Another strangely busy week day night. These nights are not suppose to be hectic. I’m suppose to be able to come, do audit, then chill and watch netflix for a few hours. Last night we had a bunch of what I am going to term, “Dust Searchers.” A dust searcher is a guest who is just searching for something in the room to complain about.
The term is being coined after this wonderful guest who was the size of a baby elephant. I’m pretty sure the reason she is a bitch is because no one loves her, but that is no excuse to make my life suck. She calls the desk and is saying something about the room being dirty and how she’s had all sorts of problems and must speak to my manager, who was John. John told me he would be near housekeeping and to call him on his cell if anything dramatic happened. Oh, dramatic happened, it happened hard. That son of a bitch had his cell on vibrate. I called three times because I now have the rhinoceros in front of me and ready to charge at any given moment.
She is complaining how she can never get a good room at our hotel and something must be wrong with our housekeepers because this is just unacceptable and she stays in hotels 43 weeks out of the year. I really just wanted shoot her with an animal tranquilizer. This is my favorite quote though, said to John, via the blob like creature at the desk, “I can smell the dust.” That’s right, not see, but smell, so she apparently moved the bed to find it.
If your room is unclean, that is a reason to complain, but I hate to break this to the public, housekeepers in hotels do not move all of the furniture to clean every crevasse in the room. You dust searchers should stay in your homes and never go anywhere, because you’re a bunch of bitches.
John said to me later, “Yeah, I could smell the coke she was doing in the bathroom.” Oh John, she is too fat to be a coke head.
Now, the second dust searcher, I believe he had a real case of OCD. He just called down after a half an hour in the room and says, “I want to check out, the room isn’t clean enough.” Sir, is there something exactly wrong. “It just isn’t working out. I will pay a cancellation fee. I just can’t stay here.” You don’t have to pay if the room isn’t clean sir. Do you want us to find you another place to stay? “No, I just need to go.” So, that was weird. Wanted to pay and didn’t want to be relocated. Him leaving actually helped us out a lot though.
A night guy at the Marriott across the street really tried to fuck me in not a sexy way. He calls, “Can I walk a guest over to you?” No, we don’t have any rooms. “None at all?” Well, we have rooms with just one double in them, they’re our smallest and next to the elevator. “That will work, we’re going to walk them over.” Now, tell the guest it’s ONE bed. “Okay,we’re sending them over.” They over, they needs two beds. FUCK YOU MARRIOTT. Trying to make me look like the idiot, you’re the dumb fucks who overbooked, and we graciously said you could walk them over, but you lied to them and said we had a room with two doubles. So, we ended up giving them the OCD man’s room because it was a king with a sofa sleeper. They didn’t find anything wrong with the room, so I am assuming that OCD man had a phobia.
The audit went smoothly, so that was nice. Joyce Meyers Convention in town this week, so we’ve been gearing up for that. Should be interesting.