just my luck.

Is this week over yet?

I fell asleep on the couch last night only to wake up to find that I had developed a seriously sore throat. A few Cepacol lozenges and a bottle of water later, I was feeling much better. Not the same story when I woke this morning.

I have not one but TWO boxes of Cepacol (I'm trying both the regular and sugar free varieties for comparison), I've had a large masala chai and the biggest bottle of water I could buy at Walgreens, and less than two hours into my day I can already tell you that today sucks.

Just plain sucks.

I have already had to deal with two semi-deaf individuals, which is challenging both my patience and my tolerance for pain. At work I'm not much of a talker to begin with, so it really annoys the shit out of me having to deal with guests who insist on receiving a response to their every word.

Guest: Good morning. *crickets* Well, are you going to say good morning? Do you even speak English?

GOOD FUCKIN MORNING TO YOU TOO.

Guest: Thanks for the coffee. *crickets* This is where you say "No problem, sir. Have a good day."

FUCK OFF, SIR. MY THROAT HURTS. Oh, and have a good day.



The person trying to check in at 7am was deaf AND dumb. I was doing my best to use a strong voice as I spoke, but I'm in pain. His granddaughter asked if I could speak louder (essentially shout) so that he could better understand me. I kindly explained to her that I could not. Needless to say, that exchange didn't go very well.

thoughts on manners.

I had a guest put me in a particularly difficult situation just now, and I have to say... shit like this really boils my blood.

He's a vet, unemployed, his wife seems to be unable to work for unknown reasons. They're living off social security with a young kid and they're stranded with nowhere to go. While I appreciate their hardships, it's not my responsibility to cover their asses.

My favorite friend from the Catholic church downtown called this morning to make arrangements for their lodging for one night, which is something I am always happy to help out with. Little did I know that this guest would be 1) trying to check in extremely early, and 2) come with a ton of baggage that he expected me to handle.

Emotional AND physical baggage. No joke.

The housekeepers had the day off yesterday for a baby shower, so this morning there were literally no clean rooms. Today I had one housekeeper cleaning the whole building all by her lonesome, needless to say it has not been a fast or easy process. Days like today I have to be especially mindful of the designated check-in time because I just don't have the capacity for early arrivals.

So this guy comes to me hours early demanding to be let into his room because "the church already made arrangements." Okay, firstly, you rude fuck, you're not even a paying customer so don't get snotty on me. And secondly, umm no, you cannot enter your room until I say so.

Even worse, he says to me that he has loads of baggage and he wants me to store it for him until I have his room ready. Not only is that a HUGE insurance/safety issue, but I'm also not comfortable with it. I'm really sorry you have to drag all your shit around with you, but that doesn't make it okay to try to make me solve your storage issues.

I explained to him why I couldn't accommodate either of his requests, at which point he took the opportunity to start telling me his life story. I was hoping it would be a down-on-your-luck, unfortunate set of circumstances kind of tale, and instead he painted a picture to me of a person who is waiting for someone to bail him out. He has no car, or money, or place for his family to sleep, but by golly he has plenty of beer and cigarettes. He has no money to eat, but he demands long distance phone privileges... for free.

It's disheartening to see my tax dollars support someone who has no interest in supporting himself, but it's even more frustrating that he can't even bother to muster some manners. Charity is a gift not a right, and it won't do you any favors pissing off the people responsible for your well being.

oh goodie, another schizophrenic.

Some weirdo in a hoodie tried to jack my breakfast, and then he apologized.

Umm... weird? It gets weirder.

He was talking sense at first, until he got to the part about his vagina/pussy/chocha (his words) and his pee hole that had been circumcised and his brothers stretched it out. Oh, also, he was a fighter in WWI where he lost his arm after it got stuck on a tourniquet as he jumped out of a plane. And his finger hurts.

Thankfully this weirdo flashed me his key card from another property where I was able to get information from their manager. She was very kind to share some info with me, and I think we have this matter resolved... once social services arrives.

can I get a 6:30 wakeup call? .... uuh, another one? you've already asked twice.

101 has called three times asking for a wake-up call. For the SAME TIME. On a football weekend, this wouldn't be abnormal, but considering who this person is, I find it endlessly entertaining. Update: four times.

215 failed to mention to me while making his reservation that he's in a wheel chair. He asked for a ground floor room, but not a handicap room. So when his girlfriend came to check in, I got an earful of "that's illegal" and "this is unacceptable" when I explained to her that none of our rooms are accessible to him. If anyone else had taken this guy's reservation, I could understand how the mistake between "ground floor" and "handicap accessible" could be made, but seeing as how I was the person who MADE and CONFIRMED the reservation AND made special considerations to leave a note in his guest file, I can say beyond a doubt that this information was not effectively communicated with the fault being on the guest's end. I don't make it a habit to blame people to their faces, but this time I had to make the point that the mistake was not my own. I explained to the nice lady, as calmly as I could, that I was the manager-on-duty and I would do my best to arrange for alternative arrangements for her and her handi-capable friend, but ultimately I was limited in what I would be able to accomplish given the time frame.

I spent a good hour of my time calling around to various other hotels begging them to match our rate, or at least lower their rate so I could find a place for these two to sleep. It was a fucking nightmare. I thought I found a solution with my friends down at the Super 8, they agreed to match our rate and bill the amount to us (so that I wouldn't have to spend another hour on the phone with this guy's bank begging them to release the pre-authorization) only to find out that their handicap rooms aren't big enough for a chair-bound person to wheel himself around freely.

I called my other friends at the BW (again... 'cause our first attempt at making arrangements didn't work out) and we found an agreeable solution. Tonight, they stay in a standard double queen and tomorrow move into a handicap double queen. BW would match my rate and bill the balance to us, so that I could charge the guest's card without him having double or triple authorizations to send him into overdraft (NOTE TO EVERYONE: please don't use a debit card at a hotel unless you have plenty of funds available. Just don't fucking do it).

In the end, all my frantic efforts paid off. I got the guests in a place they'd be more than comfortable at the rate they were promised, I handled this guy's finances so that he wouldn't suffer any bank overdrafts (while I don't consider worrying about bank issues to be part of my job, I'm proud that I was able to be sensitive to his issues), aaaand I managed to sell a room for two nights for my BW friends, since their weekend business is hurting much more than mine is.

Problem solved, but my heart's still beating loud. Oh mon dieu.

today's daily dose of WTF.

Caller: I'm on 55 South in Memphis right now, can you tell me how long it will take to get to you?
Me: Ummm... are you sure you have the right number? We're in Iowa.
Caller: Yes, that's where I'm headed.

For a moment there, I was certain this bitch was crazy. A quick Google Maps search later, I informed her that her estimated arrival time is slightly less than 9 hours. She didn't seem too pleased.

Umm... you're in Tennessee. WTF were you expecting?

Live blogging FryFest.

So far, all but four of my reservations have checked in, leaving me with fourteen rooms to sell in the next twelve hours. That's deserving of a solid "fuck my life."

Already today I have:
-had someone scream in my face over rates
-had to change a key to compensate for a semi-functioning lock
-had to carry a mattress up two flights of stairs
-had to tell eight guests (and counting) that our lovely lounge is not open for the entire season
-had to change rooming assignments and adjust rates because apparently my coworkers are incapable of using common sense.

And the day has just started! On the plus side, I have only twelve hours left and a room for myself to keep for the night and my boss (unknowingly) paid for my very delicious dinner.

Happy FryFest, and as always... GO HAWKS.

Monday fun day, Tuesday... blues day?

I don't have the heart to tell Mr Torres that the lemon danishes he's been eating over the last several months are actually cheese flavored. NOT LEMON.

5 things for Wednesday (which is no longer Fridnesday).

1. I am super glad to be back working mornings. In my head I knew I preferred it, but after my three-day stretch this weekend it is confirmed.

2. I packed some awesome meals for work today (a practice I unknowingly missed), but despite my diligence I forgot my milk. No problem, I ran over to the BW to grab a cup buuuut on accident took 2% instead of skim. I won't make a habit of it, but 2% is super creamy and delicious and I'm happy I made the mistake.

3. Watching Sopranos before bed is a bad idea because I spent the whole night dreaming of envelopes stuffed with money made from cardboard (don't know where the cardboard came from). It's moments like this one I am glad Netflix doesn't carry the series or else I'd spend my whole day watching instead of working.

4. This morning as I was packing my meals for work I noticed some condensation on the kitchen window which made me think that perhaps it was a bit chilly outside. Sadly, it was only wishful thinking. Instead, there was a fog so thick I couldn't see two feet in front of my own face. I almost took out a pair of joggers (my bad!), I had to drive 20mph in a 40 speed zone with my wipers doing overtime to keep the windshield clear, and I feel really nasty being coated in a fine mist of whatever is hanging in the air. Is it fall yet?

5. I've been procrastinating on sending football confirmation emails all week for reasons I haven't been able to identify. But today feels like the day. Yep, today.

thoughts on paying rent, and getting with the times.

Okay so, part of my job is being a debt collector. Fun, I know. Ideally, people approach the desk (or at least call) to let the staff know that they intend to stay another day and to make payment arrangements. Most days, this is my life.

Easy peasy.

Other days, it's like pulling teeth. Fucking stay (and pay money), or GTFO. Reeeeeally not that hard. Today I had two minor incidents that flustered me but not to any serious degree:

Firstly, I had an older guy, late 50s to early 60s, paid for his first night on his own but had his sister pay with a debit card over the phone for the subsequent two nights. I broke policy by allowing this phone transaction but he wouldn't/couldn't leave and I needed payment. Today I let him know that I wouldn't allow another phone payment, it took him two hours to come up with enough money to stay another night. On one hand, I feel sorry for the guy. The later years in life are supposed to be about plush retirements and enjoying life sans restrictions, and instead he's having to scramble to put fifty dollars together. But then there's the other hand, he's living in hotel room in a constant grubby state, curtains closed 24/7, unbathed, disheveled... get a job you fucking slob.

