thoughts on being lazy, and plain stupidity.

So tonight I had this woman come to my lobby and admit that she had no idea how much money she had in the account connected to her debit card. I looked at her and said that I have no way of helping her finding that out (side note, seriously?? you're gonna go to a BUSINESS and make that some poor employee's problem to figure out? ridic). Anyways, she insisted that I try running the card; she reasoned that if she had enough money the charge would go through, and if she didn't have enough money the charge would decline. How very binary, not that this woman had any clue about how 1 and 0 work in terms of coding, but she at least understood the general principles.

Sure enough, her card declined and she left my lobby without incident.

About an hour later, her man-friend came into my lobby screaming and shoving his grimy pre-paid cell phone in my face.

Uh, excuse me. Can I help you? It took me a couple of seconds to piece together what was happening, but in short: the bank servicing the aforementioned debit card had placed a hold on the amount that I had attempted to charge earlier. I must put extra emphasis on "attempted" because it was indeed only an attempt... when a card comes back DECLINED on my end, the business receives exactly nothing. Nothing. So color-me-surprised when I'm on the receiving end of a phone call from a customer service representative telling me that a hold has been placed relating to the "charge" that my business entered.

No sir, attempted charge. The card declined.

Clearly Global Bank Card doesn't understand that. I don't know what the deal is with their infrastructure, but this is the second such incident I've had with those blasted black debit cards in the last two weeks. It took an hour and 43 minutes to get everything sorted, but eventually the hold on the customer's account was released (BECAUSE I NEVER COLLECTED ANY MONEY) and they left my office, but not without much headache.

In the hour and forty-three minutes I spent with this gentleman and his lady, I learned some very sad things:
There are people in this country who have no idea how banks work.
There are people in this country who have no idea how "digital" money works.
There are people in this country who have no idea how negative numbers work.
There are people in this country who are too damn lazy to call a 1-800 number and would instead prefer to waste an hour and forty-three minutes of a stranger's time making a stupid, stupid mistake.

Since we spent so much time on hold with Global Bank Card's customer service center, we had time to chat. I got to explain things like negative numbers (for reals, this guy had no grasp on what it means to have overdrawn your bank account), the difference between credit and debit, how money gets sent electronically, how banks can screw you over, and what you can do to protect yourself.

Now, this guy is several decades older than me. Several decades; let that sink in. He legitimately was hearing these things for the first time ever. He said he had lived his whole life paying cash, and that's how his friends and family did things too. When he moved to a new state, his employer offered paychecks to be distributed on a debit card (versus other methods) and this man never questioned it because, as he said, "that's what everyone else was doing." When in Rome, right?

My first instinct was outrage, because HOW. How do you get to be that old and know nothing about banks? Or to get to that age and know nothing about money, or negative money (because with cash, you can't incur that kind of debt), but instead it got me to think. Where did I learn this? Sure, I'm college educated and I can officially say I have a business degree now, but I certainly didn't learn this in school... not at any level. A more politically minded person might call for the public school system to teach this to kids, but is that really the solution? To institutionalize the teaching of basic finance?

I guess I'm just lucky that my parents took the time to teach me to pay my bills on time, and to never charge anything on credit that I couldn't immediately pay in cash, and to have a healthy sense of skepticism about banks and financial institutions in general. I guess we as a country need to talk about this more.

I guess.

some people just suck.

Sometimes people just suck.

My boss is well-known for saying things like "no courtesy," he has limited kindness towards anyone but even less when it comes to paying customers. He's a dollars and cents guy, the only kindness he needs is green, paper-thin, and keeps in his wallet. He is way wealthier than I'll ever be, and I'm okay with that. The sacrifices he's made on his character alone are not worth the weight of his bankroll, and that's the least of it.

[Side note: my boss is a good man (mostly), and I like him (mostly), but we're very different business people.]

Over the years that I have spent working at this establishment, my boss has been trying to chip away at the kindness that I show to my guests, I'm often chided with his famous "give no courtesy" line at which point I roll my eyes and give a silent-yet-exasperated sigh. He really does frustrate me.

What's the harm in letting someone stay 15 minutes past checkout? Especially if they just need a little time to collect all their belongings, it's not like my housekeepers can clean every room at once.

What's the harm in giving someone a couple of minutes of long distance phone calls to tell their family that they're safe? Does it really matter if the phone call originates from my fingertips, does it really make a difference whose voice is on the line?

