Don't think you're doing us any favors by declining housekeeping services. And seriously, don't ever bring your dirty linens to the desk you nasty fucks.
Don't ever think your money is more special than everyone else's. Because it's not. Especially when you're a giant pain in my ass throughout the duration of your entire stay. In fact, I probably hate you, and I'd be glad to see you and your money go. BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL, at least not to me.
I'm not terribly interested in solving your domestic disputes, so keep your Ike and Tina shit at home. I also don't care which side of the fist fight you're on, if cops have to be called you're automatically blacklisted. Not negotiable.
I recognize that being a parent is difficult, but I'm not going to be especially tolerant of your blatant disregard of the fact that your children are crawling all over my counter tops. If you don't put them on a leash, I will.
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On Monday, January 31, 2011, I had the worst experience of my professional life. Ever. I had always imagined something like this would happen, I just never imagined it would be this soon.
It was around noon time, well past check-out, and there was a particular gentleman who had neglected to check-out or make arrangements for a continued stay. I had seen him a few times before and I knew he sometimes stayed a little late, and usually didn't do a formal check-out at the desk. I instructed my housekeeper to enter the room thinking he was already gone.
She reported back to me that he was asleep on the floor inside the room. Calls to his room went unanswered, so I went upstairs to check on the situation. I knocked loudly on his door for several minutes before I became worried. I announced myself, unlocked the door and walked in.
He wasn't sleeping.
I shook him gently until he gained consciousness; he was struggling to lift his head and his arm and leg movements were jolted and uncoordinated. He was seizing. His eyes were doing strange things and he was drooling from his mouth. I asked him if I should call for help, but his attempt at speech was neither responsive nor informative. I called 911.
Before the cops arrived, I took a moment to survey the situation. I was looking for clues, anything that might give me a better idea of what happened so I could tell dispatch to tell the paramedics.
He was naked except for his shoes, which were firmly tied on his feet. I found a handle of vodka, mostly full, and two 2-liters of Mountain Dew, also mostly full, in the fridge. A giant stack of porn DVDs and magazines, portable DVD player, false teeth, car keys, prepaid cell phone, library card, brand new bottle of aspirin, duffel bag full of clothes, and a printed bed sheet. No evidence of serious substance abuse, no evidence of anyone having been in the room besides him.
While I waited for the paramedics to arrive, a gaggle of cops showed up and took over the situation. I couldn't leave the business unattended so I returned to the front desk as the cops surveyed the room and found nothing explosive. I went back to the room to check on things and the cop with medical training suggested that perhaps the guest was suffering from a diabetic condition. A few minutes passed before paramedics showed up and assessed him as having had a stroke. They took a stretcher up the stairs, and that was the last I saw.
As terrifying and consuming as this matter was, I still had a business to run. Guests were trying to check in and the phone was ringing non-stop; before I knew it, the ambulance and the cops cars were gone without my noticing.
A few hours later I received a phone call from the hospital, a social worker wanted to speak to me about his belongings. She was hoping to find something that might lead to his friends or family. It turns out he had had a stroke and lost the ability to speak. I collected all of this things from the room and personally dropped them off at the hospital. I was able to speak with the social worker in person about his condition and what would happen in terms of his treatment. Last I had heard, it appeared as if this person had no family, his condition was improving, but there was no indication he'd be able to speak any time soon.
In all honesty, I have no idea if I'll ever see him again. Part of me is relieved, the other part of me wonders if I should stop by his room in ICU to say hello at least to let him know that he's not alone.
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