Secondly, I had a stranger walk in from off the street to inquire about rates. He was looking for a place to stay for a month. ONE MONTH. This is actually pretty regular for us to see in this area with the constant state of construction projects, but this guy in particular is a local resident. He told me he and his wife currently rent an apartment in town and he's looking for a cheaper option so he can leave his $575 per month digs. What I cannot figure out is why he would think that leaving a dirt cheap two bedroom apartment to go to a FULL SERVICE hotel would be cheaper. For god's sake you dumb fuck, we're not going to change your sheets and take out your trash.

Get with the times gentlemen. We're in a recession, everyone is getting pinched. You cannot reasonably ask for more and pay less in this economy, nor is it appropriate to leave your financial crises to be solved by the people staffing the businesses you visit.

Your business has no value if you cannot pay.

thoughts on work ethics, and economic hard times.

I'm annoyed. It started out as a great morning, but now... I'm just annoyed.

Yet again I am having to pull teeth trying to get payment from our residents in 209. Firstly, it bothers the shit out of me that they're keeping their three small children in a smoking room, selfish bastards.

Secondly, I severely hate the fact that they leave a considerable amount of the care provided to their children up to me and the rest of the staff here. Every morning I have to supervise the kids to keep them from wiping out the breakfast supplies and tearing up the lobby. Throughout the day I am constantly yelling at them for stealing so many of our styrofoam cups (seriously lady, CUPS?!) and the coffee stirrers that I'm pretty sure they're using for toys. Sometimes in the afternoons, and even late at night, I have to physically remove them from the parking lot, which they have decided is their playground. Oh, and they're almost always unattended.

Today I see their is an unpaid balance on their room, which, although not unusual, irks me to no end. On top of that, the missus has me on the phone with the pastor of some church arranging for them to make payments for her. The pastor seemed absolutely flustered with this situation and he was pretty upset that this lady was begging for TWO nights' rent AND money for food.

I wonder if it ever occurred to her to get a job.

Out of curiosity, I googled her name just to see what would come up. A little snippet from the local newspaper showed that a storage company in town was planning a public sale of the contents of her storage unit on July 20th. Also on the list: Bill fucking Martin. Which explains his sudden reappearance.

Maybe I'm too spoiled, maybe my parents provided too nice of a life for me, maybe it's that I work too hard or that I'm too proud to ever allow myself to be in that situation. The storage company is the same one I rented from for over a year so I know for a fact that their facilities are super nice and the prices are more than reasonable. I can't help but shake my head at the idea that there are people living just a few feet away from where I sit that can't (or maybe won't) work hard enough to bring themselves above begging.

As a former Catholic I'm happy to see that offering of 10% of my parents' yearly income really is going to help the needy (as opposed to lining the pockets of self-righteous religious zealots like I had previously assumed) but today I am absolutely enraged with the blurring of the lines between "needy" and "lazy."

I've just about lost my patience with those guests of ours that seem to think we're running a charity here. It's a BUSINESS, pay up.

Or get out. Preferably the latter.

oh good lord.

I was really enjoying not having anything sensational to write about, I was enjoying having pleasant evenings at work, passing the time like it's my job. I guess that is not today's fate.

I came in to my coworker assaulting me with more work hours which I violently declined. Then, our resident group of Mexican workers were demanding their paychecks which were located in a FedEx mailer in the top drawer of my desk. It was addressed to their boss, who conveniently is in another state. I could find no other solution than to open the package myself (totally against the law) and distribute the paychecks myself. Before I knew it, there were dozens of them swarming around my desk.

The final Fridnesday: the you've-gotta-be-fucking-kidding edition.

Welp, some good news and some bad news. To start, the good news: this is the last Wednesday I'll be working for the summer, I have decided to step back from the scheduling issues and allow this shift to be given to someone else to quell all the lack-of-hours arguments we've been having as of late.

And the bad news: someone is either going to have to quit, or be fired. I know beyond all doubt that this person will not be me, but even with that assurance in mind I can't help but be stressed by this whole situation. I've already talked about it in great length today to multiple people, so I won't be rehashing it here (it's outta my hands, gonna let it roll off my shoulders). BUT - there are some things I need to write down before I forget.

Things I would like to do once I have a big-girl Manager job:
1. I will have 100%, complete, and sole control of scheduling.
2. In the event my employees are insolent assholes who refuse to work weekends, I will assign weekends using a sign-up system where employees MUST volunteer at least one weekend a month. And I must also implement a three-strike rule for those who refuse to comply.
3. Charitable contributions will be made on behalf of the property on a regular basis. We have a tremendous amount of resources at our disposal and I would not feel right about being in charge without sharing the good fortune with the community.
4. There will be bonuses for working weekends and holidays. No exceptions.
5. VIP program! Although we don't officially have one now, I have the informal structuring of one in my head that rewards our most loyal customers and I can most certainly say IT WORKS.
6. Six month employee evaluations. I am TOO GOOD of a worker to be lumped in with everyone else, but due to the fact that I'm in school and poor I can't really argue out of fear of losing my job. But I vow to do my best to avoid that with my future employees.
7. Dear self, it is very fucking important that you do your job as a manager. And don't leave it for someone else to do it with. Dear boss, sometimes I hate you.

thoughts on professional courtesies.

I'm not used to having things done for me at work; I tend to be the person taking care of everything (and everyone, for that matter). So imagine my surprise this morning when I walk into work and sitting on the desk is a piece of scratch paper with a scribbled note saying "Good morning, this is for you." My boss left behind a shiny red apple for me!

Not only that, but he prepared the breakfast station overnight so all I had to do was set out the food. It was a small gesture, but sweet nonetheless.

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!

In my last ten minutes of this already horrible day at work, I came back to the lobby after spending a few minutes downstairs to find a bloody fucking mess.

No. Literally. A BLOODY. FUCKING. MESS.

thoughts on professionalism.

I was approached a while back to work at the Best Western owned by my boss. It was funny timing since I had already been planning on offering my services in exchange for listing the position as an "internship" both for résumé purposes and for class credit. I filled out an application and stapled my current résumé to the back, I gave May 12 as my start date (right after finals) and expected to be in training by then. It is May 16 and I have yet to hear back from anyone, I haven't seen a W-4 or an anything even resembling an employee intake form. I was concerned, but only minorly because inside intel tells me that one of their current employees recently submitted a 2 week notice for her intent to quit. Not to mention, my unnamed source (ahem, Misty) says it's a shit show when it comes to scheduling, proofed by the fact that she was called in to work this morning despite suffering from bronchitis and sinusitis and having no voice.

They could really use my help.

My dear friend was kind enough to give me a courtesy call (the poor thing, she really can't talk) to let me know that my future would-be boss has some concerns regarding my professionalism.

My immediate response was a violent one. I was hurt and angry, I may have used some expletives and called him a few names. In all my years at this property, and the time I spent at other ones, I surely had learned how to appropriately conduct myself.

And then I got to thinking...

I need to be better about showing up on time (but it hurts my soul!), and of course there's the issue of proper dress. I definitely have the wardrobe, I just don't use it. It's not an issue where I work now, but I'll have to be careful where I keep my laptop and crackberry (out of sight, of course), and no more iPod.

Thinking about it now, I see where this dude is coming from. But in all fairness, my problems are mostly aesthetic and are 100% attributable to the specific conditions under which I currently work. I do like that I'm getting the chance to have a "real" (whatever that means) job experiencing things like dressing like a grown-up, and where I'll be held accountable to a higher standard (aka the lovely workers at the Best Western Customer Care call center).

Most importantly, I'll be able to break in my shiny new gold sparkle Steve Madden pumps, and have extra income before Las Vegas. LAS VEGAS, ya hear!

-----

Morning ridiculousness:

Out of curiosity, I searched court records for the lady who calls me thick. Yep... I don't want her staying here anymore. Nothing too scandalous, just some small claims stuff with a local condo rental place, but enough to know that I really shouldn't be doing business with this individual. Not to mention, I hate being reminded every morning of my thickness.

Over the weekend, I had made reservations for a seemingly nice family from across state lines who found themselves stranded in a college town during graduation weekend. They had a family member rushed to the emergency room at the hospital on Friday night but all hotels in town were sold out, so they found a room 30 miles away. On Saturday, I was able to accommodate them in a room of their choice: double, nonsmoking. The next day they asked if they could be moved to a king room. All I had available was a nonsmoking room, but they said it was "perfect." A few hours later my housekeeper spotted them smoking inside the room; she asked them to step outside and they did. Later in the day I saw the same thing happen, so I reminded them it was a nonsmoking room and they would need to go outside with the door closed. They were all too happy to agree.

This morning I was informed by their unfortunate neighbors that there had been a very violent and noisy altercation in the room at around 3am, and that the smoke coming from this room was so bad it was causing issues in other rooms. At 8:47am I had the horrible duty of having to ask these people to leave. I used my best serious-but-nice-but-don't-fuck-with-me voice to tell them that their behavior over the last 24 hours was unacceptable and they would have to leave. The lady I spoke with was unusually nice about it, which makes me think this isn't the first time they've been kicked out of a hotel. As they were packing up their room, another guest overheard them say "I bet it was that sick bitch that ratted us out," referring to their neighbor who has been a resident here for 18 weeks following a surgery to have her colon resected. Talk about classless.

Another chapter in the hilarious bullshit that is BM's life: today he tried to tell me that it costs him 1.8 gallons of gas to go to the VA hospital round trip. With that figure, he calculated that each round trip to the hospital cost him $5. Except, this dumbass is, well, a dumbass. It's 1.8 miles to the hospital, and even if his car is only getting 20 miles per gallon, his daily round trip to the hospital should cost a whopping $0.68. On top of that, he tried telling me that he's 40 years old, but he must have forgotten that I have his drivers license on file which clearly states that he's 43. Jackass.

I hate today.

I knew I shouldn't have napped until 8, I knew I shouldn't have been up until 2 playing Super Mario, I knew I shouldn't have had pizza so late at night, but I did it anyway. Fuck me sideways.

