Sweet Dreams, Asshole

May 21, 2015 3:51am

A drunk guest came stumbling into the building. I asked him if he needed any help getting to his room: “Elevator” was all he said to me.
“To my left” I replied.
He started walking in that direction when he stopped and pointed his finger at me.
“Hey!” He shouted. “Make me some food.”
“I can offer you some cereal or a bagel, but I won’t have breakfast made until 6am.” I told him.
“I want a sandwich.” He drunkenly demanded.
“I can get you some bread and you can make a peanut butter sandwich if you want.” I said.
“Fuckin peanut butter?” He was scolding me. “Do I look like a little kid?”
“No, that is the best I can offer you as far as making a sandwich.” I said, and he scowled at me.
“OK fuck you then.” He said with his middle finger pointing up, but kinda sideways; because he was a drunk asshole and had no balance.
“Of course.” I said. “The guest is always right. What room are you staying in? I will have a pizza delivered to your room. Is plain cheese OK?”
“Perfect!” He yelled; his voice echoed down the hall.
I took his name, and looked on the computer to see what room he was in.
“How about you go on up to your room and I will deliver the pizza to you as soon as it arrives.” I said.
“Sounds good to me.” He said as he wobbled his way to the elevator.
I took another key, and I programmed it for his room. When you do that, it voids out any keys previously made for that room; it took him about 10 minutes to come back to the desk.
“My fuckin key isn’t working.” He said.
“Okay, let me reset it for you I said.
I reset the key and handed it back to him.
“Cool.” He said; then he stumbled his way back to the elevator.
I took the other key and reset it again. He came back, and this time he was holding on to the top of the counter for balance, and he dropped his head on his arms.
“The fuckin key still isn’t working.” He managed to say.
“Oh geez, this is unusual. Maybe if you put your phone in your other pocket the key will work better. Let me fix the card again.” I said. He handed me the card, and I reset it.
“I can’t keep going up and down these stairs.” He said as he lifted his head from the counter.
“You have been using the elevator. Rest well. See you soon.” I said.
He worked his way to the elevator again. I reset the key again. He never came back. Interesting. I had to check-in the person who never arrived, so it will count as part of the day’s business. Once I had the audit done, a woman walked in; she was the person who didn’t show up before the audit. I handed her the paper to sign, and she noticed I was not touching the keyboard.
“Why aren’t you checking me in? She asked.
“I already checked you in. All you have to do is sign the paper and you can go right to your room.”
“Why would you check me in before I arrive? What if I didn’t show up? Does that mean you were going to charge me for a room I might not have used?” She said.
“Ma’am, you paid for the room at the time you made the reservation on Expedia; it is non-refundable. The room was paid for before you got here.
“Okay, but why did you check me into the room when I wasn’t here yet?” She asked.
“Because before I can do an audit I have to make sure all reservations are checked in.” I informed her.
She nodded her head, took her key, and walked to the elevator. As soon as I finished printing my reports, the phone rang.
“Guest services, how can I help you?” I said; it was the lady who just arrived.
“While I was walking to my room, I saw a man sitting in the hallway sleeping.” She said.
“Oh my.” I said. (In my head that sounded like George Takei) “I will have to go and see if I can get him in his room.” She hung up; I laughed.
When I was delivering the bills I found the drunk guy asleep in the hall. His key card was still in the door. I nudged him with my foot and asked him if he can get up; he just snored. I nudged him a bit harder; he just flopped his head to the other shoulder. I dropped his bill on his lap, then I opened his door. I grabbed his feet and dragged him into the room. I left him on the floor in front of the bathroom.
“Sweet dreams, asshole.” I said, as I walked out of his room.


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