Entitled People, Car Alarms, And A Sheriff… Then There’s Luna

My co-worker frowns as I enter the building. There are 15 people drinking beer in the dining room while watching television, and as soon as I saw Tara’s face, I had a feeling there was going to be drama, although I have made it a point not to worry about anything until I actually have to confront an issue. Tara greeted me in the office to vent before I could take over the desk.

“We have three teams here tonight, so have fun with that. Just to let you know, Luna, for whatever reason, decided she was going to sit in the dining room all afternoon, and do nothing all day. I don’t know why she did this, but she pulled all of the chairs over to either side of the dining room, and then left them there with her vacuum still in the middle of the dining room floor, and on top of that, she never used it, so there is still breakfast food all over the floor.” Says Tara.

Clearly some of the guests decided to make themselves at home, because they moved some of the tables and chairs for themselves to use. I shrugged it off. There is nothing I can do about Luna’s stupid actions, and as long as the guests aren’t complaining, then I have no reason to worry.

Tara continues with her venting. “The guy staying in 116 keep bothering me because he wants an upgrade. This asshole is already staying in an executive suite. There is no better upgrade. I kept telling him that, and he keeps coming back with the same argument that he is a priority member, and we are obligated to give him upgrades when he requests them, which is true, except that this asshole already has the most upgraded room that we have! It is the King Executive, fucking, suite!” She says. “Well, if it is a fucking suite, maybe he is disappointed with his room service.” I say with a chuckle. Tara rolls her eyes, and clocks out.

I take care of my paperwork, and wait for the guy in 116, who arrives at my desk within ten minutes. “What happened to the blond lady?” He asks. “Her shift is over, I am working until morning. How can I help you?” I say politely. He puts his fists on his hips out of frustration. “Well, let me tell you, the lady who just left clearly does not know who the system works here.” He says, then stares at me as if I am supposed to know exactly what he meant by that. “How do you mean?” I ask, knowing he is about to say some bullshit. “Well to be honest, when I told her that I am a priority member, and I wanted an upgrade, she flat out refused to do it.” Says the guy. I immediately opened the in-house guest list, and after getting his room number from him, I checked the reservation history. I say: “Okay, sir, it looks like you are one of our Priority Club members, and we have you in an Executive Suite. Is that what you requested when you made your reservation?” He nods his head, so I continue: “Okay, the King Executive Suite is the best room that this hotel has available. It is our largest room, and includes a living room with a sofa, and a pull out bed, a full size refrigerator, counter top with sink, plenty of cupboards, and a microwave.” The man stares at me for a moment, then says: “But I am a priority member. I am supposed to get upgrades when I ask for them. Give me my free stuff!”

The Priority Club membership this guest is referring to has membership levels. The lowest level is the Club level, which is this gentleman’s level. Club level members get points added to their profiles, but have not accumulated the amount of points needed to get anything other than the points for their stay, and they can request an upgraded room at no additional cost. If he wants a bag of trail mix and a bottle of water, then he can choose them over receiving the extra points, but he has to choose one or the other. Nobody ever chooses the snack. I explain to the man that he is just a Club level member, and he has to earn more points with future stay in order to move up in his membership level, and there is simply nothing more to offer him. “I figured I’d get a nice cheese plate with some sliced meats and crackers in my room or something.” Says the man. “We don’t offer room service here, but I can offer you some trail mix, and still make sure you get your points, if that is something you would like.” I say. The man shakes his head in disbelief. “You know what, buddy, don’t worry about it. I will take this up with your manager in the morning.” He says, like a guy like a man determined to refuse to acknowledge reality; he walks away, and joins the drunk people in the dining room.. Some people feel entitled to everything, and in the case of hotel reward members, they tend not to read the membership rules that they agree to when signing up, then they get moody when they find out they still have to earn all of the biggest perks of the membership by staying at our hotels more often. Club level means Jack-shit. Gold, Platinum, and Spire members get all of the good perks, which is mostly just a boatload more points than a Club level member, but also they get free stays, and they can use their points to buy cool stuff, like electronics, and other cool expensive things.

Daylight savings time moved forward at 2am. The auditor at the airport location called me at 12:30 with concerns about the time change. “Did you know we have to compensate for the time change and the wake up calls?” She says. I had no clue what she meant. “You make no sense.” I say. She proceeded to explain to me that she just had to change all of the wake up calls that she already programmed, because the system didn’t automatically update at midnight, and it was a pain in the ass for her to reset the times for an hour earlier than she already set them. Again, I was confused about what she was saying. “The clocks automatically roll over at 2am, and if the phone system does not rollover, then all you have to do is change the time on the system, and all of the wake up calls that you programmed will work at their appropriate times.” I tell her. “Oh, shit. I never considered that. Thank you.” She says, then hangs up.