This morning was rough but tolerable. I wish I could say the same about the afternoon.

My resident crackie (the lady who called me thick) came in this morning and said "I appreciate your thickness." It was actually really fucking funny and it put me in a good mood. But a few hours later, she overdosed on the crazy and threatened to call the cops because I wouldn't comp her a night. She asked me to give her my name and personal phone number; I wrote my name down on a business card instead. She was about to call the cops, but she gave up when she realized that she had no idea how to pronounce my name and I certainly was in no mood to help her. Crazy bitch.

So far, we have had 3 check-ins, and not a single room was clean. Next person who walks into this lobby is going to get yelled at, I have zero patience for people who can't respect the fact that 1. We were sold out last night, 2. We have a fuckton of rooms to clean, 3. There are 40 rooms and only 2 housekeepers, 4. I'm really fucking tired, and 5. Check-in isn't until 2pm anyhow so they should just know to fuck off.

Boss promised to buy lunch, it's 1:30 and I'm still waiting. Ass.

Graduation surprises.

So, I've been here since 6(ish)AM. 8 rooms have already checked out; of those eight, six have stopped to comment on the cleanliness of the rooms. I'm not surprised to hear it, I know the rooms are clean. I'm just surprised at how many people are surprised by a clean room... shame on the dirty hotels that left them with that impression!

I get to spend my morning being weather girl, photographer, travel guide, and well wisher, among many other things. Despite the very busy day I have ahead of me, I like getting to be a part of these strangers' lives, to see all the proud moms and dads and the grandparents that drove days to get here. Congrats to the Class of 2011!

Fun with racism (the dark side edition)

Straight up, I can be pretty racist. It mostly stems from my own issues revolving around my ethnic background, but the point is that I'm fairly tolerant of intolerance.

Enter Mr Mandelowitz, current resident of Room 212, registered citizen of the state of Florida and a proud New Yorker. He complimented me on my smile; compliments always put me on edge. I'm gorgeous and I know it, but when other people (mainly men) bring attention to it, I assume they want in my pants and it grosses me out. But that was not the worst of his offenses.

He asked why we ask for photo IDs at registration, which I find odd because EVERY hotel asks for identification (or at least they should). Ever tried to use a credit card at a store without a pinpad? They're gonna ask for ID... not even a question. In this industry, we HAVE to know who we're doing business with, both for financial purposes (this is just common sense with identity theft and credit card fraud being so rampant these days) and for security purposes. Much time and money are invested at every hotel property... beds and towels and electricity don't pay for themselves, and we sure as fuck aren't going to extend our courtesies to anyone without some kind of identification.

I thought I had sufficiently explained the necessity AND utility of having photo IDs to supplement guest records, but this ignorant bastard replies, "It's because of all the blacks, isn't it?"

Before I had a chance to life my jaw off the floor, his verbal diarrhea continued. "Listen, I'm from New York. I grew up in the ghetto. I lived my life around blacks and Puerto Ricans. But I never seen a place worse than here. You have the WORST people here. And I can say that, 'cause I'm a Jew."

I have NO FUCKING IDEA how being Jewish qualifies him to label an entire city's population as "the worst," nor am I even clear on the criteria on which he based his judgment. I've lived in the corn long enough to consider myself a native, I am I-O-W-A to the point of having the default mindset of being a Midwest girl who has no idea what it's like to live in "the city." I always thought of places like New York as being a mystical and civilized place or worldly and learned people. The close-minded, over-opinionated racist shit (in my mind) comes from homogeneous places like Alabama and wherever Michelle Bachmann's family is from; New York is supposed to be the colorful explosion where people of all varieties tolerate each other and keep their bigotry behind their rent-controlled doors.

Fuck today, even though it's Fridnesday.

I am in a horribly wretched mood today.

My morning didn't go as planned, my afternoon didn't go as planned, I forgot to charge my electronics and I hate my job.

There, I said it. Today I fucking hate my fucking job.

I think it's mostly because I was wrongly assigned an overnight shift when I'm already scheduled to work the morning. Sure, it'll be figured out before I'm forced to pull a 15-hour all nighter, but it still chaps my ass that it was suggested to begin with.

Also, I'm getting REALLY fucking tired of my personal Visa card being used for business expenses. Yes, I get reimbursed, but it still chaps my ass.

AND, I fucked myself on finals, and now my guests are fucking me of what little study time I have left before my first exam tomorrow.

And it's all kinda my fault... FUCK.

Sunday morning surprises.

Boss gifted me $10 in quarters, a case of Coke, and a bag of vanilla creme cookies for something I did last week. Huh. I try not to be dramatic and think that my good deeds go unnoticed, I'm just glad that this time I got a little (UN-ASKED FOR) recognition :)

Ten minutes before checkout, everyone had returned their keys and emptied the rooms. Seriously?? This NEVER happens.

I have the grand misfortune of having to scan a hundred rooms of vanity reconstruction plans and upload it to a flash drive for my boss's newest property. As tedious and sucky as this sounds, it seems MUCH easier having the motivation of work being over in THREE HOURS. Not to mention, I have a shiny pile of quarters cheering me on. Seriously, do you know what ten dollars' worth of quarters looks like in a pile? It's amazing, trust me. And the ultimate upside: getting my grubby hands all over this paperwork, in case I ever have to spearhead a complete property renovation.

I'm tired, but feeling good. Happy Sunday!

Well, thankfully it's Fridnesday.

Room 108 paid ENTIRELY in change. Fourty-two dollars and fifty-six cents. No fucking joke. For the time it took me to count all the change, I should have just paid for his room my damn self. Jesus.

A guest refused to stay once he learned that we don't offer flat screen TVs in the rooms. Umm... really?

Another guest asked to stay for free since he "was owed a refund" from last year. Yeah, sorry dude, you're delusional. Thankfully he wasn't argumentative and just paid for his room.

107 was so eager to get into his room that he left without signing the receipt... or taking the key. He also gave me his best "The Wire"-esque shiiiiiiiit... quite comical.

Room 314 checked out early, which was all good cuz at 7pm I was already at 70% occupancy and I could use another king size room. I went to go service it (mostly just to pocket my $10 fee), and I found that this non-smoking room had been smoked in... excessively. Not only that, but our oh-so-courteous guest had taken the smoke detector from the wall and removed the battery. Dear guest, THAT IS A FELONY. I'm going to do him the one kindness of not turning over his information to the cops and just putting him on our Do Not Rent list. Fucker.

Double post Monday: the ri-god-damn-diculous edition.

Après les Pâques, that's what I've decided to name this time of year: late enough in the Spring to be past the frost, early enough that the construction crews have yet to swarm.

They're like locusts, and it used to be a great thing for business. But today, all SIX of the construction companies I've spoken with are low-balling me on rates and ducking out looking for "cheaper alternatives." News flash: this is it.

I don't consider it my personal job to finance the works of well-funded construction crews. I don't consider it to be extraordinary for a company to shell out $300 to lodge four guys for a week. I also don't consider it a "group" to have four rooms, or "extended stay" for an unspecified and un-guaranteed length of time.

The downside to construction season: the weather, and cheap bastards. Today seems to be a plague of both.

Easter chocolate hangover = no one wants to check out.

I came into work this morning expecting ten rooms to checkout. At 10:44am, 16 minutes until checkout, only 2 have checked out.

This puts a serious kink in my routine and it certainly doesn't help that one of the housekeepers has today off.

-----

The guest in room 105, a dapper-loooking black man, came to me asking for an extension for payment. His condition was that he could afford to leave a partial payment of $21.00 and the rest would be paid after he go off from work at 5pm.

I explained the policies about partial payments (we just don't do them, sorry) and late payments (you have an hour, starting NOW... tick tick tick) and he walked away without a word.

No more than two minutes later a pungent smelling black woman dressed in her Sunday best demanded to speak to the owner... not just the manager, the OWNER. I introduced myself as the manager-on-duty and asked if there was anything I could help her with. She informed me she's the wife of the gentleman I just spoke with, and she pleaded that I make special arrangements to accommodate their situation. I gave her until 1pm (TWO hours past checkout) which I thought was a very generous offer, but she retaliated with "I guess I'll just have to take my business elsewhere."

And the kicker, before she walked out of the lobby, "God help you, have a blessed day."

Some good news and some bad news: The Fridnesday Edition.

I was really hoping to sweep the 108 situation under the rug as an isolated event, but clearly I was wrong.

When my alarm when off at 10:38 this morning, I rolled over to shut my phone off and check my texts, just like I do every morning. Like always, I had eBay and Living Social waiting in my inbox, and a surprise text from my coworker.

"OMG! Call me here @ work."

I never called her, I figured it was another one of her exaggerated wastes-of-my-time.

I went about my day as usual, thinking nothing of the text. But when I walked into work at 2:57pm I immediately noticed something had gone wrong. The lock on the wooden door the back office had been smashed to pieces; literally, there were pieces of wood strewn everywhere. The largest chunk had been set aside, along with the locking apparatus, but shards of wood were stuck in the carpet despite an obvious attempt at vacuuming.

Apparently, the crazy lesbians in Rm 108 had some sort of domestic dispute early this morning. It started inside their room where they broke a mirror. At some point one crazy lesbian thought it would be a good idea to run to the lobby. She ran behind the desk where the morning guy tried to restrain her, but she locked herself in the back office before he could do anything. The second crazy lesbian also ran behind the desk, morning guy tried yet again to restrain her but he was pushed down and crazy lesbian #2 broke down the door trying to get to CL#1. Morning guy called the cops, CL#2 was arrested and CL#1 was escorted off the property by the city's finest.