What's the harm in spotting someone five cents? In sending a gratis one-page fax? In letting someone pay an hour late?

Most of the time, there's no harm and no danger. Most of the time, people are honest and kind and thoughtful. But some people just suck.

Unfortunately my boss lives in a world where he thinks most people suck. I'm definitely a glass half full kind of gal, I'd like to think that suckitude of humanity is the minority. But today, today I am not feeling it. Right now I am three for three on people who suck and it's definitely hampering my mood.

To the ass hat who lied about making a "real quick phone call" to check in at work and instead abused long distances phone call abilities that he's not even supposed to have: FUCK YOU. Even worse, when I asked him to cut his conversation short, because 1) he lied to me and 2) we don't allow long distance save for emergencies, he told me to "shush." And on top of that, he was talking to his mother about some woman he was having issues with. So again, to you Mr. Ass Hat, FUCK YOU. Long distance is not a right, and you can be certain I won't let you do that again. Fucker.

To the dick bag who said he'd pay by 4pm, only to show up at 8pm short of the full amount: FUCK YOU. 1) don't lie to me and 2) don't come up short. I have ways of exacting my revenge, namely: GET THE FUCK OUT. Try me. I really do have that power.

To the fuck face who took all the coffee and then spilled a large portion of it all over for me to have to clean up: well, accidents happen. That part just sucks on its own. But FUCK YOU for being so greedy with cheap coffee, and now I will forever remember you as the guy who was greedy for cheap coffee. Believe me, it's not a flattering profile.

It sucks to realize that some people just suck. And some days just suck. And some jobs, though they may be mostly good, they have their days of suck too.

on loss.

JPR 5/19/1942-5/10/2013

I don't usually engage with guests more than I have to. In fact, I skip the polite "how are you, how's your day been?" bullshit chit chat at check-in because 1) I don't care, 2) it shows, and 3) I'm at least respectful enough to not waste guests' time. I pride myself on my speed and efficiency at check-in, not my conversational skills.

Somehow, and I honestly don't even remember how, this man snuck into my life.

I couldn't tell you the first time I met him, or the first conversation I had with him, or the first time that I stopped thinking of him as a nuisance and started treating him like a friend, but along the way this kind, gentle, thoughtful man got under my skin and made me care.

I knew this day was coming, I had heard from his brother 11 days ago that there was emergency cardiac surgery and it didn't look good. The brother said to assume the worst if I never heard back from him. I never heard back from him.

The days passed and I held out hope that maybe I missed the phone call, or maybe they were busy and forgot to place the call, or maybe someone else had intercepted the message. Still, I checked the obituaries because my heart knew. I'm not going to lie to you, I've known all along. But this morning I got the confirmation and it broke my heart.

Three days before his passing I was chatting with him about school and my family and his family and his treatments at the hospital. He was still having problems sleeping, but he got to babysit his grandkids and there would be no wiping that smile off his face. Even with the recency of the conversation, I cannot remember the last words he said to me, but I do remember how alive he looked when he told me what he did with his weekend and how happy he was to have the time to see his son Pat.

I'm a hot ass mess crying here at work. He was a good man and I am sad.

Yesterday would have been his 71st birthday, not that I knew that before today. He was never one to put attention on himself. I'd like to imagine that if there really is a heaven, it would be made for people like him: uncommonly kind, patient, gentle, and extraordinarily selfless. And maybe now he's finally getting to sleep peacefully.

on hopelessness.

Sad, sad souls.

It's miserable how many times a day I have to tell people "I can't help you."

I had a guy come in tonight asking for a room, but I'm close to selling out and negotiating rates is not an option today. I quoted him a rate and he said, "oh wow" and broke into a sweat. He started counting the dirty bills inside his wallet and he apologized to me when he realized he only had $30.

He asked if I could refer him to another hotel that would let him stay for that much money. Not gonna happen.

He asked if Greyhound was open. The office is closed, and there's almost nowhere you can travel to for under $30, plus the 15 minute cab ride necessary to get to the bus station would require at least an additional $10. No dice.

He asked for a payphone (do those exist?) and all the tips I could offer on how to get what he needed with the money in his pocket. I don't know how to get by on $30. Food, transportation, and lodging on $30? Impossible.

