The Man Named Darwin

I met the new night auditor tonight. He will be alternating with me, every other week. His name is Darwin. His personality is exactly like mine and he’s the same age. I guess it takes a certain type of person to be an auditor. Strangely similar people.

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Not much to report in the hotel world except for one creepy phone caller.

First, he called and asked for reservations. I start making a reservation, and this creepster got off while on the phone with me. I mean, he had an orgasm and just said never mind and hung up. That was weird.

Then an hour later he calls back saying, “Can I fuck your pussy?” No. “But, can I fuck…” Hang up.

I made an incident report and just had the security stay in the lobby with me (which sucks because it means I have to have a conversation with Monte, and if you’ve read my previous posts you know how I feel about that.)

Apparently he does this all the time and had taken a break for a couple of years. A morning person, Nicole, use to get calls from him. He apparently calls all the local hotels.

Here’s my message to him: You are a fucking creepster who probably lives at home with his mother, is maybe named Michael, and couldn’t get a woman to shake his hand much less have sexual relations with him. You will die alone and be an absolute drain on society. Fuck you creepster Michael.

Nicole though, let me describe her. She comes in the morning and needs everything to be spotless. I have her routine down, so I can usually get the place looking the way she wants, but I mean, super clean. Also, VERY into Jesus, and as I’ve mentioned, people who aren’t that into Jesus get a little uncomfortable around people who tell you they will pray for you and etc.

I mean, when people say, “I’m going to pray for you.” I guess you say thank you? Even though I don’t necessarily believe God to be this man in the sky counting your prayers on some big accounting machine. “I see Storm said 3 more prayers today, 37363 more and she will for sure go to heaven.” I believe in a God who knows you better than you know and if you believe in him and are a good person, bam, he knows. I should not say him, it is a spirit of interconnectedness that goes through every living and non living thing  and a lot of good “Christians” are actually wrong by causing harm to groups that do not feel the same. Not just Christians though, Jews, Muslims, Mormons, Atheists, Etc. If you truly try to just make others lives better, than you are just, if you only like your group and yourself, unjust. Bam. My beliefs. No books, no sermons, just that.

I have also begun to listen to classical/opera in the back office. I like it, keeps me calm when everything is going to hell. I also find it’s kind of creepy to guests to be checking in at 3 in the morning and just hear some Richard Wagner Opera in the background, Tristan and Isolde actually.

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Goodbye Tom.

This is our managers Tom’s last day. I don’t know him too well, but from what everyone says, he is the glue of the hotel. Everyone is afraid the place will fall apart without him. I don’t know about all that, but his personality seemed cool, the little I saw of him. I made him a wicked going away card. Just made from a piece of computer paper, magazine, tape, and some witty writing. Goodbye Tom. Good luck!

Since it was a quiet night, I spent most of my time surfing the net. Found out the vote to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” is today. I’m not going to rant, but I am for this repeal. I am for anything that is in support of civil rights. Everyone  should be allowed to pursue happiness in this country as long as it does not harm others, gay, straight, white, black, or blue. If you want to go, die for your country with honor, you should be allowed. We are the only country besides Turkey with a ban on gays. Are we really that homophobic? Do what people do in the privacy of their bedrooms creep us out that much? Not me. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. It might as well be named Be quiet, Live a Lie, …or we’ll find you.

Here is a lovely copy of the policy:

Applicant Briefing Item on Separation Policy
As military members, you occupy a unique position in society. You represent the military
establishment. This special status brings with it the responsibility to uphold and maintain
the dignity and high standards of the U.S. Armed Forces at all times and in all places. The
Armed Forces must also be ready at all times for world-wide deployment. This fact
carries with it the requirement for military units and their members to possess high
standards of morale, good order and discipline, and cohesion. As a result, military laws,
rules, customs and traditions include restrictions on your personal behavior that may be
different from civilian life. Members of the Armed Forces may be involuntarily separated
before their enlistment or term of service ends for various reasons established by law and
military regulations. Some unacceptable conduct may be grounds for involuntary
separation, such as:
You establish a pattern of disciplinary infractions, discreditable involvement with
civil or military authorities or you cause dissent, or disrupt or degrade the mission of your
unit. This may also include conduct of any nature that would bring discredit on the
Armed Forces in the view of the civilian community.
Because of parental responsibilities, you are unable to perform your duties
satisfactorily or you are unavailable for worldwide assignment or deployment.
You fail to meet the weight control standards.
Although we have not and will not ask you about your sexual Orientation, you should be
aware that homosexual conduct is grounds for discharge from the Armed Forces. This
means that if you do one of the following, you could be involuntarily separated before
your term of service ends:
(1) Homosexual acts. You engage in, attempt to engage in, or solicit another to
engage in a homosexual act or acts. A “homosexual act” means touching a person of your
same sex or allowing such a person to touch you for the purpose of satisfying sexual
desires. (For example, hand-holding or kissing, or other physical contact of a sexual
(2) Homosexual statements. You make a statement that demonstrates a propensity
or intent to engage in homosexual acts. This may include language or behavior that a
reasonable person would believe intends to convey the statement that you are a
homosexual or bisexual.
(3) Homosexual marriage. You marry or attempt to marry a person of your same
You may not be discharged if you do or say these things solely to end your military
The Armed Forces do nor tolerate harassment or violence against any servicemember, for
any reason.
( My favorite part, just because above it, it claims to not tolerate harassment. What about outing your fellow serviceman? Isn’t that harassment? But do other members get kicked out for outing a homosexual in the service? Nope. I believe in Lady Gaga’s “Go Home” policy.)