The broken mirror in the room was cleaned up and replaced, and thankfully the door they broke isn't ancillary to business functions so it won't hurt that the repair will have to wait a while. It appeared that the dust had settled by the time I got to work, until about 4:30 when a representative of the State Department of Human Resources called asking to speak to CL#2. I informed her that said guest was no longer registered, and she demanded that I surrender any and all contact info. I gave her the number to the police station. She immediately recognized the number and told me to "stop fooling around." I really didn't appreciate her tone or her attitude or the fact that she expected it to be MY responsibility to maintain detailed records of past guests' whereabouts all times. As nicely as I could, I informed her that CL#2 would never be allowed as a guest here and I requested that her office stop calling this establishment regarding CL#2. She hung up. Fuck you, state worker lady. I have better things to do.

-----

The good news, after the shithole that is today, is that the lovely gentlemen of Delong Construction are back! So far it's just two guys, but they're the foremen and this isn't unusual. I expect their minions to join them within the next two weeks, thus officially marking the start of construction season. After all this crazy lesbian nonsense, I'm REALLY looking forward to having these guys back. All they care about is that they have a place to shower and have their beer, not to mention they're fun as shit during check-in. Gotta love summer.

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http://news.travel.aol.com/2011/04/20/bert-kreischer-the-worlds-worst-hotel-guest/

There should be more people doing this, and shame on the article's writer. He's the BEST guest ever, and I would be ever so humbled to have him as my guest. HILARITY.

Things I did before you even woke today.

Slept through my alarm this morning... yet again, a shower wasn't optional but it also wasn't possible, so I brought my overnight bag to work. I also brought my dirty clothes, I had a load of laundry in the washer as I showered. Boss called as I was drying myself off, I lied and told him I was in the laundry room.

Now I'm relaxing to a Nirvana shuffle, eating blueberries, reading about the Batman comics, and contemplating a cup of coffee. And it's only 8:30. Good morning :)

-----

Room for more.

thoughts on education rot and studying business.

The default major.

The majority of the reactions I get when I tell strangers that I'm studying business falls into 2 categories: they are either impressed, or perplexed. But to be fair, I got the same reactions when revealing that my major was philosophy, although there was a third reaction that consisted of the majority (pity).

The people who are impressed by my business curriculum tend to assume that I'll be studying finance or economics and I'm headed to scale the ranks at a Fortune 500 company.

The people who are perplexed by my study-of-choice assume that I'm interested in general business, in which case spending money at a major university is probably a waste.

The truth is, I'm not interested in either. I'm well aware that in business you don't need a degree to succeed, and I'm especially aware that education in the university sense isn't even remotely relevant in terms of the hotel industry. If I had it my way, the world (or at least this country) would be different: jobs would be earned on merit and college education would be education in the purest form, as opposed to a standard stepping stone in the path towards career success. However, this is not the case. Unfortunately, due to the norms of our society as it currently stands, I am less marketable, less profitable, and less worthy of a fair salary due to the fact that I am sans degree.

My reason for choosing business was not because I wanted to learn or study business. My job gives me more than enough practical knowledge than any comprehensive business degree could possibly offer; on top of that, I have minimal interest in business as a theoretical study. In a nutshell, as quoted in a user comment to above-referenced article, "One does not have to go to college to learn how to learn, much less to learn how to work."

After a lengthy discussion with my boyfriend on the benefits of college, I will admit I have enjoyed my experience. I agree with his assertion that the general liberal arts requirements are enriching on both an educational and personal level. I don't know that I'll ever put my knowledge from the Greek Mythology course I took to practical use, but I cannot deny that it expanded my horizons. That being said, I am hella frustrated having to spin my wheels in another semester of college so that one day I can have the letters BBA follow my name on job applications.

The skills that I have that will one day land me a job as hotel manager, the same skills that will help me become a GREAT hotel manager, are skills that no school could teach me. The things that I know and the things that I know how to do well came from experience and practice, and the seat that I occupy in my business courses are a self-realization of the stereotype "default major" student discussed in the article.

I chose business because
1. It's related to my life goals,
2. I knew it would be easy, and
3. Since I have to get a degree by society's standards, I didn't see the harm in picking the route that would require the least engagement.

But that's the problem with young society today: lack of engagement. People are loftily cruising through the college experience with minimal engagement with the absurd expectation to demand a job at the end of their four party years. Of course, I'm talking about the bottom-dwellers, the people who never bothered to do an honors project or take an internship or get a job; the people who went to school with no idea how to pay for it, expecting to land a job without having to work too hard that would afford them a lifestyle un-parallel to the amount of effort they put in.

In an educational sense, I am cruising. I show up to class, contribute what's necessary, spend at most 2 hours a week doing work outside of class, and I'm sitting on a GPA truly unrepresentative of my effort. I have no intention of joining any student business associations or doing an honors project, but the truth is that as a Bachelor's-holding member of society, no one would care. And that's the saddest part, that the educational system (not just the "default" business major) is pumping out an unprecedented number of graduates that aren't contributing to society.

So what's the point?

Ch-ch-ch-changes (it's Fridnesday).

This week has been very exciting and busy at the XXX XXX XXX. We kicked off all the excitement early last week with a shipment of new bedspreads! And we got all the same color/print so that we minimize the psychology behind room selection (seriously, some people get "vibes" and I've had to reassign rooms over stupid things like linen colors).

I spent a considerable amount of time this weekend drafting linen schedules with my boss's wife so that we could systematically enter all the rooms in the shortest AND less intrusive manner. During that time, the ice machine broke. We promptly ordered a new one, but it took 3 days to deliver and install, so in the mean time I was having to direct guests to help themselves to ice that we kept in a cooler in the lobby.

This turn in weather prompted my boss to switch our lobby thermostat to the cooling setting, only to find that it didn't work. We called our handy HVAC guy, Mr Glen, and he fixed it in a matter of minutes. Later that night, my silly coworker decided that 65 degrees was a little too chilly for her liking and she turned the heat on... and effectively blew up the furnace. It was slow-burning in a wood-and-lint-filled room for 2 days before my boss finally asked "what's that burning smell?"

"Well P, someone set the thermostat to heat and then it made that smell."

A few minutes up in the attic confirmed that the furnace was a small spark away from turning this place into a crater. Thankfully our HVAC guy is uncommonly accessible at all hours of the day and he delivered the parts to the new furnace this afternoon, to be installed first thing in the morning.

On top of all that, we have been replacing the beds, mattress AND box springs. So not only do our guests have the luxury of fresh fluffy comforters, but also clean, yet unstained by various body fluids, firm new mattresses.

The only downside is that the majority of the old mattresses were still in decent condition, so my bosses decided to store them in a room (a room I REALLY REALLY wish I still had in my inventory) until we could donate them to the Habitat ReStore. Habitat refused our donation due to the overcrowding of their warehouse, and since we're down a room having to store these, I suggested craigslist. I listed the beds in the free section this afternoon and I am pleased to say I have already unloaded a couple of mattresses.

It's been a busy and stressful time over the last few days, but I'm thrilled at the idea that damn near everything on the property is new. I'm also happy I was able to play witness to these events, so that one day when I'm the manager I'll know how to handle the crisis of a blown-up thermostat and a broken ice machine in the same week.

Good News Monday, and more WTF moments.

I had been mulling over the idea of finishing the training that I started at the Best Western for a few weeks now. When I was first hired by my boss, it had been his intention to have me work part-time at both properties and I trained at both. But one thing led to another and my talents were needed more at my current job; three and a half years later I am still here.

This morning out of the blue my boss asked me if I would be interested in working at the Best Western over the summer. My immediate answer was yes, though we have some details to arrange before I'm willing to start working.

The best news is that I get to complete my training in Visual Matrix and officially go through the Best Western certification program, which I imagine is going to look just dandy on my résumé. Speaking of which, I finally got around to making a new résumé yesterday at work and I have to admit that I am hella impressed with myself. My intent was to type as much as I could (which I thought would be about 1/3 of a page) and then start fluffing to fill the rest of the page, but halfway through page 2 I realized exactly how much I've accomplished.

-----

The lady who called me thick yesterday complimented me on my necklace... and my bosom. Who the fuck says "bosom"?

A "regular guest" (his words, not mine... I like to refer to him as "regular pain in my ass") wanted to leave a deposit of $10 to guarantee his room for another night. Really? Ten dollars? How fucking generous of you... GTFO.

An Asian man who I could barely understand wanted a discount. How much, you ask? Oh, just a measly 33%. He seemed to think he was doing me a favor by naming his own price and asking that his checkout time be 8:00pm. Sorry Crouching Tiger, I'm not William Shatner. Take your name-your-own-price bullshit elsewhere.

Today's episode of "Are You Fucking Kidding Me?"

Someone the size of an overfed midget asked me if we offer hard boiled eggs for breakfast. Umm... that's a solid no.

A black lady in oversize sunglasses and a faux-fur vest said to me, "Where's the breakfast? You look like you ate it all. I'm just kidding... thick ain't nothing wrong." She also told me I had beautiful dimples, at least I think she was referring to the ones on my face.

suck on that.

After receiving the score on my latest Accounting quiz, (FOUR missed points, in case you care) I was in a furied frustrated rage with the material and the course as a whole. I thoroughly enjoyed Financial Accounting and it was not only easily understandable but applicable. Managerial Accounting... not to much.

In so many words, I can sum up how I feel about this class in general: fuck this shit.

There are certain things I know beyond a doubt: I will never be a supermodel or an astronaut, or an accountant. Or an employee of a manufacturing plant. So forgive me when I say fuck this Manufacturing Overhead Production Data Cost Data fixed/variable (un)controllable cost Report bullshit.

I.DON'T.CARE.

The only thing that I can say has been minutely useful to learn in all 12 weeks I have suffered through this class has been Financial and Flexible Budgeting. Without realizing, it was something I had been doing on almost a weekly basis for the last couple of years.

I can't speak in terms of "production schedules" since we are not an assembly line, but I am intimately familiar with occupancy rates per quarter over the last few years, and I take that information into account when deciding new seasonal rates. Currently we are leaving the winter season and entering construction season. I expect to see an influx of Monday-Friday regulars, mostly double rooms, over the next 4-5 months. Most of these are workers staying on a per diem budget, so we sell rooms using the angle of double occupancy (having a roommate to split costs) and we strongly encourage them to pay by the week instead of 5 days with a 2-day break over the weekend. The benefit of that is a marginal increase in profit for our business (around $10-20 per room) and the guests have the freedom to leave their belongings over the weekend and come and go as they please.