I've almost become desensitized to this phenomenon, as much as I feel for the lost souls who wander into my lobby I cannot solve their financial problems. Even if I was able to get them into a room, most of the time these people are in so deep that a room for one night is like trying to water the desert with a single drop. I just can't.

Tonight's sad soul had one final request: he asked that I call a cab for him. Destination, the hospital. He didn't say it, but I could read the look on his face. Either he was going to find a quiet deserted corner to sleep, or he was going to fake some symptoms to secure a bed. I don't like to pass judgments but I can almost guarantee that this person is lacking health insurance, which means the taxpayers are about to get the biggest most ridiculous hotel bill ever.

Aside from the political implications of the homeless using the hospital system as free lodging (not exactly free, but it's not as if they'll ever pay the bill), how heartbreaking is it to know that there are people in this country that are that desperate.

I'm not passing judgment. I am just sad.

on moving on.

So I've been thinking about quitting my job for a while. Part of it is that I need to get on with my life and focus on more important things, and the other part is just plain burnout.

Surprisingly, the burnout is not from my bosses.

It might be a side effect of the property itself, but I'm thinking it's really the entire industry. The hospitality industry. It saddens me to admit it, but I hate this shit. For the longest time I loved it, I truly honestly did. I wanted to do this forever (well, not this exactly, but shades of the same theme) and I had a plan.

Finance and entrepreneurial management classes taught me better and I learned to love other things in the process and I can still very much see myself part of a hotel in some aspect, but nowhere near the front desk. Not in management, not in operations, not in any part of business that is distinctly hospitality.

The problem with hospitality is that you get to see people at their worst. I can definitely say that many of the problems I see these days are signs of a bad economy, but it wears on you. To the guy trying to put his life together post-prison release: I feel for you man, but pay your damn rent. To the single mother with shitty credit and no place to raise her two young kids: I feel for you, but pay your damn rent. To the homeless, starving, traveling artist: get a real job stop ruining our fucking towels with your paints, and thank you for somehow paying your rent on time every day.

I see sad stories every day. People begging me to ease up on collecting money, as if one day of charity will ease their burden forever. I can't help you, I can't save you. It's exhausting having to tell at least someone once a day, "I wish I could help, but this is a business." Our rules are firm not because we're sticklers, but because I need a paycheck too. If I'm not collecting money, then there's no money to pay my bills. And I really wish people would understand that from my perspective, my problems matter more.

It's my job to look out for me, because nobody else is gonna do that for me. It's your job to look out for you. Not my job.

I say that with a heavy heart, because I technically do have the capacity to help. I could skip a day of payment and no one would know any better. I could give a free room and bury the paperwork and who would it really hurt? The answer: myself. I need this job, not just for the paycheck it provides but for the relationships I have built. Because the idea is that someday I'll have to move on from here and I'll need someone to vouch for me.

I shouldn't have to feel guilty that I'm looking out for myself.

It's the saddest predicament for me because the people are what wore me down, but the people are also what I loved the most about being here. But I'm almost certain that my favorite guest of all time passed away this weekend, and now I'm left with sad saps who can't seem to find money in their pockets to secure a roof over their heads but they're well stocked up on cigarettes and cheap alcohol.

I can't make them make better choices, I can't make them clean their lives up, but I can make them find somewhere else to stay, and I'm sad that's what I spend my day doing.

Your business is not welcome.

I need a new job.

clouds in my coffee.

The two obnoxious (and severely obese kids) in 206 cleaned me out of my entire breakfast stock in about 2 minutes flat. I don't understand how children could eat 12 donuts, 7 danishes, and an entire pitcher of orange juice in 2 minutes. Don't even get me started.

Sadly, that wasn't their worst offense today.

The girl comes to me a few minutes later and says, "Come to 206."

Umm... is there something I can help you with? Why do you need me to come to the room?

"Uhh... I don't know. My mom said come to the room."

As I turn the corner to get to the room, I hear it. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, HE HIT ME, MA'AM HE HIT ME. First off, don't call me ma'am. Second of all, I don't care.