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The Night Everyone Yelled

The last shift I worked, a Saturday, was a 14 hour shift. I had been scheduled 5pm-2am, a weird shift in itself, but then Kevin, the other night auditor and the person to replace me, called in. His mother had fallen ill and he was taking care of her. That’s fine, I could tough it out. Thing is I told John, the manager, hey, if I do this will you give me a break at ten? Just to run home, grab food and my computer. He says, “Oh, Well, I’m coming back at ten and will probably just stay. Okay. Deal.

Being there at five on a sold out night is  tough enough. First, there was this woman who wanted her stuff out of a room that hadn’t been paid for that night. She was locked out. Thing is, don’t pay for the room then you don’t have a key. Which seems to be hard to understand for some people. I want to know where all these hotels are that you can just not pay and stay there. Go up to the front desk and be like, I will pay, I cross my heart I will, and they just give you a room. Who does John have escort them up there to grab their stuff? ME! I have to stand there and hold the door while these two dumb females pack up and complain loudly enough for me to hear about the room and service, like I give a fuck. Why do people think that the person assigned to do anything actually cares about your situation? No, I am paid to do what I’m told, and the fact you are unhappy with your room/unhappy that you can’t stay in a room you haven’t paid for, makes no difference to me. I’m just here to make sure you don’t stay in the room. I’m told what to do. I do it.

They leave. Her boyfriend comes in, and as soon as you see him you can tell he’s a fucker. He wants his money back for the day. The day he held up the room til four. I break down and give him his money, because I want him to go away (and because I didn’t realize what was going on. I only later found out that we charge a person if they are in a room past 2. I don’t know these things, I usually work at 10 pm and all those problems are sorted out.) Whatever, he walks out. Two of my people tell me I shouldn’t have done that. Life goes on.

Except, fucker comes back in. Says on the receipt he got they stay says til 20 and I say, Oh, I just forgot to change that, but the list of charges will be all that is applied. He’s fine, but then Martin says this horrible phrase, “You know, she did you a favor.” Oh, my, god. The way fucker reacted, you would have swore Martin said, “You know, go fuck your mother.” Fucker starts making a scene, yelling and going on about how I did not do him a favor. I am just standing there, and finally just say, hey, lets diffuse the situation. You have your money back, I’ve already been told what I did was wrong, now it’s over. Fucker say, Fine, and walks out. Never confront a guest, especially a volatile guest.  Lesson.

Night goes on, everything fine, dealing with because a beer festival is in town. John comes back at 11 even though he said he’d be back at ten. Doesn’t say anything about a break so I think, cool, I’m out at two. Then the phone call. Room 1026, or as I will name her and all the guest like her VIP wannabe. For the rest of the blog, just VIP.  Our hotel has two bars next to it, one actually connected.  The other across the street has a patio with live music on it. Friday and Saturday these places are loud and we get complaints. Usually, guests understand, some bitch a little more than others, but they get we can’t do anything about it.

Not VIP. She thought I was lying and could do something. She actually screamed at me on the phone. Not making it up. Screaming for me to call them, call the police, call everyone in the world and make these two business’s stop playing music. I just told her again and again, ma’am there is nothing I can do. I will not call the police on this, for they will say the same thing. I hang up, I have guests.

She calls back, fifteen minutes later. “What’s to the police department?” 911? “It’s not an emergency.” Let look it up for you. Give her the number, advise her against calling, whatever.

The police show up. Say they have a woman calling repeatedly. Refuses to give her information. I’m like, I know who it is. She has already called twice screaming at me. Could you go talk to her? (The whole reason I did this to her is to embarrass her. I am usually not this spiteful, but she really pissed me off by screaming at me.) The police said they would (they were really cool cops.) So I call her room.