Aside from football season, this is the only time of year I wish I had more double rooms to sell. Anyone with the capacity of observation would be able to pick up on these small details, but only someone like me could harness that information to boast the fact that my hotel has struck a weeks-long exclusive deal with PCI to lodge their workers for the duration of the summer.

So fuck you, Managerial Accounting. Sure, I don't know shit about production schedules, but I can tell you plenty about return-on-investment and average daily rates. BOO YA.

thoughts on character flaws.

I was a very gullible child. Unfortunately, that trait has carried into my adulthood and I put too much faith in promises made.

I tend to take people at their word, and for the most part I like having the quality of being trusting and an optimist; however, this is ALL KINDS of bad for business. Once, I allowed a person to stay in a room without a guaranteed payment; he swore his boss was going to call first thing in the morning with a credit card number, but he slipped out in the middle of the night and no call was ever received. My boss made me pay for the room out of my own pocket. Needless to say, I learned my lesson.

I'll always remember his name and face, and I have access to a copy of his drivers license in the event we ever cross paths again. But really, I'm not looking for revenge... just a chance to remind him that I'm the better person.

On the flip side, I get the benefit of knowing that I'm more generous than I have any reason to be. And from time to time I come across a person who is kind enough to take the time to bring their thanks to my attention; it is for this very reason that I enjoy my job the most. Aside from my insolent gripes about the things guests so often do, I enjoy being able to exercise my compassion and flexibility in such a manner that can be helpful to those in difficult situations while still accomplishing my goals on the business end of things.

For example:

A guest who had been staying here for 27 consecutive days had failed to pay for his room yesterday. I knew the room was still occupied and I caught some glimpses here and there of the guest's family, but my repeated attempts calling and knocking on his door went unanswered and it became uncomfortably apparent that he was dodging my advances. I very easily could have had him ejected from the room, but instead I chose to step out on a limb on his behalf to arrange for payment without actually collecting money.

Let me explain. After 31 consecutive days lodging at a hotel, it becomes the person's legal residence for which they are not liable to pay the state hospitality tax. That means that all the taxes paid for the first 31 days are to be refunded, and no further taxes are to be collected from the same guest in the same room for subsequent nights rented during this consecutive stay. Because of the technicalities regarding early checkout and refunds on tax exempt rooms, we do not process the tax exemption until AFTER the 31st day. But this has led to an odd situation in which the guest is either given a credit for additional nights or we must process a tender refund for the amount of several hundred dollars, which we probably wouldn't be able to offer in one installment since it's our policy to only keep a small amount of cash on hand.

The guest in question was struggling to make payments after 27 days and I noticed an opportunity to apply his tax-exempt status in advance. If he could come up with a $30 payment and make an agreement not to checkout before the end of his 31st consecutive night, I could apply his back-paid taxes for future nights. In reality it was only an accounting maneuver: I used knowledge of this law and the good faith I had with this customer to transfer "virtual money" (as my dad would say) from the TAXES column to the LODGING INCOME column.

It was nothing illegal or unethical, perhaps a bit questionable regarding the guest's promise not to check out before his 31st night. All in all, I firmly believe it was a good business practice, albeit an uncommon choice. I figured as long as no one went poking around in the tax exempt folder between today and April 7th, all would be good. And then my boss came in.

Somehow, he knows always knows EXACTLY when I'm about to use he restroom and when I'm processing tax exempt statuses, and today he caught me doing both. At first, my boss glossed over the details on this particular room until he noticed the checkout day was 3 days in advance. He grilled me on why I made the decision without consulting him first, and when he was done yelling he let me say my peace. The meat of my argument was in favor of the guest considering his struggling finances, and that it was in our interest as a business to allow an early tax exempt with a 31-day promise so that the tax money would become our lodging income instead of being sent to the State Treasury Department at the end of the financial quarter.

I won the argument, hands down. And I was most proud of myself knowing that I wasn't fighting on behalf of the business and our lodging income, I was fighting to help out a man I hardly know stay in his room a few more nights without making him have to choose between a place to sleep or a meal to eat.

Now, if only I could convey this on my résumé without coming off as a bleeding heart or a pushover. I really am good at what I do.

An open letter to anyone who has ever stayed or will ever stay at a hotel:

Please, for the love of god, do not wait until your checkout to inform the front desk of problems in your room.

Let's explore:

What exactly do you think will happen if you mention your gripes at checkout?

1. You could get some money back. But let's be real, you stayed the whole night so at best you might receive a 10-20% discount. Even at 20%, there's NO AMOUNT that can take back the bad associations you'll always have from your stay and the damage is done. Or,

2. Nothing happens. Front desk makes a note of the problem, apologizes, and you go on about your day. No refund, and you still have bad associations from your stay and the damage is done.

Sure, you've informed the establishment of the problem and from there they can either fix the problem or ignore it and perpetuate the situation. More often than not, it's in the business's best interest to take care of it and it does get tended to. But the reality is that only future patrons get to benefit and you, the complaining guest, still got shafted.

Now, let's rewind a bit and review a better way of handling this:

1. After check-in, IMMEDIATELY check your room. Make sure you're okay with the location of your room, look inside and check that it meets your standards. This could be in terms of cleanliness, furniture arrangement, scents, lighting, or whatever it is you require to make your stay as comfortable as possible.

2. If, heaven forbid, something doesn't look right, call (or walk to) the desk AS SOON as you notice. If something is dirty or broken, we will fix it. If you don't like your room, we have more. If you need pillows or towels or other amenities, we can hook you up. JUST ASK.

3. To elaborate on #2, JUST ASK. JUST ASK. JUST ASK. We would much rather deal with a slightly annoyed customer at the beginning of your stay rather than an irate customer at the end of your stay. If you give us the opportunity to take care of a problem as it arises, I promise it will make things better for the both of us.

Naturally, we aim to maintain rooms in such a manner that guests are not disappointed, but sometimes we miss things. We're human. And we don't live in the rooms so it's hard to be intimately familiar with smaller problems that get passed over at first glance.

If after all of this, we have still failed to address/correct/make arrangements to circumvent your problem without reasonable cause (emphasis on REASONABLE CAUSE), then it is appropriate to lose your shit, scream, pout, and demand a refund. But if you held your tongue for the sake of politeness (or because you're too much of a pussy to speak up) and don't allow us the opportunity to set things straight, you can only blame yourself for your misery.

Much love,
your friendly front desk associate.

thoughts on smoking, fruit, and springtime.

Full disclosure: I smoke occasionally. These days it's more rare than it is occasional, but the point is that I am no stranger to partaking in the burning and inhalation of tobacco. Despite my (mostly drunken) affinity for cancer sticks, I hate the taste of it. I hate the smell, I hate the way my lungs feel like they died a little each time I smoke. The few times I made the mistake of smoking in my car I regretted it for weeks, and I would never even consider smoking indoors.

I'm not particularly sensitive to the smell of smoke since I grew up around it but I am especially sympathetic to those who can't stand it. That being said, why on god's green earth would a person PURPOSELY book a smoking room and then be surprised when it smells like smoke? Thankfully, this fuckfest was not my problem to deal with but I couldn't help but wonder how to properly handle such a situation. The conditions surrounding this particular circumstance was that a singularly unique whirlpool suite is smoking-optional to accommodate a larger range of guests; the guest in question was interested in this whirlpool suite but expressed concern about the smokiness. The guest representative who handled this call explained that the room was mostly occupied by nonsmokers and that the room did not have an overwhelming scent, while still being abundantly clear about the fact that the room was never purported to be smoke-free.

The moral of the story is that people hear what they want to hear, and that a large percentage of hotel guests expect hotels to be maintained in the same manner as their homes. On a crummier day I would have just said "if you don't like it, stay home" but today I feel especially accommodating.

-----

It sucks working weekends, and it takes every ounce of my being to refrain from quitting school and going back to a M-F schedule. In an effort to make this suck a little less, I've taken more care than usual when packing my meals for work so as to improve my energy levels throughout the day. Today I had raisin bran with a splash of skim milk (damn you lactose intolerance) with a banana and orange juice. I also brought an orange for my mid-afternoon snack because I've found that if I have a little something between 1-3pm I am less sleepy and less likely to go home and cram every food within reach into my face.

Today it's easy because I'm fresh off a trip to the grocery store, but come Wednesday I fear I'll be back to chicken nuggets from the freezer. Fruit should be sold in vending machines, it could easily take the place of expired bags of popcorn that no one would miss.

-----

I think it's safe to say that the weather is finally NOT WINTER and I'm going to ignore the fact that my car was covered in frost this morning because today's forecast high is 58 degrees, and tomorrow a whopping 68.

I'm excited for flip-flop weather (despite it ALWAYS being flip-flop weather in my world) and barbeques and suntans, but I'm pretty bummed that in this beautiful weather I discovered a song that saps all the motivation from my convictions and takes me back to a darker place.



Damn you, Adele, for making me wish it was winter again.

Archie Bunker.

Fuck off, old man.

Go away, go away, go away.

Sunday morning confessions.

I slept plenty last night, but just like all other good things in life I can never get enough time in bed. I set an alarm for 5:11am and snoozed it almost immediately; I set another alarm for 5:47 and I snoozed that too. At around 5 til I finally decided to get out of bed thinking I could just suffer through the day without a shower.

It became quickly apparent that the shower was not optional.

Already running late, there was no time to squeeze in a shower, so I took a few moments to collect my belongings in an overnight bag and ran out the door. Once at work I set to my morning duties... in my pajamas. Then I put a room out of inventory for myself and took a shower.

At work. On the clock.

I can't even being to count how many kinds of awesome it was to be able to do that. It was a short break, less than 15 minutes start to finish, and not a single person had stepped foot in the lobby or called on the phone in the time that it took to bathe and dress.

