Should I Add Pimp To My Resume?

July 14, 2015 2:13am

The second floor has a balcony looking down on the lobby. I can see rooms 212 and 214 from my desk. I watched a girl in her  early 20’s exit room 214. She walked down to me at the desk. This girl was wearing a very tight sparkly short black skirt and an equally sparkly red shirt that was buttoned closed from the middle of her belly down; the top buttons seemed to be missing, and she wasn’t wearing anything under her shirt. She was drunk, high, and in a bad mood. I assumed she was Italian since she was talking with her hands waving all over the place. I didn’t even have an opportunity to speak to her before she started complaining.
“I was told that you are supposed to have something for me.” I looked in the desk log book to see if anything was written about someone leaving something for anyone. I knew she didn’t have anything at the desk, but I figured I would play along. That way when I tell her I have nothing for her it doesn’t look like I am just blowing her off.
“I don’t see anything in the book saying that I should have anything for anyone. Can I have your name please? I will go check the office.”
“Destiny.” She said. Nice stripper name.
“OK. Is Destiny your first name or last name?” I asked.
“It’s just Destiny.” She said. I nodded and smiled at her, then I went to the office next to me to pretend to look for a package. I walked back out to her empty handed.
“I looked in the office, but we have nothing here with the name Destiny on it.”
She looked at me for a second, and then she spoke; waving her hands in the air. “Well then we got a problem” Her boobs flopped out of her shirt; she stuffed them back in, and pulled her shirt closed. Her attitude suddenly turned ghetto with a touch of accusation. “I am expecting a payment, and I was told that you would have it.” Her boobs made another appearance, and she tucked them back in.
“I see, and you were told your money would be here at this desk?” I asked.
“Yeah I was.” She said. That shirt would not stay closed. I could see her nipples again; it was as if they were trying to sneak another peak at the world.
“Ma’am I see your shirt is missing some buttons. Would you like me to grab you a towel so you can keep yourself covered?” The woman pulled her shirt closed again.
“I will be fine. I just need to get paid so I can leave.” She said.
“Well unfortunately I was never given anything to give to you. I am sorry but I have nothing for you here.” She made that angry face that people make when they want a person to understand how outraged they are but they don’t talk; they just look at you with that stare that is supposed to strike fear in the soul of it’s recipient. After a bit of an uncomfortable moment her hands waved through the air in a blur of fingers and boobs.
“Well we need to resolve this then.” She realized her boobs were bouncing through the air again, and proceeded to tuck them back in. “I was told you would have my pay.”
“Who told you there would be money at the desk for you?” I asked. I watched her eyes roll around in her head; she was trying to come up with an answer that doesn’t make her sound like a prostitute.
“The person who hired me for work?” She did not sound confident, and I am sure it was not supposed to sound like a guess, but it did. I absolutely believe she was hired by someone.
“I see. So you have been working?” I asked.
“Yes.” She said.
“Can I ask what kind of work you do?” She checked to make sure here boobs were still tucked away.
“It was a business meeting.” She said.
“At night? Here at this hotel?” I asked.
“Yes.”She said again with little confidence.
“You and another person had a business meeting here in this hotel overnight. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” She said.
“And this person told you that your pay for this business meeting would be here at this desk?”
“Yes.” She said yet again.
“I’m sorry but it seems that person lied to you about there being money here for you.” I heard a door open and turned my eyes towards room 214. I saw one lens of a guys coke bottle glasses. I recognized that lens. That is the strange pervy guy who asked me about “entertainment” numbers the other week. I immediately checked his folio; he was paying with cash. The guy noticed me looking up, and he closed that door quickly. She heard the door shut and she spun around to get a better view of that balcony; her boobs promptly joined the rest of her, and she yelled at his door.
“You bastard! You owe me two hundred dollars!” She got emotional. I saw her lips quivering and there was a tear on her cheek; she closed her shirt again. I started to feel bad for her.
“Are you new to the job?” I asked. The waterworks started flowing from her eyes.
“Yes.” She tried to say while trying to force back the crying.
“Can I ask what happened to the buttons on your shirt?” She squeezed her hands tight on her shirt again.
“They broke off.” She said. She looked at 214 again. I looked again at his profile. I figured if this guy was going to rip her off, then he would probably be willing to do the same to the hotel. I was happy to see that the person who checked him in took a credit card for incidentals, but they only ran the card for $20.00. He was set to pay cash when he checks out, so I changed the amount on the card from $20.00 to the full amount of his stay. I grabbed a job application and a pen from the desk and handed it to her.
“I cannot promise you a job, but if you can clean and fold towels I am willing to bet there could be a steady pay check in your near future.” I walked her to a table in the dining room and had her take a seat to fill out the paper. “Sit right here. I am going to be right back.” She did exactly as I said and I went up to room 214.
When I arrived to his room I didn’t stop to knock; I used my desk key and walked right into his room. He was in the middle of putting on his pants, and he screamed like a little girl jumping off of his bed as if he had just seen a snake in the sheets with him.
“What are you doing?” He shouted at me.
“It’s check out time for you. Come with me to the desk, pay your bill and get the hell out of here.” I said to him.
“You can’t do this! I am a paying customer! I don’t have to leave until morning!”
“You brought a woman into this room and then you assaulted her. She showed me where you broke all of the buttons off of her shirt. You are either going to settle your bill and leave, or you will be taken out in handcuffs by a police officer.” The man scrambled for his shoes and grabbed his bag.
“OK. I’m leaving. Please don’t call the police on me.” I followed him out the door, and I walked him to the desk. He saw the woman sitting at the table; she glanced at him and then turned her head away. I checked the total for his stay. With taxes and fees his bill came to $290.00. I took the credit card on file and used it for payment. Then I told him he owed $300.00 in cash for the room. He went into his pocket and pulled out three $100 bills, then he dropped them on the counter. I swiped the bills from in front of him and held them in my hand.
“Now get the hell out of here. If I see you around here again I’m going to have the police deal with you.” I said
“Can I please have a copy of my bill at least?” He said.
“Nope. Now please don’t make me walk around this counter.” I said.
“OK. I’m sorry.” He turned and exited the building. After he drove away I walked back to the woman, and handed her his $300.00 in cash.
“Seriously. Please make this your last of this kind of job.”
“Thank you.” She said. She kept the application; it wasn’t filled out. She got up from her seat and walked away.

Does this make me her pimp?


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