Package

A woman came in a little while ago with a lengthy tale of personal tragedy and an odd request. She said that (deep breath) her "cash card" was stolen while she was in Florida (where she lives) but she's going to be here in town for a while so she needs to give the bank a place to send a reissued card and it's not like she's even staying at our hotel or anything but she was just wondering if she could use our address. (Exhale.) If so, she would graciously come and pick it up when it arrived. Time to state the obvious: She appeared to be insane. So of course, I had the following internal responses:

1. Is this whole thing drug-related? It is, isn't it?
2. You want to know if I'll give you permission to use our address so you can send your drugs here?
3. If she's from out of town she's got to be staying somewhere. She can't just be living out of her car. Wait...
4. Is she living out of her car? If not, where is she staying?
5. Why can't the package be sent to that address? (This caused me to revisit query no. 2.)
6. You know what? I don't think I feel like dealing with this crap. Leave me alone.

I told her we couldn't accept mail for anyone other than our guests. When she heard that, she tried to book a room, but she was so strange I suggested she try someplace else. And then she finally left, thanks be to Jesus, my Lord and Savior. Hopefully she won't come back. (At least not until I've left for the day.)

FCQD
Customer: Do you accept Radical* Rewards points?
Me: No, sorry. We can take Crappy* Rewards points, but not Radical Rewards.
Customer: (clearly struggling to function on an adult level but failing) Well, the last time I stayed at your hotel, you took them.
Me: (inwardly) Perhaps you should take a time machine back to that magical day, sir, so that you can pester whoever was working then instead of making me want to slap you to death with my RHOJ now.
Customer: Would you still honor Radical Rewards?
Me: No. We only take Crappy Rewards.
Customer: Okay. (Thoughtful pause) But can you honor Radical Rewards?
Me: JUST CRAPPY REWARDS.
Customer: The last time I was at your hotel I was told you were getting new owners.
Me: We do not have new owners and we are not getting new owners.
Customer: Well…would the new owners accept Radical Rewards?

Million

It was me, Peter, and the new guy (Jesse*) this evening. As it turned out, Peter and Jesse already knew each other, so I figured it wouldn't be long before they started talking about things they shouldn't have (but hey, they know about this blog, so anything they say in front of me is definitely being surrendered with acceptance). And predictably enough, Peter soon revealed that for one million dollars he would sleep with William Shatner (because he's "the manliest man in the world...well, him and Sean Connery"). What that has to do with him being Shatner's butt buddy for money, I haven't the foggiest. (Please note I assumed immediately that Shatner would be the top.) I also learned that Peter used to deal drugs to pay the rent and that his father is worth close to a million dollars (he owns "over thirty properties") and this is why Pimpmaster P "can't wait for him to die" so he can finally get his hands on that big ol’ money check. Classy. He sounded like a very low-rent Carl Sagan. Then Jesse chimed in with: "If you only knew how bad Peter really is...the stories I could tell you!" Oh honey, that's okay--I think I've heard enough. And rest assured, if I ever see Shatner, I'll be telling him that Peter's waiting with manly bells on.


FCQD
Customer: How far are you from downtown?
Me: Three miles.
Customer: Okay, great. How far are you from downtown?

RHOJ

Tomorrow I'll be working with Peter and some new guy. All I can say about that is they'd better not give me any lip or else they'll get brutally checked with the ring hand of justice (RHOJ). Also, tomorrow's blog will probably be hilarious beyond words since we can all be fairly certain Peter will try to impress me with further accounts of his raunchy misdeeds. Stay tuned.

FCQD
Customer: Do you have wireless internet here?
Me: Yes, we do.
Customer: Do I need a cable for that?

Cranky

Listen to this--I am so cranky that I just told a woman who asked me for extra towels to go get them herself out of the pool area. I should be banned from customer service forever, but I haven't been because there's no test employers can force you to take which determines your personal level of internal rage. Perhaps I should invent one, but something tells me there's no need--after all, people and their fat mouths do all the determining for you.

FCQD
Customer on phone: I'm going to book two rooms online, but I just need to know if your hotel has adjoining rooms first.
Me: Well, we do have a few adjoining rooms here, but we can't guarantee that you'll get them, since we don't assign rooms until the day you arrive.
Customer: Oh, okay. So if I book these rooms through you, I can definitely get adjoining rooms then?

Quote

FCQD
Guy who talks like I care or am listening: I stayed here a few weeks ago, and my room was a lot nicer then. You gave me a downsized room, and I don't appreciate it.
(His wife gently reminds him that the nicer room was actually at a different hotel. I then proceed to tell him about the renovations we're currently doing on our rooms.)
F-tard: Well...you need it.