I definitely won't be making a habit out of this, but I do enjoy knowing that I at least have the option if I ever find myself in a similar pickle. It certainly made working today more pleasant smelling fresh and feeling good and only being 7 minutes late to work... boo ya.

Double-post Saturday: Help Wanted edition.

General Manager, Country Club: Seeking a General Manager with restaurant and bar experience. Our goal is to provide a best in class experience for our members and guests. Duties would include all aspects of restaurant, bar, pool, snack shack, and beverage carts of our superb 18 hole 275 member club. Daily deposits, and monthly statements would be limited bookkeeping responsibilities.

Club Manager: Daytime position paying salary plus tips. Local club and bar looking for full-time bar manager. Responsibilities include inventory, stocking, serving, hall rental and more various duties.

-x-

Each day I spend at work and each class I go to and every individual character I add onto my resumé make me feel better and better about my chances of not only finding a job, but being in a position where I'll have to swat away job offers like they're pesky flies.

I like my odds more as each day passes.

today's conundrum, and thoughts on coffee part deux.

Fridnesday came and went, and to be quite honest I feel cheated of my "weekend" due to the fact that two of my classes scheduled post-spring break midterm exams for Thursday and Friday.

Needless to say I am none too pleased about having had to wake up at 5am (okay, I'll be honest... I rolled out of bed at 5:53) or having to spend this chilly Saturday sitting in the lobby counting the seconds in between struggling to keep my head from hitting the desk from exhaustion.

That being said, I am expecting a package to be delivered to the desk and I can't imagine being anywhere else while the online tracking reads "In Transit." This particular package contains 4th generation iPod Touch, which isn't mine but I'm still excited to get to play with it nonetheless.

iPod excitement aside, as I speak (umm, type?) a certain manfriend-roommate-future-spouse of mine is collecting a (mostly) brand spankin' new desktop computer to replace the relic that I currently suffer with at home. As excited as I am at the prospect of going home to new electronics to play with, it's still 4.5 hours away and I'm agitated with the role reversal we're both experiencing in this situation. I'm stuck at work with his new iPod, and he's at home with my new computer.

Dear Saturday, THIS SHIT IS NOT FAIR, CUT IT OUT!

But in all fairness, as far as Saturdays go today's a pretty good one. I'm already halfway into my shift and I've barely noticed the time. Not to mention it's still half an hour until checkout and I only have 2 rooms I'm waiting on, and there are two housekeepers here to lessen the load. So yay.

-----

Now, for part two of thoughts on coffee.

Both my parents are seriously heavy coffee drinkers and they have been all my life. I never considered my parents as being anything other than parents, meaning I have a hard time believing they're real people, but it occurred to me recently that neither of my parents are what you would call "morning people." As long as I can remember, their work schedules and having to take us kids to school required that they be up insanely early which they managed to do for years on end without fail. But only in the last week since my short weekend visit home did I notice that my parents' "sleep in" time is MUCH later than I remember it being. And still, even after sleeping in an extra 3 hours than normal, both my parents woke up to a pot of coffee... each.

Being in the same situation now as a pseudo-adult, I find myself in the crappy predicament of having to work early morning hours; it's not something I love doing but at the same time I prefer it to the alternatives so I suffer through dusk as patiently as I can. I never considered myself a coffee person (minus the summer I spent in France, French coffee is ALWAYS worth waking up for) and even having a 5:30am alarm time hasn't changed that. But it seems like every morning at work I'm tempted by the smell wafting from the coffee maker and I always fail to stop myself from snagging a cup.

Today's realization: coffee is like cigarettes. It's a scent that it strongly tied to my childhood (severe emphasis on "strongly") and therefore I relate the scent to good memories, thus good feelings, thus I want to drink coffee. But just like cigarettes it's only a good idea until I actually execute, at which point I regret it almost immediately. The problem with coffee is that unlike cigarettes, I can't brush my teeth and shower and be rid of it. No. Coffee lingers for HOURS... between the breath and the way it coats my teeth, the immediate and short-lived pick-me-up followed by hours of jitters, and WORSTLY the subsequent four trips to the bathroom with the dreaded coffee shits.

In conclusion, coffee is the devil. But it's a good-smelling devil that conjures happy feelings that I will probably never be able to resist which is compounded by my choice to pursue a career in hospitality for which coffee is an industry staple. WTFML.

It's Fridnesday!

The raise I was promised FOUR weeks ago... yep, STILL hasn't arrived. But... boss called today to let me know he will be putting a separate check with my paycheck to makeup for the difference and he's already talked to the accountant about changing the payroll so YAY ALL AROUND!

I meant to write about the find-the-leak scavenger hunt I had to partake in this weekend but it slipped my mind, so here are the deets:

It was Sunday morning and I was playing an internet game when the WiFi suddenly stopped working. I went to the closet where we keep the routers to find all the equipment was soaking wet. It was raining pretty hard so I figured it was an issue with the roof so I called my boss. Once he arrived, he asked me to help him find the source of the drippage before we called maintenance. He was in the crawlspace in the wall where the water pipes are, and I bounced around between rooms turning faucets on and off. We determined that the pipes connected to the sink in room 314 needed to be re-sealed, and I had to relocate the gentleman who was occupying the room at the time. I called the plumber who showed up within 10 minutes and had the problem fixed in less than 20.

The reason I bothered to mention this is because it was a grand lesson for me to have been a part of. It was a moment of terror seeing all our internet-related electrical equipment covered in splashes of water, and then subsequently finding third floor housekeeping closet under a puddle, and seeing all the water gush from the pipes from 314. It was all very horrifying, the worst-case-scenario part of my brain took over and I was dreading the damage, but my boss showed me that these are simple problems that can be handled quite easily as long as it's done soon enough.

I took some old rags to the router and modem and flipped them upside down to dry, then we mopped the floor upstairs and left Room 314 out of order for a day just to keep an eye on things. After everything was settled there was no permanent damage and only a small bill to the plumber for coming out on a Sunday, he later told me he was happy to have a reason to leave the house.

On a different note... since it's Fridnesday and all, I was thinking about the sad state of my work schedule. On Monday at around 3:30PM I realized how relieved I was to be done with the bulk of my work week and happy to have the next 48 hours to myself. Until I realized that Monday (as opposed to normal people's Friday) is now the best day of the week, which isn't so great since my school schedule still adheres to a M-F kind of schedule.

So here's a cheers to it being Fridnesday, to exactly SIX WEEKS left of classes (before finals), to having aced all my midterms, to learning how to handle a leaky pipe situation and not losing my cool, and of course to the 8% cash back I get on my VISA card on qualifying purchases. Happy Fridnesday to me, indeed.

B-52.

I'm feeling pretty racist today, but in all fairness I'm being equally intolerant of all the people I've encountered so far.

I don't think it's unfair for me to expect that the people I do business with speak fucking English. I'm talking Mexican immigrants AND those black assholes from Chicago... and anyone else who doesn't seem to have a good grip of verb usage.

Seriously.

A black guy said something to me and I had to have him repeat himself THREE TIMES before I got the gist of what he was getting at. The final time he rolled his eyes at me before he begrudgingly strained his tongue to enunciate. Clearly, he's very capable of communicating in an effective manner, but it boiled my blood to know that this asshole was PURPOSELY speaking like an ignorant douchebag for the sake of preserving his street cred.

Although, I'd much rather have to deal with him unlike the drunken redneck retards that followed in after my orally challenged Chicago friend. This couple have fried every one of their vital organs into a state of barely-functioning to such a point that even if they WANTED TO there's no way in hell they could get their muscles to cooperate long enough to speak a sentence, keep their eyes open, and not lose their balance all at the same time. Simply impossible.

I guess the upside to tonight is that I haven't had to deal with bodily fluids... yet.

fun with racism.

I walk into work this afternoon to find my coworker with a look on his face that was scary and comical all at the same time. He had a complaint about a room I had checked in, as if everything that had happened since then was all my fault. Well, it turns out I had NOT checked that room in, only made the reservation, but because of the way our system is set up we can't make the distinction between reservation agent and check-in agent.

I asked my coworker what the problem was, and he responded oh-so-casually:

"It's that Russian guy. I hate Russians. They always try to take advantage, I don't trust him."

is it Fridnesday yet?

Today sucks, and it's only Sunday. I'm exhausted and it's making me grumpy, unfriendly and intolerant. Today's perk-me-up consists of hot chocolate and Blondie.



I was really angry with the weather, I'm tired of having to dress in layers and waiting for my car to defrost in the morning. The frost on my windshield made me ten minutes late even though I rushed the process by driving with a frosted windshield, looking through an open spot the size of a donut the whole drive to work.

And what's worse is knowing that I need to skip the nap after work tonight for fear of having an even worse Monday.

But that bass line makes it so hard not to be happy. And a coked out Debby Harry dancing like she's having a stroke. Thank you, 80s, for rocking my morning.

Announcing Jehovah's Kingdom

Position: Sales Manager

Professionally sell the products and services of the hotel. Special emphasis will be placed on guestroom sales, concentrating on low and shoulder season sales.

1. General Education: High school graduate with a minimum of one year of college or business related experience.
2. Previous experience: Minimum two years hotel experience. Minimum of one-year sales experience.
3. Complexity of Duties: Selling of hotel facilities to clients. Involvement in sales planning.
4. Supervises: None.
5. Public Contact: Constantly working with customers and hotel employees at all levels.
6. Special Considerations: Well groomed with a good appearance. Detail oriented. Self motivated.

Starting pay: $35k, more based on experience.

It's nice to know that if today was the first day of the rest of my life and I needed to find a job, I could easily land this one and I'm at least worth 35k. The idea of sales terrifies me because I hate having to push a product onto people, I'm not much of a sales person and I'm definitely better suited for customer service or management. But still... I could do this.

