Two days ago I had to spend some time at a different location because, in our business, we get time and a half if we work any besides our own hotel. Which will make me a major “balla” when that paycheck comes around. It was an experience though.
The hotel I went to was way more swank than mine. The uniform I wear is this blue button down that would make a size 2 look like a size 12, and I’m a bigger girl, so it makes me look like the creature from the blue lagoon (blue because it’s a blue shirt, get it?), and then some black pants and some black shoes (I’ve opted for the black Velcro strap version, http://www.dsw.com/shoe/grasshoppers+stretch+plus+sport+oxford?prodId=173548&productRef=SEARCH.) This hotel wears vest, tie, white button down, it’s the Hilton over there.
Their lobby is amazing. Has a convenience store, several rooms, a DOME. We have a couch, couple chairs, and a TV. Our “business center” which consists of two computers with printers is even in the lobby. They have a whole room for theirs. Lobby aside, our location is better and our rates are lower. I had lived my life in a trailer park and was for the first time seeing a castle, walking in going, “Hello all! I know the invitation said formal, but I decided to go for grunge.”
I walk into the lobby and their front desk person is rushing to go and even though I tell her I have never worked there before, doesn’t really bother with much of an explanation on of things. I needed explaining! Tell me how things are done, I don’t know! Tell me where everything is! Nope, she left. I’m hanging out, thinking, Okay, I have this, I can do this.
First glitch. I don’t know where a check list is. A Night Audit check list is very vital to the job. It says every step you need to do and then you turn with your night audit. I found two pages of the master. When I called the manager, Mica, she tells me, “Oh, that’s on my computer. You can’t get it. You have to have your property fax you a copy.” Well, that’s dumb. So, do that, okay, whatever.
Second glitch. I don’t have a WebVu access code for this property. Webvu is what gets all of the credit cards sent to the bank. I call Mica, she tells me I have to call the IT line. I call. They don’t answer. I call again. They don’t answer. I leave very irate messages. They don’t respond. Then magically, the report prints. I feel, they could have called to tell me they were doing that.
Third, and most awful, irritating, fuck off glitch. The last front person, says, “Oh you just don’t have smoking rooms. Not a big deal. ” Bitch didn’t mention the last reservation was a smoking room. The guests come in, right at one o’clock, when night audit should start. “We’re here for our reservation.” I see you have a smoking room, we are currently out, do you mind moving to non-smoking? “We reserved smoking. We want smoking. It will not do to have non-smoking.” (Apparently this guy must have been a chain smoker. His lungs must look like the inside of fucking penguin. (There’s no light in there because it’s the inside of something. No lamps in penguins. (Yes, I did the parenthesis’s thing now three times.)))
I call around, try to find another room. Not working for me, everywhere is booked. Then, a light at the end of the tunnel, one hotel just canceled a smoking king! YES! Success! Let’s walk them over! Wait, I can’t find the walk forms! They won’t take them with out the forms! SON….OF…A….BITCH! I call Mica. No answer. I call Mica. No answer. I call Kyle (another manager). No answer. I call Mica. No answer. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Just when I write a note saying it’s okay to take this couple without a form, MICA CALLS! The solution: Give them a room on Floor 5 and hand them an ashtray. Are you fucking serious? So….LIVID!
After that whole mess, things are quiet. I have a friend bring me taco bell, that’s neat. This old man, who is loopy as hell keeps wandering around. He’s so silly he pays a cab driver just to drive him and his dog around St. Louis for three hours.
The most interesting person I met all night/early in the morning was this random guy sitting in the lobby. I had handled a couple of guys who wanted a room with a jacuzzi and were also very flamboyantly gay,very well. See, the two young men really just wanted to use our restroom, and being as I just didn’t care at that point, I just made small talk. Anyway, the cool guy comes over and is complimenting me on my customer service, he says it is the best he’s ever even seen. This is the gentlest looking man ever. Looks like a healthy Santa Claus. So, we start talking and it turns out, not only does he teach people to fix elevators (strange), but he analyzes handwriting!
He has me write a sentence, then again in cursive, then the word “poly wag.” From this he says that I want to be understood and it drives me insane when it doesn’t happen. He tells this because I first wrote in print, very block letters. Second, from my O’s he says I am affected by people’s moods. When someone is sad or mad, I am like that, but not open to letting people see me for me. Which is true. Then, people with a certain end on their cursive letters make good mothers. I don’t really want to test that one out though. He also says, if I become a college professor, I won’t be able to help getting involved in my students life. He told me I am a social chameleon and that I change to whatever surrounds me. That’s why I have to be very careful who is around me because I will become like that. Truth. Also, I have the feeling that I never quite fit in with anyone I am with, and while they accept me as one of them, I know I’m not. Truth! Then he said I am a somnambulist, something only 5% of people in the world truly are. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/somnambulism. I”m a sleepwalker/talker. Truth! He knew so much about me from my handwriting, kind of creeps me out.
When I went back to my property, needless to say, I did not have a high opinion of that one.
I also had one of my first conversations with a resident at our hotel recently. He lives in the hotel and is a very mysterious figure. Where’s the same outfit every day, gym shorts and a plain colored t-shirt, and just wanders around the hotel. He came up to me and asked what the weather thing said on it under a certain day, and it was a symbol for Yom Kippur. We were both like, doesn’t that happen around December? So began the conversation.
Things I found out:
1: His father was an independent business man. Was his wealth the reason our resident now can live in hotels?
2: He traveled around as child, due to his father’s business. Is that the reason for the affinity for hotels?
3: He’s from Hamburg!
4: He use to go to disco’s and have girlfriends. Was at one point normal and when did he snap?
5: He suffers from depression.
6: He has lived in many hotels.
7: He’s…tall. But I knew that already.
He is a mystery, wrapped in an enigma. Hopefully I can learn more!
The Joyce Meyer’s Woman’s Convention has been in town. A bunch of Evangelical women are holding up in the hotel. I am not religious. I’m just not. I don’t care if other people are, it’s just not my cup of tea. For reason, not being religious makes you uncomfortable around overly religious people. I am just out there in a sea of Jesus lover’s feeling like I am the devil. I have a few bless me! I didn’t sneeze. One said, “Bless you and you’re family. I came to St. Louis to bless, and that’s what I’m doing.” Now, I have a few issues with this statement. First of all, What makes YOUR blessing worth so much. That is pretty narcissistic. I think, if believed in this voo doo, only God himself could do that. You’re blessing isn’t worth anything. Stop thinking so highly of yourself. Second, what if I hated my family? I wanted to just say, “I will take that blessing, but my family, You take it back! I hate those mutha fuckers.”
These overly religious people do give me a break from all the drunks. That’s kind of nice.