Prostitutes and Poopy Bed Sheets

July 2, 2015 11:36pm

A man and a woman approached my desk. The man’s skin was pale. He was about 5’9 with short brown hair and obvious bed head. His short sleeve collared shirt looked like he just put it on after it was on the floor all day. The woman standing beside him was fixing her hair and staring at her phone the entire time she stood there.

“Hi, how can I help you?” I asked.

“Can you break this hundred?” he asked, holding a $100 bill in front of me.

“Sorry, I don’t think I can break a bill that large,” I said.

The woman promptly reached over his shoulder and took the bill.

“No problem, consider this even now,” said the woman, who immediately left the hotel without the man.

He leaned in putting his elbows on the edge of the counter; lacing his fingers together.

“It would seem that our sheets were never changed before we checked in today. I would appreciate a discount for our stay,” he said, followed by a smile.

I asked him for his name and what room he was staying in, and I looked him up on the computer.

“I am sorry for that inconvenience. What’s wrong with the bed?”

“There are streaks of poop all over the sheets.”

I stopped looking at the computer and rolled my eyes towards his face.

“Did you just say there is poop on your sheets?”

“Yes, I have a picture.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of his bed. It looked like someone wiped their ass with the sheets several times. I found his reservation and noted the time he checked in.

“Sir, it looks like you checked in tonight at 8:00. Exactly when did you notice the bed?”

“Shortly after we checked in.”

“That was more than three and a half hours ago. Why are you just how mentioning this issue?”

“Well, we were on a schedule. We had to do things.”

Yeah, dirty things that involve pooping on the bed.

“So, you checked in, you went to your room, noticed poop on your sheets, and then left?”

“No. We never left the room until now.”

I scratched my beard.

“You stayed in the room for the last three and a half hours with poop on the bed?”

He gave me a grin and shrugged his shoulders like this was one of those moments in life you just run into every now and again.

“It was a time use issue,” he said.

“So let me get this right. Just us guys now,” he nodded. “You checked in at 8, then you both went up to your room and got busy on the bed.”

“Yes, that’s pretty much it.”

With poop on it?”

“Yes. We didn’t have time to change the sheets.”

He was studying my face, trying to figure out if I was buying his story. I leaned towards him.

“So you checked in to that room, you both noticed poop on the sheets, and then you decided to use the bed anyways. Is that correct?”

“Pretty much. Yes.”

I took another look at the reservation screen. It didn’t show me anything that would help the situation. I just wanted to not look at him for a moment, but I had to ask.

“Is it your poop?”

He immediately got fake angry with me. He even threw his arms up above his head in fake outrage.

“Are you kidding me?”

“So it is her poop then?”

He turned dark red, then he yelled at me.

“This is unacceptable and unprofessional! I will not stand here and let you accuse me and my fiancé of shitting our own bed! I want a refund for that room!”

I got out a quick chuckle. He thought I would believe that prostitute was his fiancé.

“Sir, I am not giving you a refund for a room that you have used for the last three and a half hours as you were covering the sheets with feces.”

He stepped back a step, then he pointed a finger at me.

“Your employer will be hearing from me very soon.”

He stomped his way out of the hotel. I can’t wait to see the Head Housekeepers face in the morning.


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