I was totally confused about what happened because there was ice on the ground, water splattered everywhere, the lady's face was wet, towels sprayed all over the balcony (OUTSIDE!) and the lady was hitting the guy and he wasn't resisting. I take domestic violence seriously, but let me tell you why I had suspicions about this situation:

1. The room was registered to the guy's name. His info, his photo ID on file. This was only the second time I had ever seen the woman.
2. The first time I saw the woman was on Thursday night, she came to the lobby to stink it up with her greasy hair and booze breath to chat on her cell phone for an hour. Twenty minutes into her conversation, I had to ask her to leave because I was tired of her yelling and ending all her sentences with "NIGGUHHHHHH." I swear to the pagan gods, she put the most drawn-out obnoxious emphasis on the the last syllable of the N-word that's ever been spoken by anyone ever. I don't have personal issues with the N-word, but for serious, self-respecting people don't use it in public... not ending in -ER or -AH or -uhhhhhh or any such variation. However you choose to pronounce it, I think it says a lot about your character to be saying it at all.
3. I've dealt with the guy a lot, and the only ridiculous thing he's done in over a month of staying here was hitting on my friend/coworker. He called her cute, said that she "needed to know," and then left. Hardly the weirdest thing either of us has seen.

When I got to the room I asked all involved parties to calm the fuck down and talk to me like grown-ups, because at 7:30am I really don't have much tolerance for crybabies. I knew something was up when the woman asked me to call the cops for her because 1) there's a working phone in her room, and 2) she has a working cell phone IN HER HAND. Personal preference and legal issues keep me from being able to make domestic violence complaints on someone else's behalf; as a third party, I can only make complaints about noise or express my concerns about someone's safety, but to file an actual domestic violence complaint only the involved parties can do that. So yeah... no matter how hard you beg, I won't ever make that phone call (people think that if I call for them, they don't have to report their name or personal information. this is false). When I told the woman she had to call the cops herself, her demeanor changed entirely. She dropped the cops issue and decided to focus her efforts on getting the guy out of the room.

The only problem: from a legal standpoint, is was HIS room. If anyone had to leave, it would be her.

The man had registered the room in his name, gave his ID for registration, his phone number, and posted the deposit on his own. There were no notes in his guest file about having additional guests in his room (it was assumed seeing as though he paid for double beds) but he never added a second name for access or asked for a second key. Before this morning, I had no idea that this woman had been staying in that particular room.

The woman had made some poor decisions, she had been paying the weekly rent on the room with her own cash, but again... her name was never registered. We had a history of cash payments on this room but still only one registered name; our policy and the law in general agree that the woman didn't really have many rights in this situation.

Here's a note to the ladies: DON'T BE STUPID. The woman came to me after a few minutes of cooling down to try to persuade me to have some mercy. She thought that she was doing a good thing by paying her man's rent (I could not believe my fucking ears) and she pleaded for me not to kick her out. To be honest, I don't want to kick anyone out ever... figure it out amongst yourselves. But you made some bad choices with your money. You're dumb. I don't care.

After all the dust was settled, the truth finally came out: the woman's children were late for school, the man doesn't have a car (and from what I can tell didn't really take much responsibility in taking care of the kids... they weren't his). He tried to wake the woman so she could drive her kids to school. She wouldn't wake. He tried again. Nothing. Not thinking clearly, the man thought it would be a good idea to splash an entire bottle of water on this woman's face to wake her up. Sure, they do it in the movies. BUT OMG WHO DOES THAT IRL. Obviously, she did not take it well. I don't know if it was shock from being awoken in such a manner or if she's just naturally dramatic, but she started screaming domestic violence and then proceeded to... engage in domestic violence. SHE had hit him then chased after him with a bucket of ice that had half melted (thus the ice and water and towels everywhere).

The guy said he was just trying to get her up so she would take her kids to school.

The woman said she was tired and didn't appreciate being woken up like that.

Both fair points, with an extremely outrageous overreaction.

I suggested that they separate voluntarily (because 7:30 is way too early to be dealing with the cops). The man stays in his room, the woman paid for a new room. They're on opposite ends of the building and I'm having a zero tolerance policy on either of their bullshittery.

Lesson from today: don't waterboard your girlfriend to wake her up.

file this under:

WTF moments abound today.

First, a lady came to me with a mouth full of donut trying to have a serious exchange. Umm... swallow first? It's not like I approached her at an inopportune moment... SHE came to me. With a mouth full of donut. And once she cleared out her pie hole enough for me to understand her a bit, she shoved more donut inside. Seriously cow?

Powdered sugar all over my countertops. Thanks, lady.

Later today I'll be dealing with the Johnson County General Assistance Office for a guest who needs to use housing vouchers. To be totally honest, I'm shocked that this is the first time it's come up in five years.