Ma’am the police are here. Have you been calling them?

“I called twice. ” (Which is bullshit because the officer said she called many times)

They can’t do anything. Would like to speak with them?

Screaming back “I just want them to make the noise stop! I don’t want to talk to them!”

They are right here, telling me they can’t do anything. I just called so you know they didn’t ignore you.


Ma’am you called from the property, police usually respond.

She starts crying, I feel kind of bad. (Also though, I must tell you, this woman stays with us a lot and bitches A LOT. So, I don’t feel too bad.) I just hope she learned a lesson not to scream at random people, especially when they say they can’t do anything.  As well as learning not to call the police over stupid things. The two businesses zoning licenses don’t cover menopause.

This whole time John is doing paper work, he only comes out when the police are there. He does not help with the front desk, the night audit, or the breakfast area, and not even the drunks. I don’t really see the point of him coming back. Then, at two, he’s like, “How do you feel?” I say fine, 2 is basically my mid day. He says good and asks if I would stay. I do because I’m poor and rather than going home and doing nothing, I’d rather get paid time and a half to do nothing. I just really wish that if he knew that he would be asking me to stay he would have given a fucking break. FOURTEEN HOURS AND NO FUCKING BREAK! That has to be illegal or something. I was asking for a fucking half an hour break, I should have been asking for an hour. But nothing, nothing at all, on a sold out Saturday night. That place is screwing me, hard.  The paycheck will be nice though.

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Handwriting Analyst

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, 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. 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.

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Do you all have OCD?

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.

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The Marriott needs to learn to not overbook. No, I do not work at a Marriott, but they sent all their extra guests (about 30 ) to us, and then I had no clean rooms available and when I moved the reservations to the next, made the computer give me this message every time  I tried to check a guest in “Those accommodations are not available.” Those Marriott fuckers had us block 15 rooms and only four showed up! Also known as a pain in my ass.

Then, since it was a Cardinals vs. Cubs game (huge rivals if you don’t know) there were drunks, on a Monday! One was kind enough to throw up in the lobby.

A sad story is this though, a woman and man came in late, actually around 2 am. They said it was an unexpected trip, their niece had just been killed in a hit and run at a gas station. She was pumping gas, and just like that, she was gone.  So tragic, heartbreaking. It felt like their pain was radiating from deep inside them, but they were keeping to together so well. How does one deal with a loved one not just dying, but being killed by another human being? Someone didn’t even stop? I don’t know who this girl was, but, I wish I had a better way of having people know than mentioning her in a barely read blog and she doesn’t even have a name. This faceless, nameless girl, whose life is gone, a life I won’t know, yet know of. I’m going to move away from this sad subject though.

A couple of days ago, an old Indian man who works as a papa john’s pizza delivery man asked me to dinner and drinks. I instinctively just answered I had a boyfriend. I got out of my car this morning, to go to my apartment, and the mutha fucker was there! He’s like, “You remember me?” Yeah, yeah, the pizza guy, from the hotel. “Yeah, I move in.” Yeah, see you around. It’s like, Stalk me, please. Now he will think it’s destiny or something, and that is dumb. Boo!

A good thing about working the night shift is I am up for breakfast. I went out to find a breakfast place, because breakfast food is my all-time favorite. I adore it. So, I googled breakfast places in St. Louis. Found this one, Benton Park Cafe, and it was amazing. It seemed designed for me, which is a weird thing to say, but, it was perfect. Usually, you think Breakfast=old people who get up early, so its kind of cheesy, and, diner-y. This place was hip and trendy soft of. It was a diner with full bar behind it. When I first got there, mellow techno playing, which the server, Jeremy, then changed to his pandora which was mellow, music like Beck. Jeremy was also awesome, very friendly and funny. The food was healthy and took very little time, probably because there was just me in there with the occasional to-go orders. Everyone was on a first name basis, so it’s a kind of regular joint, a hidden gem only locals know about. I had a California omelet which had spinach, fresh avocado, and cheese on it. Also you get a side of either fruit (which I did) or potato’s.  Perfect portion, you get full but not stuffed.  If you live in St. Louis, give it a try.


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Hotel Party

When I arrived at work yesterday it had already been a bad day. Apparently a family decided it would be a good idea to have a hotel party for their children.  These little brats had already puked in the pool, fucked up one of the computers in the lobby, and received 3 noise complaints. Unfortunately, I do not have a security officer who will do a damn thing, so that is frustrating. I tell him, “Go to the third floor, give them a warning.” I give him the room number. He goes up there, says he warns them, more complaints, more bullshit, the guard doesn’t do a god damn thing! Our front desk supervisor was the one to actually do something.The person I feel bad for is Scott, he had to clean the pool out. I love talking to him because his main response to everything is “I fucking hate this place.”