-----

I'm having a great morning, which is rare for a Saturday, which is even rarer for THIS Saturday. I came in ON TIME (seriously... I clocked in at 6:01, that NEVER happens) despite the fact that I slept in 13 minutes late. Things were going well, minus the burned out light bulb in the lobby that required me to risk my life crawling up on a rickety old step ladder.

Even with the group of ten Mexicans that cleaned out all the breakfast items I set out and having them grind frosting into the carpet... rude jerk bastards.

Even with the guy who complained of phantom ants "covering the entire bathroom wall" (his words, not mine) when there was probably only a small cluster that went away in the two minutes it took for my boss to walk downstairs.

Even with the door-to-door religion salesman insisting on leaving pamphlets at the desk despite my kindest objections. At least I have the March 2011 edition of "The Watchtower: Announcing Jehovah's Kingdom: to read in my downtime.

thoughts on impatience.

To the person who could not wait ONE MINUTE for me to get off the phone, FUCK YOU.

Let's review:
-I was already on the phone when you walked in
-As you walked through the door I acknowledged you in a friendly manner and said "I will be with you in just a moment, thank you for waiting"
-I apologized the immediate moment I realized this call was going to take longer than expected, and I again reiterated that it would be just a bit longer
-I tried to put my phone call on hold to care for your needs, but when I looked up from the desk you were already gone.

So thank you for your patience, you rude fucking bitch. I'm sorry I couldn't meet your needs fast enough, but in case it didn't cross your thick skull at least once in your long miserable life, YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS WORLD.

I probably dodged a bullet by you walking out the door; if you can't handle being made to wait twenty seconds I can't imagine what kind of hell you would have put me through all night long. Good riddance, I hope you get lice or herpes.

thoughts on being a mean girl (men don't have cankles).

I was skimming through my favorite sections on the HuffPost this morning when I came upon an article about the "mean girls" myth. All snide Lindsay Lohan references aside, I clicked on the link hoping it would provide a decent commentary on working women in the professional world, and perhaps some advice on how to avoid being typecast as the Hillary Clinton of hospitality (don't get me wrong, I love me some HilRod). I'm going to step out on a short limb and argue that the notion of the mean girl is not a myth.

HOWEVER, that's not the point I'm trying to make here. Let me take a few steps back.

I have this coworker: female, student, my age, generally friendly person. The first round we had as coworkers didn't go well and she ultimately quit after a couple of months. I was left with a rather unfavorable impression despite all the nice things our coworkers had to say about her. We are currently in the middle of round two as coworkers; to put it nicely, it's been a roller coaster.

On a personal level, we're chatty 20-somethings struggling to find a balance between books and booze and I can say that I truly like her. On a professional level, she drives me bat-shit crazy. Over the last few weeks I have been very vocal about my displeasure with her work performance to her and to my boss; it is for this reason, I'm sure, that she has taken me for a "mean girl." It is not for personal pleasure or benefit that I concern myself with making her ineptitude public knowledge, I do it purely for the sake of preserving the sense of duty and unity that is SO important working at this particular establishment.

My chiding did not go unnoticed: this morning my boss decided it is time to find a replacement. I must admit, I did experience intense triumph but not because I feel responsible for pushing her out. The final straw was all her own doing... she failed to set up the overnight phones properly, did not take out the trash, did not even attempt her delegated housekeeping duties, wrongly assigned room keys, caused a near-catastrophe for housekeeping, undercharged rates, wrongly upgraded rooms, failed to clock out and left before her shift was scheduled to end, and then she called in "sick." And that was just yesterday. The triumph I was so happy to bask in came from the fact that the "meanness" she attributed to me wasn't without cause. I'm not actually mean, I'm stern. And mostly importantly, I'm not willing to sugar coat the facts of her laziness just to make her feel better about being lazy, or to make myself feel better about telling the truth.

Whether or not I a mean girl, or if she's a mean girl, or if mean girls exist at all, I resent being painted into categories based on my gender that will either render me meek and passive or strong and bitchy. Politics has given us shining examples of this gender bias: either you're a ball buster-with-cankles-Hillary-Clinton type or you're a ding-dong-with-a-nice-rack-Sarah-Palin type (or a pushover-as-influential-as-a-skeleton-Nancy-Pelosi type, but that's a third element that doesn't exactly fit the purpose of my analogy). Either way, I'm fucked.

Ever notice how no one talks about man cankles?... sexism, puh.

End of story: I GOT A RAISE.

thoughts on taking work home.

My lovely boyfriend has said "you're not at work right now, it's not your problem" to me enough times to break me of the habit of inviting my problems from work into our home. I think part of what makes me so good at my job is that I care, and I feel like my reputation is on the line when things go wrong despite the fact that I'm just a hired employee.

That being said, I have become increasingly more aware of how my job takes a toll on my personal life. I can't be an attentive girlfriend or daughter or friend at home if I left my head at work. For the longest time, I felt guilty leaving work knowing that I am more knowledgeable and more skilled at certain things; it felt as if my absence was a sure sign that everything would fall to pieces.

Well, that is not true.

I take a lot of shit from my coworkers for not answering my cell phone on my days off (and even on the days I work, too); this issue comes up at least once a week, so much, in fact, that one of my coworkers is convinced that it is a problem with my cell phone carrier and dropped calls. Truth be told, I have finally gotten myself to a mental state in which I have no guilt for living a life outside of work, and I've found there is little room to test my patience on such things like calling my cell phone on my day off in the middle of dinner.

It is TWO DAYS in a row now that I have received phone calls of the professional nature. Let me clarify: two MISSED calls. I refuse to answer.

Maybe I have a bad attitude, but I feel that as an employee who is paid hourly I am not obligated to provide any services outside of the hours I am scheduled to work. If something has gone wrong, if something needs fixing, if someone needs instruction, and if I am off the clock, I believe that my boss (who conveniently happens to be the manager/owner) should be the one to call.

Perhaps if I was paid more I would feel differently. I appreciate the vote of confidence in my ability to manage the property from afar, but I don't appreciate being asked how to fix a minor computer issue while mid-bite at dinner.

OFF THE CLOCK = NOT MY PROBLEM = FUCK OFF.

back-to-back posts: some of the funnier anecdotes.

Room 500: The room next door is making a lot of noise and we can't sleep, can you get them to be quiet?
Front desk: Of course. *Call to Room 501* I just received a noise complaint about your room, can you please keep it down as a courtesy to your neighbors?
Room 501: Oh sorry, we were having group sex.

-----

On the morning of checkout after the last home football game (which was a particularly heartbreaking loss for the home team), I was short staffed and joined the housekeepers for an hour to help with the insurmountable work we had only a few hours to accomplish.

I have seen condoms and lube, sex toys, all kind of liquor, questionable substances of the white powder variety, just about everything under the sun when emptying rooms post-football checkout, but I reached a new terrifying low when I discovered a styrofoam cup full of poop. It could have been human OR animal... to this day I'll never know.

taxes, sharing personal information, and working nights.

As stated in the Iowa Tax Code: Local hotel/motel tax is impose on the gross receipts from the renting of sleeping rooms for 31 consecutive days or less. Contracts for periods of more than 31 consecutive days are exempt. To qualify, the renter must contract to rent for a single period of more than 31 days and cannot accumulate these days.

Because of the ambiguity of the words "contracted" and "accumulate" I guests in five rooms waiting on my interpretation that will decide the fate of HUNDREDS of dollars in past-paid taxes that they may be eligible to receive in the form of room credits.

I REALLY wish there was an entire class devoted to hotel taxes, I would pay money just to know this stuff better.

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There is a guy who stays here frequently and regularly on a company expense contract who just happens to be a close neighbor to my parents. I made a comment about his address once and it sparked a conversation that led to the discovery that his nephew was a classmate of mine in high school. I don't know this guy well, but it's nice to know that I'll have a little touch of home to look forward to every Wednesday. As usual, he stopped in tonight to ask for his morning wake-up call, then he ask how school was going and how my boyfriend is. I don't recall every sharing the fact that I have a boyfriend with him.

I'm sure it was innocent on his part; he knows exactly which house I grew up in and who my parents are so it's not as if I really have much to hide from him, but it got me thinking about the line between sharing friendly information and crossing the comfortable boundaries.

I try to stay pretty mum about my personal life, I don't even like sharing with my guests which classes I'm taking. I realize that there are things they can glean without me even having to say a word (for example, I have a calculus textbook sitting out on the desk which is a pretty good indication that I'm a student), but it bothers me when people notice things like
    - How I wear my hair, makeup, or clothes
    - Jewelry ("Are those real diamonds?" or "Did your boyfriend give that to you?" or "I don't see a ring, can I get your number?")
    - Changes in my work schedule (seriously, it doesn't matter why I wasn't here on Monday, you fucking creeper).

I know I'm prone to bouts or paranoia, but it worries me when people care about certain things, but I'm conflicted knowing that most of my job centers around building personal relationships with guests. I've built my entire business reputation at this place on being the nice, accommodating person, giving the personal touch that sways guests from staying with our cheaper-priced competitors. But I worry that this strategy has made me too much of a public figure about which people feel they are entitled to know everything.

Quelle dilemma.

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When I first got this job, I worked any and every day they asked of me. I was in it for the hours, anything to beef up my paycheck. After a while I settled into a regular schedule of strictly nights during the semester and I spent the summers filling in whenever needed, and this is how it stayed until recently. This semester I was in a pickle trying to schedule classes around work so I switched to mornings with one night a week - Wednesday.

So here I am on a Wednesday night, thinking how fking inconvenient it is that I can't just be at home. I've been spoiled by the mornings, getting to spend my day as I please, having dinner at home and being able to enjoy the sunlight instead of wasting it behind a desk.

BUT - I realized these thoughts are not helpful to my situation, and I should just be grateful that I have a job at all. So here I offer a cheers to Wednesdays and the sunnier side of having to be at work tonight.

