreign stick, or that his Creep-O-meter was really low on batteries. (Stay tuned for the post entitled: Creep-O-Meters: how to know when YOU need to upgrade!!) Current fixation? Wanting to use the computer we have to chat with family members over in Egypt.

This wouldn't be TOO dreadful, except that, as non-English (very much) speakers, I am thinking our keyboard baffles them. This is the only way I can account for the 5 WPM speed with which they seem to type. Which is sad for those who are trying to print boarding passes :(

Forget people needing the computer....it's just sad all around. Even more saddening? Accuracy is prob at around 3.5 WPM. Updates to come, I guarantee.

Chapter 3: Fig Jam

Oooookay. Those with strong frailness of ears, skip to the next chapter. This phrase given lovingly to me by some extremely lovely Aussies that stayed for one of those 750 mile bike rides (completed in 90 hours). Yup, crazy to the extend of my dear sister, mentioned in the prologue. Anyway. They were describing a certain member of the riding collective, and said (cue accent!) "He's quite Fig Jam".

Me, as usual, wanting to know everything asks "What's Fig Jam?"

Answer?

F*** I'm Good Just Ask Me.

Ha.

Hahahahaha.

One of those things that sticks in your mind...a delightful little insult, though rarely used.

Chapter 4: It's Not My Fault You Don't Know How to Read a Map

As described. Seriously. If I say "turn left at F street" and then you turn right, don't proceed to blame it on me.

Chapter 5: I Know Everything, Try Me

It's surprising the amount of things that a hotel desk clerk is "supposed" to know. Some things perhaps I should. Some things, I can look up. But other things? Really?

See if you can label some of the following:

1) Where is a good place to eat around here?

2) Do you know if "Discoveries" is still an open business in town?

3) Is a trip to Tahoe or Yosemite more worth while?

4) What's there to do/a good place to eat in Sacramento? (hint: hotel is NOT in Sacramento, not even in one of the outlying areas)

5) Where do the girls go?

6) How early should I get to the airport?

7) How crowded will the airport be at 5:30 tomorrow morning?

8) How long will it take to get through customs? (the airport in question is not really local...don't know why I should know...)

9) What classes should my daughter take at (local university)?

10) What apartments are good in town for my son?

11) Any good bars around here? (see Tips From RedGirl on this subject)

12) Where can I find a furniture store?

Chapter 6: Gimme, Lazy Office Worker

I volunteer at a homeless shelter. When people want to make appointment to pick up food at the food closet, they have to call same-day for an apt. For some reason, I was just jotting down all the calls that came in one particular day. I probably made seven of these, on the paper pad, just noting down the name, what they had called for, and if they had gotten an apt and what time. Also present were various doodles of food items. (potatoes, live chickens, pears, etc) Almost before then end of my shift, I get a call from someone at the closet. Someone had misplaced their list, so they needed the info again. Usually, the apts are scattered in the files under the name of the client....in a series of over 40 binders. Once we make the apts, we don't keep track. There's no reason we should have to. In a demanding tone...tell us, Jeanie!

Jeanie: I need all the food appointments you made today.

Me: ALL of them?

Jeanie: Yes, all of them. Did you make one for 1:30?

Me: Yes, for John Smith

Jeanie: How many people?

Me: Let me pull the file. (2 adults, 2 children)

Jeanie: Next?

Me: One at 1:45

Jeanie: What??!! Who made that? That's awfully close together!!

Me: Well, that was the time we were given (eg, not my fault lady)

Jeanie: And for 2pm??

Me: We didn't make one for 2pm

Jeanie: Well SOMEone did!!

Me: possible another agency...? My next one is at 2:45...

Jeanie: Who was it! How many people?!

Me: One moment (goes to pull file)

Jeanie: (yells) I NEED this inforMAtion!

Me: Ma'am, I am currently retrieving the information (recall my automatic habit of using words with more syllables when confronted to give myself more time to think)

I understand. She was stressed because one of her people made a mistake.

But fie!