Exactly as expected, 2am suddenly turned to 3am, and I had an audit to take care of. While I had that running, I changed the time on the phones, and made sure the wake up times were still correct. Everything was going smoothly, until 3:30 when a car alarm started blaring. I walked outside to locate the car, but the alarm shut off before I could make it out the door. As soon as I arrived at my desk, the alarm starts honking again. Out the door I went, and it shut off before I could locate it. I had bills to deliver, so I waited 10 minutes and didn’t hear the alarm, so I went off to deliver the bills. As soon as I was on the top floor I heard that alarm again; it kept a pattern of honking on and off every 5 minutes. When I arrived to my desk again, there was a woman walking into the lobby. “Can you hear that alarm?” She says. “I keep trying to locate it, but the alarm shuts off before I can find it.” I say. The woman points at the handicapped parking. “It’s that white Toyota Sienna. My room is right above it. I know for a fact that is it.” She says. Another guest walks up to me. “Why haven’t you done anything about that car? It has been blowing it’s alarm all night!” She yells. “Ma’am, the alarm started 20 minutes ago. I am trying to locate the owner now.” I say. “You need to call the police!” She says. I tried being polite. “I have to try to locate the guest first. Unfortunately, I have to go through all of the paperwork and hope the guest wrote down the license plate number.” I tell her. The woman is in full rage mode, and clearly will not let me do my job without first making me listen to her explain to me what she believes I should be doing, instead of letting me do what I know I should be doing, which is trying to locate the owner of that annoying car. “I expect you to have the manager contact me first thing in the morning.” She demands. “Ma’am, I can leave the manager a note, but he will not be in until Monday. I assure you that I am doing my best to fix the problem.” I say, politely. She still wants nothing to do with reason. “Well, I have to be honest, Mr. I don’t see you doing a Goddamn thing right now.” She said, like a true angry bitch. “I would like to get busy fixing the problem, but first I have to address the problems in front of me. You are currently complaining, and I cannot ignore you. In order for me to help solve this car problem, I need to search for the guests who wrote down their make and model. The problem it that people never give me their plate numbers so I can only guess which room guest is attached to that car. I have to attempt to contact the guest before resorting to calling the police. May I please move along with solving this issue now?” I say, in my polite asshole tone. The woman walks away with every intention of complaining about the car alarm, and most likely me also. I went outside to check on the vehicle in question when the alarm goes off again, and I quickly write down the plate information. I searched the guest folio’s for matching vehicle information, and discover 3 of the same make and model. This is why I always ask for plate numbers. I cannot call 3 rooms hoping to contact the correct person at 3:30am, just to wake up two innocent people, and more guests started complaining. Once I exhausted my options, I called the local police number. The officer who answered the call told me to hang up and dial 911 for an emergency. “I don’t have an emergency. I am not calling 911 about a car alarm that annoys people.” I say. The officer seemed not to care. “This is the police department, you need to call the non emergency number if you need the police.” He said. “This is very confusing, sir, I needed to contact the police, and called the police department. You have to admit, it seems odd to call the police at the police department, and be told by the police at the police department that I have to call a different police number, after calling the actual local police for the town I am in.” I say, like an asshole. “Listen, if you need someone to respond to you, then you have to call this other number. We have something going on here.” He says. The police officer who is in the police station that is located around the corner from my hotel gave me the number for the Sheriffs office. I called the sheriffs and they sent a car over, but not before asking me why I called them, instead of the police department located right around the corner from me. This whole situation is stupid, and could have been avoided if my co-workers would just get the stupid guests to write down all of their vehicle information. The Sheriff arrives, and I explain the whole annoying story. He laughs, because this is all just as stupid as it makes me feel, and he politely checks the plate number, quickly giving me a name, that I was able to use to search for the guest’s room location. I call the room, but the guest does not answer, so the Sheriff decided to knock on the door for me. I started writing the whole situation in the desk log so nobody is too confused when a dozen angry guests demand someone do something about their disappointing stay, and the Sheriff returns to my desk, and tells me he spoke to the guest, and he will be coming down to move his car. Problem solved.

As soon as the Sheriff leaves the building, two teenagers walk towards the exit, but stop to ask me a question. “Is it okay if we smoke some weed outside?” The young man asks. You seriously just asked me that? “Yes, absolutely, just make sure that Sheriff sitting in the parking lot is looking directly at you as you spark up.” I say. The two kids look outside to see a Sheriffs car in front of the building. “We can wait.” He says as they both quickly return to their room.

Luna shows up for her shift at 5am. She sees all of the chairs are still sitting along the walls, and I moved all of the chairs that the guests used back to where Luna left them, including the vacuum that she left in the middle of the dining room. She looks at me as if she is wishing for my swift death. “Why does my dining room look like this?” She asks. “Because that is how you left it yesterday.” I say. Luna shakes her head like a disappointed parent who expected better. “I left it for Sara to vacuum because I had to leave.” She informs me. “You left it for out brand new desk attendant to take care of?” I ask. “Yes. She should have taken care of this.” Insists Luna. “Last Monday there was an issue here. You told Sara she had to help you clean the dining room, and she believed you, because she is new, and wants to make good impressions, and doesn’t know the flow of things here yet. What happened was, the desk phone kept ringing, but Sara never answered the calls, because you convinced her that she was supposed to help you, and she couldn’t hear the phone over the loud-ass vacuum. That caused problems for the desk. You know better than to pretend that you can make people do things for you.” I say. Luna turns her nose up in the air in her snooty way. “I had no time left to get it done.” She claims. “You sat on your ass for 4 hours after breakfast ended. You could have done your job during that 4 hours, which by the way, you don’t need. I will remind you that you have a part time job, and management, for reasons that I do not understand, allow you full time hours every week. Please explain to me why you can’t do all of your work with that extra, and unnecessary 4 hours of time.” I say. Luna walks away. “I don’t have to answer to you.” She says, and disappears into the kitchen.


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