Working Wednesday nights means:
1. I never have to worry about doing Accounting homework at home, because I always have a few quiet hours and free WiFi to get it done at work.
2. I never have to worry about missing a new episode of SVU, which is conveniently scheduled on Wednesday nights at 9pm and I have a TV at my disposal.
3. Free laundry. It's the only day of the week that I work that it's practical to bring my laundry, so it keeps me on a schedule and helps me maintain my apartment better.
4. I have a better relationship with my boyfriend, because we get to spend the night apart to tend to non-relationship things (I'm currently studying, and I would bet money he's playing Madden right at this moment).
5. My work week is over. Today is my practical Friday, meaning after today I have two days to spend as a please before my work week resets itself (yes, I realize that a REAL Friday is better than a PRACTICAL Friday, but beggars can't be choosers, okay?).

So there, happy Fridnesday.

thoughts on patience.

I'm not at work tonight (thankfully... I just about died of exhaustion -- and mild intoxication, but that's another story -- last night), but I had a thought that I just had to share.

I wanted to thank my job for grooming me into a more patient person. And by this I mean patient in several applications:

*Firstly, with people. People there are far too many people that we encounter that are just plain dumb.
*Secondly, with time. Having to maintain business at a desk for nine hour stretches has made sitting through a 2-hour class seem like a cake walk.
*Lastly, with learning. Working 9 hours is heavily peppered with boredom, and I have embraced the habit of filling my downtime with productive acts, namely reading, writing, and general intellectual thought. It is RARE that I watch television programming at work anymore, which is quite a change from when I first started and I relied on it with desperation.

So thank you, job, for helping me be a better student, especially on the days when I have a 7-hour stretch of classes. Because let's be honest, I really fucking needed it.

thoughts on incompetence

It's bright and early (ok, that's a lie... it IS early, but it's dark and gloomy), and I'm sitting at the desk trying to wolf down my Life cereal because 1) I am fucking starving and 2) if I don't do it now when it's quiet and not busy, I'll never get the chance. A man comes into the lobby for coffee (he's a black drinker, by the way) and I could tell IMMEDIATELY that he's a giant douche. After years of working here, I've developed a talent for being able to tell the tools from the squares, and I knew before this guy even spoke a word that I would not want to hear what he had to say.

"It's just me, I'm taking some coffee."

Problems with this scenario:
1. I hate when people announce themselves, as if I care to know what they do when I'm not looking.
2. I hate when people are so self-absorbed as to believe that
    a) I want to know who they are
    b) I care who they are or
    c) They are important enough for me to remember who they are.

Well, "just you"... good morning and get the fuck out of my lobby. OR, you can stay as long as you stop talking.

But this guy, no, it could not have been that easy. He just HAD to keep talking. Before I knew it he had turned my pretty granite countertop into his personal call center. He was on the phone with a staff member from the hotel he had stayed in the previous night. He kept telling the person "I had reservations are your hotel yesterday" when really he meant to say that he had STAYED at that hotel yesterday. It was driving me nuts because the wording he used was giving the very distinct impression that he was speaking about a future reservation (as in, he hadn't been there yet) but he was calling to ask about his drivers license that he believed to have left there yesterday. As a witness to his end of the conversation and as a hotel professional, I can vouch for the extreme confusion I'm sure the poor front desk person was experiencing while struggling to communicate with this douche.

He kept repeating himself over and over, wrongly using the term "reservation" each time, making less and less sense as the conversation continued. He was absolutely convinced that the only place his drivers license could be was at that hotel's front desk (in my professional opinion, he most likely lost it somewhere else), and when his threats did not produce any results he angrily hung up the phone, but not without first calling his friendly customer service representative an idiot.

It took some severe restraint on my part to keep from giving that man a talking-to. What an asshat.

7:06am is not too early to know already know that this Monday is going to suck.

monster post: thoughts on coffee, answering phones, and priceline.com

I often wonder how many people realize that they don't like coffee? It seems to me there is a strong, thoughtless undercurrent driving a person's daily coffee intake. Of course, I speak of the habitual coffee drinker and not the casual one such as myself. The benefit of working in the mornings (as much as I hate seeing 6am) is that I get to be a silent people-watcher. The daily ebb and flow of zombies stammering through the lobby to grab their morning cup is an observation I never fail to enjoy.

The majority of coffee drinkers fall within certain categories, each of which have distinctive characteristics that separate them from the crowd. First up, there are the thermos carriers: religious about their habit, much more concerned with quantity over quality; they will wipe you clean and then ask for more without shame. On the flip side, there are the mug carriers: the people who are also religious about their habit, but with an intolerable sense of piousness. They travel with their extra-special ceramic mug, god forbid anything happen to it, and they daintily sip taking special care to criticize every whiff. These people care about quality, but they tend to be too cheap or too lazy or too stupid to travel with their own brew and instead help themselves to the free Folgers only to complain at every swallowed drop, making sour faces as if they were being forced to drink or else face Chinese water torture. These snobby people tend to slurp and hold their mugs pinky-finger-out, because they're too good for manners and their little finger is too sacred to be expected to support a mug.

Then there are the world's-best-parent drinkers. I identify them in this manner not based on their parenting skills, but on my imaginary depictions of what their kitchen cupboards must look like: strewn with a menagerie of mismatched coffee mugs collected from local bank giveaways and their kids' summer camp art projects and really bad office party Secret Santas. These people happen to love Folgers; they have no time (and perhaps no money) for Starbucks or gourmet coffees, so they stock up on the trademark red plastic canisters ten-at-a-time whenever they go on sale at Kmart. These people almost always have children so traveling with a special mug is impractical and they're perfectly happy to take their brew in the provided styrofoam cups. I would bet money in Vegas that 9 times out of 10 these people also walk out with as many free cups as they can carry out the door to keep in their car as they travel to their next destination. Travel lids were made for these people.


Next up: the black drinkers. It is possible that the people in the aforementioned categories take their joe plain, but I reserve a special category for a specific black coffee aficionado. Some people prefer the taste of black coffee, some are elitists and believe coffee should not be tarnished by sugar or creamers, but these people are in it for a fix. Most likely their mouths are calloused, they walk to the coffee pot with purpose and imbibe as quickly as possible without much regard for temperature or taste. Their signature is the telltale "Aaaah" after the first gulp, as if they had been experiencing something excruciating that only piping hot arabica could cure. These people are completely incapable of successfully integrating into society without their morning tonic and should be avoided before first brew at all costs.

Regardless of the category, it has been my experience through observation that the majority of coffee drinkers believe that it is impossible to go about their day without at least eight ounces of java coursing through their systems. It's the first step after waking, before hygiene, before social interaction, before dressing, and mostly importantly before having to think. Coffee is the breakfast of champions, if by "champions" you mean the over-worked, under-slept, time-crunched robots grumpily tackling another day for another dollar, couldn't-appreciate-a-good-café-if-it-paid-them-a-million-dollars kind of crowd. Thanks, Folgers.

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When I answer the phone "___________, XXX speaking, how can I help you?" it's for YOUR benefit, not mine. I already know who I am and where I work. Also, CLEARLY you dialed the number, which means you HAVE our number, which implies that you know where you're calling, in which case, why is it necessary to ask "Is this ___________?" No it's the fking morgue, can I take your order?

Perhaps, when calling a place of business, it should be considered WHY you are calling before you call. If you don't have a specific reason for calling, I recommend calling when you get a clue. Might I suggest writing your questions on a piece of paper in advance? It would save both of us the trouble of having multiple phone calls that could have been handled in one.

I often dream of taking a sledgehammer to the phone console and all the portable phones. Mostly because I hate the ringing, but also because I hate how much of my time is spent on stupid people who are severely lacking in proper phone skills.

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Priceline.com topped the list of a recent survey of American retailers with the worst customer service. In theory, for the hotel industry Priceline is genius from both ends of business. Hotels have the opportunity to sell vacant rooms to an expanded population otherwise unreachable by other methods, and customers have the benefit of staying at hotels that are discounted due to vacancy as opposed to discounted for quality.

The unfortunate reality of this seemingly win-win situation is that the breakdown occurs in the third party, that being Priceline.com. This site in particular is especially guilty of making guarantees that it CANNOT OFFER. When booking hotels on Priceline guests are given the impression that they can request (read: DEMAND) such characteristics as pool-side, without neighbors, completely soundproof, etc., and that these needs will be met as guaranteed by the Priceline Promise. Certain things such as a room being non-smoking, or handicap accessible are completely accommodate-able, but regardless of our best efforts the hotel industry as a whole is completely incapable of guaranteeing things like specific room placement due to practicality. But because a person chooses to book their reservation through Priceline instead of through the hotel's own central reservation system, they are lead to believe that the 100% money back guarantee is the burden of the property at which they stay.

Let me assure you, it is not. Thousand-dollar-a-night five star hotels aside (yes, I'm talking about you, Dubai and Las Vegas), hotels for us regular folk are not equipped with the technology or other resources to give any customer the kind of customized stay that Priceline.com guarantees. If Priceline.com guarantees you a pool-side room when the property had no pool-side rooms to spare, your complaints at the front desk will not go unheard but they will go unresolved, at least by the property's staff. Despite all inclinations to believe so, this is not negligence. This is how Priceline works: you pay them money with your credit card, you stay at the hotel, but the hotel doesn't receive your money until AFTER your checkout, at which point the hotel charges a FRACTION of what you paid to a specified Priceline charge account. So not only does a hotel not get paid immediately, they also receive less money on Priceline rooms, AND have the misfortune of having to be on the receiving end of customer complaints when Priceline cannot deliver.

Ideally: You pay your money to Priceline, your complaints should go to Priceline, Priceline should fix the mess, and your negative opinions should be directed at Priceline.

Reality: You pay your money to Priceline, and the hotel is left to deal with the fallout from the Priceline Guarantee, at a cut of profit. So much for good business.

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Prominent Midwest Hotel Firm looking for a Hotel General Manager for a nationally branded site in the XXX area…

Requires a minimum of 2 years experience operating a lodging facility and at least 5 years in the hospitality business. Please send resume via email. <--- Oh if only :(