I will not take that sitting down!

Next time I shall stand up when I talk to her. And then we shall see the difference!

Hmmm...Talk about a long random post. Just b/c something has chapters doesn't mean the plot makes sense. That's for all the novelists out there :P

Relationships

Being nice is my job.
I thought I'd start out with this to clear up any misunderstandings.
I'm a hermit by nature, but when in a public situation? I become my public persona. I smile, I make small talk, joke and laugh. Who knows if this is the person I will eventually morph into, but for now, it's not me. It's what I switch on for work.
And as with any light, sometimes you forget to hit the switch when you leave the room.
The light stays burning and any number of this can happen. Wasted electricity? Check. Drapes caught on fire by wayward candle? Check. Live wiring coming into contact with water that electrifies the entire wet floor and fries person who steps in it with non rubber-soled shoe? Check.
At heart, I'm a nice person, and treat various people with kindness and smiles, because that seems like the right thing to do.
Toss all this in a blender, add ice, vodka, cucumber, and a squeeze of lime and the following occurs:

I went by a certain drugstore no longer to be known as Longs to purchase a bottle of scotch (don't ask) and this employee there whom I had seen every now and then when I went was there. He's probably around 35/40 (I'm horrible at ages) rather short African American man. I only say short because I'm pretty short, and he was around my height.
Because I get off work at 11pm, it means that I like to go shopping on my way home....around midnight. I was going to check out with one employee, but there was a problem with the register, and rather than fix it, my "special friend" with much good cheer checked me out himself at a different one.
Attend to the following convo:

Him: You gonna drink that all by yourself?
Me: (taken aback by question...huh?)...I intend it to take a week or so....
Him: Hahahaha....

Then I headed over to the neighboring supermarket to get a few things. On my way back to my transportation in front of the business no longer to be known as Longs, the man from earlier is (apparently) on a smoke break and approaches me.
Aaaaaaaand....hit it!
Him: Hey....I was wondering...
Me: Hi....?
Him: Well, if you wanted to go out sometime.
Me: (mouth metaphorically drops open)
Him: Or just hang out...
Me: Um...I'm really busy with work...you know, getting up at 7am, having to to bed at 1am...don't' really have time for anything....extracurricular...you know...
Him: I totally understand, but if you change your mind....?
Me: (weak smile) I know where to find you!

Ok.

I'm one of those people who...
http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/post_office_showdown.png
yeah. that. but in every way.
Like, when when I meet anybody, I analyze what could happen and how I would respond in every sense of the word. I now draw your attention to the commercial from Target to explain:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwwYU03tGhQ
In case you can't watch it, or haven't seen it, it's the one where the band members pop out of the wallpaper and you're all "Whaaaa---OH! It's a person!!"
Ie, this guy was wallpaper to me...He didn't even appear in my "what if" mind set. Not only that, it was totally inappropriate for him to approach me in that manner...on the clock...and all.

I came out of this with several feelings--tell me if I'm wrong:
He asked me while on the clock...inappropriate. Now I no longer want to shop there in case I run into him.
Are people so "un-nice" to the average person that when someone IS nice, then they think the person is interested? I never "flirted" with the man, I was just nice...like I am to everyone at work. Was he just so unused to someone being nice to him that he misread the intention?

To move on though:

There was this guy....(hey, I warned you this would be on relationships)
There was a guy at the hotel who was friends with the bartender. As he was loitering in the lobby while bartender-man clocked out, I made small talk. At that point I realized that he wasn't a guest, but just a friend. He made a point to say my name and that it was a "really special name" and then when he left, I got this;

"You have a wonderful name, don't let anyone tell you different"

Huh??!!

I wasn't aware that I had a problem with it.
I like my name.
I never intended on feeling bad about it.

I will never understand men.

Paint Me Dead in a Gutter

So there I was, absoLUTely minding my own business, and this guy, probably 40's drifts over and we strike up a conversation. He asks me about possible good places to go at night, and I tell him one that I thought he might like, after my assessment of him, incidentally MY favorite place.