Reggie is turning into my therapist. I don’t know why it is easy to talk about my life with him. My childhood, my feelings on people, relationships, all very hard things, it seems I can talk to him about them. I think he is a good person, but despite that, won’t be able to understand me. Good listener though, worth knowing.

Not too much happened last night, very quiet for a Saturday. Just had a couple of unruly drunks ask me up to their room, didn’t go of course. It was funny though, their key had become demagnetized and it was their friend’s room but he was passed out. The rule is to not give out keys. So, Drunk 1 was like, “But I’m an EMT and firefighter! I wouldn’t kill anyone!” So I say, Sir, that just means you know about medicine and how to use an axe. Drunk 2 said, “Well, what about a marine?” I reply, Do I even have to say how easy it would be for you to kill someone? They ended up getting a key because the knew the room number, guy’s name, and had the demagnetized key on them. Then they called down  asking for food and asking if I would hang out with them. Apparently they saw my sarcastic responses as me flirting. Why do guys get that confused all the time?

Also the police showed up for a domestic dispute on the 17th floor. We only have 11 floors.  They had the wrong hotel. Good ole St. Louis Police Department.

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Tonight I had a really wonderful guest in the hotel. This older couple, 70 or 80, and they are still so much in love. The man was at the front desk and told me they had just gotten back from Europe. Being a world traveler myself, I had to ask where. They were in Budapest and did a Danube river tour down to the Black Sea. I then told him about France, Spain, and Italy. Turns out we were both avid French Impressionist’s fans, so we discussed the Musee’ d’Orsay and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.

My favorite painting by him

The lovely older man then went to his room and brought down a 24 photo diary he kept of his trip. It described the trip from the beginning to end. I found a picture of the shoe sculpture in Hungary especially interesting.

The shoes are made of Iron

This memorial represents the 600,000 Jews that died during the holocaust. I would really like to go on the same exact tour as this couple went on. Other pictures included the Danube Bend, a statue of St. Stephen,  Hungarian Cowboys, homes, and boat pictures. The photo’s of the couple just showed immense love.

Then, I had a guy come in, and I don’t know what started this, but he ended up telling me all the rules to Dungeon’s and and Dragon’s. He is apparently a dungeon master. Now, just imagine what you would think a stereotypical D &D player would look like and you’re probably dead on.

Rules to D & D.

I work for the next eight nights in a row.

Yay overtime.

Here’s a link to the Musee d’ Orsay.

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Cops and Homeless

Second night of audit…and I have lost a report. Hopefully I can find it by seven.(It’s just the wake-up call report…I don’t really know how important that is.

Right at the beginning of my shift I had the pleasure of speaking to the police department about a sexual assault case. Apparently the guy came to the hotel after the assault on Saturday night/Sunday morning, but we couldn’t find his name in the system. The cop told me “he lives near her.” I was like, In her building or something? “No, the same city..Chicago.” That’s your lead? Find a fan of University of Illinois in Chicago. So..he got away I’m going to assume.

Our security officer introduced me to this man that he knew, but this man was obviously homeless…makes me wonder…is our security officer homeless?? (the guy had one tooth and smelled RANK!)

UPDATE: found the report…I threw it away accidentally.

So, part of night audit is to help set up the breakfast area (which we have to have the security guard in to watch us, ours is currently still chilling with his homeless friend) and we’re the only hotel around here that does that. It’s really so they don’t have to pay the breakfast crew an hour extra of pay. Well, there is the head of the crew, Kathy, a tall, thin, very dark woman. and she has been known to curse out the night auditors that have messed it up. Now, anyone cursing me out scares me because I cry when I get enraged. I don’t know why, I just do. I still curse them back, just teary eyed. Very scared of being yelled at. So, this morning she came in and I made it a point to introduce myself and ask if I set it up alright. I PASSED! Phew, weight off my mind.

I also meant to put this in an earlier post, Reggie, knows a lot about history. We had a very good discussion the other day. It was nice. He is such a good supervisor, he should be the front desk manager. Really. He should. I don’t even care if he can’t spell, that’s what Spell Check is for.

I just checked in a “rapper”. Full on chains, grill, bleh. Again, the security officer knew him! Who is this guy? Anyway, the guy was like I don’t see a ring, but I thought he said rain(?). I thought it was a play on my name? But then he pointed to his ring finger, so I said, I’m not going to get one. Then I said, “I see a lot of chains.” Then made a comment on the shininess of his watch. He didn’t think it was funny. I did. That man was fucking bejeweled.

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