Happy Monday.

thoughts on threats and violence.

Today's MVP (most vicious pig) award goes to:

That lady.

I don't know what her deal is, but hot damn.

First, she spent all last week complaining the the housekeepers were servicing her room when she didn't want it. She didn't want people touching her stuff.

Then over the weekend, she was complaining that her room hadn't been serviced. AS SHE REQUESTED. The weekend person told her that her shit was all over the place and the housekeeper can't service a room when a person's personal belongings are sprayed all over the place.

[Take a note next time you're in a hotel. Housekeeping will NEVER move your stuff. They have to clean around it. So, if you leave your suitcase on the bed, you're fucked.]

Then, she was pissed that there was no juice HALF AN HOUR after breakfast ended. Usually I'm pretty lax about shutting things down, I like to wait 10-15 minutes for those last-minute kind of jerks. But half an hour is no longer gracious, it's sloppy. Next time set an alarm, lady!

The next issue on her agenda was to accuse the hotel of screwing her out of a day. She kept saying "I checked in on a Sunday and paid for eight days, that means my checkout is Tuesday." No. This is how numbers on a calendar work: 8 days = 1 day + 1 week. Sunday + 1 day = Monday, Monday + 1 week = MONDAY. One week after Monday is Monday. There is no arguing with that, but oh holy hell she tried.

Then, she wanted a free day. She felt she should be comp'd "for all her troubles." Yeah... no.

Then, this is where things got ugly, she wanted to stay another day but she wasn't going to pay. She wanted to speak to the manager, but since we couldn't make that happen for her she insisted on staying without payment. Abso-fucking-lutely not. I got the "I'm a single mother with 2 kids, I have class, I can't pay, so I'm going to stay and you can't stop me" speech.

Funny thing is, I can stop her. I wonder if people realize that about hotel properties? It's not YOUR property, your rights are seriously limited. I don't like to flex my legal muscles, but the law is mostly on my side and I take threats seriously. She threw a pen at me and called me a bitch. I thought the bitch thing was funny, I told her "thank you" which really seemed to set her off, but I draw a very serious line when it comes to physical contact and the pen more than crossed it.

There's a certain degree of bullshittery that follows this job, but I have a seriously low threshold when dealing with threats of any nature, it's a slippery slope allowing any person at any time to treat me badly when I know first-hand how ugly things can get. I allow my guests exactly one chance to carry themselves respectably in my presence, and after that the smallest infractions are treated with a swift response.

Throw a pen at me, get a rap sheet. I don't fuck around.

Today's Most Vicious Pig gets to find that out the hard way.

on ethics and ethical codes.

For the love of God,

Please,

[to anyone who ever stays at a hotel ever]

{I really mean EVER... even if you read this 1,000 years from now}

do not, I repeat: DO NOT

wait until check-out time to report problems in your room.

Okay okay, I take that back (kinda). If it's a minor problem and it didn't affect your stay, then yeah... you can mention it at check-out. You probably think you're doing the hotel a favor (and you totally are, so thanks).

HOWEVER.

If it's big. If it's serious. If you think you deserve compensation for the diminished quality of your room, listen up:

DON'T WAIT UNTIL CHECK-OUT.

There is nothing anyone at the front desk can do for you. There is nothing management can do for you. Even if you got your entire room for entirely free, that will NEVER [ever] erase the bad feelings you had during your stay. So please,

please,

do yourself (and the hotel) a favor and report that shit STAT.

*****

Walked into work to find a stack of paper jammed into the fax machine: it was a district press release for a certain hotel chain that I will not name. Boss is a franchise owner and he gets these all the time, but never this thick. Never this important.

It was basically the minutes from the last meeting of the Board of Directors in which it was found that a certain someone had committed 11 violations against the corporation's code of ethics. Eleven violations and he still holds his job.

The details of the case are seeeeeeriously disturbing, not even taking into account the financial implications this will have to franchise owners. It sounds like a nasty legal battle, but I guess it hasn't gone public yet because all my Google searches have come up empty.

I'd hate to be the one to break this news to the world, so I'll stay mum on the details.

The lesson of this story is: damn I am glad I am not in management. Also, note to self: never join a board. Ever.

Since switching my interest to human resources, I've been tingling with excitement realizing how perfect this shit actually is for me. Lots of rules, a heavy dose of law, checklists galore. I am so glad to be done with the business-end of business.