Tip from Redgirl #1

Never, and I mean never give out the name of your place to go out the same night as you might want to go out. Otherwise you might (a) meet them there unintentionally or (b) if you tell them you aren't going out and you go, they might see you (awk--ward)

So we're chatting, and he makes a comment about me looking tired, and I throw out my crazy schedule (getting up at 7am, working straight 'till 11pm, home around 12/1ish). I add in the comment about always having to go straight home to get the most sleep possible. Then I say

"So what are YOUR plans for the evening?"

(him) "Well, none...since you're not out"

Then, he notices the book I was reading and we start to talk about different literary authors. I had seen where he was heading with that, but I was infinity curious to see where the conversation would go.

Tip from Redgirl #2

Rather, advice from my co-worker that I shall now pass on to you. "Redgirl, you've got to stop extending the conversation. One day, it's going to get you in trouble" This is true. Sometimes, you've got to know when to stop--don't let curiousity get the better of you...unless, that is, you're ME, chasing a possible juicy story :>)

Finally, he says "Have you ever been a model?"

Me : (very matter-of-factly) "Nope, though my mother and I took a drawing class together, where everyone sketched the class. I enjoyed drawing hands" (ha...and may hap we've nipped THAT in the keester!)

Him: "I'm surprised...you have the qualities in a figure that artists like to draw" (.....or not)

Me: "Hmm...that's interesting" (in a creepy sort of way!)

Him: "I was wondering...well, I don't know if you're allowed..." (insert about minute long nattering about the basic sum-up of: "Would you be able to pose for me?"

Me: (urp??) "You're right, the hotel wouldn't like it...sorry"

Tip From Redgirl #3

When dashing a creepo's (or any one's for that matter) hopes and dreams, find a way to agree with part of a statement they made to cite in your refusal. It makes it easier when they stab themselves in the foot like our friend here.

Him: "Or, just a quick portrait, like only 10 minutes...we wouldn't have to do it in my room if that's the problem"

Now imagine about 5 more minutes of him trying to convince me. During this time, *I* am inserting comments like "I don't think that would work", "Yeah, they wouldn't like that", and "uh huh, it's too bad". Just like when people are talking to you and you really aren't listening, so you use fillers like "uh huh...mmm....really?....aah.....you don't say!" and etc.

Tip from Redgirl #4

Don't go with strange men who promise they can make you famous if you just come for a little photo shoot in their "studio". I know my dude was an artist, but I'm going to extrapolate. He didn't really have the "sleazy photographer vibe", but the "draw you" line? Plz.

So...he kinda wound down, gave me his website to check, wedding ring flashing in our chandelier lighting, wishing that he would be staying longer than one day. (he would have to do all the wishing on that one). The website was....interesting...to say the least. Yes, of course I went! You should know me by now...

I'm sure there are thousands of women who are made lucratively famous by grease-slicked agents they meet in train stations fresh from the farm, but we only ever hear about the ones that end up raped and bleeding their jugular vein into a grimy gutter. Why take the chance?

How Suite it IZ to be Loved by U!

Have you ever noticed how amusing people can be who are not in full control of their faculties? The girl at the nightclub who tries to hit on the manager (like that's never happened to him before) and then proceeds to give her (female) friend an extremely unenticing lap dance to, perhaps, show him what was on the market. Oh, and did I mention she was roughly 3.57 sizes to big for her dress? Hmm, I guess I just did.

Then there's the the tall 50-something construction worker who, after asking "where do the girls go?" and taking my hand say earnestly "If I don't remember this night.....thank you." He didn't.

We have "Spoon Man" who asked me in succession if:

A) I wanted to come up and hang out after my shift

B) We could sleep together

C) "Or we could spoon"

When he came back to apologize, I neglected to mention that the story had sustained the entire hotel management staff with laughter for over a week after refusing to have him banned because he was "too amusing". It was just the topping on the cake that when he came back to apologize I got this from my 63 year old swain:

"Alcohol was involved...you probably realized....but you're such an attractive person, I really couldn't help myself!" Um. Apology entirely negated now...

Now. On to current dude. Current dude is a gin-and-tonic kind of guy. How do I know? Well, he ordered no less than one every fifteen minutes for two hours in the bar. (for you non-math majors out there, that makes 8 gently mixed alcoholic beverages) G&T man and his friend came to the front desk to chat. The friend needed to check on something in a local business where he worked, but G&T man said he would follow him in a few. I was asked by friend if I didn't want him to take G&T man with him.

Me: Nah, you can leave him...he's amusing

G&T: She thinks I'm cute!

Me: *smiles shark grin and thinks "you poor drunk boy"*

So, after being asked if I would like to participate in a variety of activities that would no doubt get me fired, let alone excommunicated from my church, I tested my eel-like abilities to slither away from anything specific. In example:

G&T: We could ***********. I would love to take you and ************ and then we could **********.

Me: That's not possible. I'm not available for that.

G&T: But **********************!

Me: I'm sorry...that's not going to happen. (making conversation) Do you work?

G&T: Do you want me to work? 'cause I can work......

Me: INteresting.....

G&T: You should call me (gives me his number)

The friend eventually comes back and tows him away. As I'm checking a lady in, he plasters himself against the glass wall and shouts "I LOVE YOU!" in the drawl of the indisputably inebriated, the dreamily drunk.

As for points? Does it still count if the professor of love was tipsy? Who cares????

I am LOOOOOVVVVEEED!!!!!!!!

**cough**

**smirk**

**helpless giggles on floor of back room**

One Unwanted Guest With a Side of Sliminess, Please?

I am not a prejudiced person.

In fact, I rarely have a problem with anyone on a basic level. That is, of course until I met the guest of room "A".

To put things in perspective, my hotel gets a number of world travels for whom English is more like the third or fourth language. Social norms may be different, leading perhaps to the following instances:

An Afghani, traveling with a group of other Afghanis would approach strange women in the bar and the following would take place.

Him: You are my seester. You come to my room. Room 999.

Her: I'm not your sister, and I'm not going to your room!

Him: (insistent) You are my SEESter. You come to my room! Room 999. (and so on)

A Macedonian Group came to stay. I was offered fervently on multiple occasions the chance to get in on some feet lickin' action. Yup, one of the *gentlemen* made it clear to me 5 or 6 times that he would be happy to perform the service. Now, I googled this...didn't get too far....and then figured I probably didn't want to know.

Current man is part of a group from Iraq. At first he seemed nice, but....began asking such scintillating questions as "How old are you? Are you married? How is your education? You eat much?" I chose not to hear the last question, and tossed it off. Discussing the matter later with a co-worker, I found that he had been, if possible, worse; calling her ignorant--among other things. (probably b/c she wouldn't go along with his conversation)

So there we are, sitting there, having just both mentioned that we don't like him. He comes up and says "You both eat lots together?". I choose to misinterpret: "Yes, we work together". Him: No! No. You both eat lots..get big, BIG! Big is goooood" (now picture accompanying arm gestures) Me: (mouth agape) I'm not comfortable discussing this with you. Him: You eat lots? You get big? Me: I don't want to talk about this with you. Him: (starts to ask AGAIN) Coworker: (breaks in) She doesn't want to talk about it. Don't ask her again.

He was subsequently warned from speaking to anybody on anything other than pertinent business...especially after he tried the deal out on one of the managers. Problem. He's going to be here for awhile, and thinks that just because I'm not actively frowning at him and have to respond to his "hello-how-are-you" greetings (part of my job) that we are all happy friends. Thus, he is entitled to ask me for help on his personals site he has just signed up for and now spends hours on (no kidding, current clocked time is 3 hours). He is also entitled to ask me for help on the laptop he's borrowing that has a virus scanner program that won't. go. away.

I wonder why no one else in his group wants to help him? Oh wait. No I don't. I think I know perfectly well.