Bad Mojo

This night is full of it.

Everyone is in a pissy mood, and I'm trying my hardest not to let it rub off on me.  Breathe.  Breeeeathe.  Get home and drink.

So here's the deal this time:

I come in for my shift and the last shift lets me know that there's a fellow requesting a shuttle ride to the airport at 5:30 AM.  Unfortunately, we don't offer the shuttle that early, and at 11 PM at night (with a 4:30 AM wakeup call) it's too late for me to call up to his room and inform him.  SO.  I do the next best thing and call a cab to pick him up in the morning instead.  It's not ideal...but it's a way to the airport.

There's a legitimate reason the shuttle isn't available that early.  For starters, the shuttle is a van with the hotel logo on the side.  Certain people are allowed to drive this van.  Those people are awake in the daytime.  Without prior arrangements, no one is here at 5:30 AM except moi, and I can't exactly drop everything at the front desk to run a guest to the airport in the company vehicle.

So yeah.  Kinda no wiggle room on that.  Nothin' I can do.

And did I know this fellow would be angry about it?  Absolutely.  I guess I just wasn't REALLY prepared.

You know...actually...I'm too frustrated to pen it all down.  Let's put it this way.  He came down ten minutes early, implying he was already checked out because he received his receipt (bill) under the door.  I explain about the shuttle/taxi situation, after which point he becomes extremely upset, specifically at the last shift.  I tried explaining that they were new, tried pointing out that he still had a ride, but all I got was that he'd have made other arrangements had they told him that.  He insisted that it didn't matter that they were new, saying that he's been a teacher for 46 years and he teaches people like that.

I was so shocked at that, that I actually asked him specifically - people like what?

He replied, people who don't get it done.  I tried making conversation about teaching, asking him what level he taught.  He said all of them, and when I started to say that my mother taught high school and they frequently gave her students that- he cut me off saying that it didn't matter, people who don't get it done, don't get it done.

That part pisses me off more than anything.  More than him coming back in repetitively to ask me where the late taxi was or for different taxi business cards.  More than him implying that there was somehow something I should be doing to make the ride come faster, raising his eyebrows and ducking his head at me, throwing out his arms.  More than his other arrangements, how angry he was, anything he had to say.  That haughty assumption that they were all-around fuck-ups because they didn't know something and made an honest mistake because of it.  It wasn't a mistake in his eyes - it was a sign of total failure.  They were defined in his eyes as things, objects, lazy, not driven, losers.  I see this in teachers a lot.  They stop relating.  Students who don't turn in their homework assignments, who stop trying because they don't care, because they're scared, because they're shamed, because they're told they're stupid - become things that are defined as stupid, instead of people.  To this old man, the last shift was composed of two things.  Those two things dropped the ball, and he feels he should have expected it, and that they would continue to drop the ball for the rest of their lives because they aren't living, breathing, thinking, learning people anymore.

I just hate that.

Yeah...I did get all of that from a rude, five minute, half-heated conversation.  I'm good at observing people.

In any case, he got his damned ride from a late taxi driver who is probably still reeling from whatever black, sticky, abysmal atmosphere he bubbled from his face hole.  God.  I hate people who DO that - who fill the room with dark, depressing, condescending poison.  Right before he left, when he'd come to a pause in ranting about people like that, I told him well, thank goodness we have teachers, right?

I think he knew.  I hope he knew.

The girl from last night came in just as he was packing his bags into the taxi.  I warned her so she could hide in the back until he'd gotten in.  I don't even want to think about how he'd have laid into her had he seen her again before leaving.  The world doesn't need bullshit like that.

Some people never grow out of tantrums.  I hope his world is brighter at its baseline.

-An extremely worn out and frustrated Wednesday.
TGIF.

P.S. - reading over it now, I realize that in skipping large chunks of the action I didn't really portray his behavior.  I'm too tired to go through and edit.  Just know he was pretty loud, rude, and pissed off.  Blah.  Just trust me.  -.-

Respect the Pizza (Delivery Chick)

We recommend a lot of business to a certain awesome local pizza shop, so usually when someone comes down and doesn't want to pay and arm and a leg for a personal pan we go ahead and give them the number.

The pizza shop really does rock.  For realsies.

For serious.

Anyways.  A couple of teenage boys (eh...15ish?) come down the elevator, cell phones out, and ask about what food we have.  I give 'em the rundown and mention the pizza place, and they decide to order a pizza for delivery.  I give them the number, and they pause texting long enough to call it (I kid you not - they texted the ENTIRE time they were talking to me, pausing several times for a long silence while they clicked away and I just kinda stood there...).

Twenty minutes or so later a chick walks in carrying their pizza and they hand her some cash.  As to be expected, she hands them the change.  They make no eye contact, say nothing, and start putting it away.  So after several seconds of just standing there...she heads out.

THEY NEVER TIPPED HER.

There are a lot of places where tipping is ambiguous - but it's pretty damned rude not to tip your pizza delivery person.  I mean...they drive their own cars for goodness sakes.  That pizza probably ran five red lights to get to you hot, fresh, and on time, lovingly delivered by an underpaid pizza slave.  In this pizza shop, they even still have their souls.

Yeah...really.  This pizza place rocks.

Anyhoo, the kids act like she stormed off without a goodbye.  I guess they were counting to make sure she gave the right change?  They're offended.  They're upset because THEY didn't tip HER.  Ah...teenagers.

So I take my cell phone in the back and call the place to get her name.  I'll drop her off a few bucks tomorrow afternoon.  The folks who work there are too cool to be ripped off, even if it wasn't exactly a huge sum.

Maybe it'll make her day.  :)

-Wednesday

50% Humidity Cappuccino, Please

I'm no barista.

I do, however, LOVE serving drinks.  I like serving alcoholic drinks, I like serving non-alcoholic drinks, I love making people coffee - hell, I like pouring my fiance milk.

I dunno why.

Anyhoo, because I am no pro, I do not know everything about coffee.  I sure wish I did, but alas, this padawan is not yet a coffee jedi.

So when a guest came down at 4 AM and asked me for a coffee, no, a cappuccino, NO, a WET cappuccino, I was a little lost.  When I asked him what it was, which is to say, of what he wanted his coffee to consist, he said about 1/3 coffee, 1/3 milk, and 1/3 foam.  I don't know what everyone else was taught, but I was under the impression that was a normal cappuccino.

So that's what I made.  I made a cappuccino.  1:1:1.  When I asked him what kind of milk he'd like me to use, 2 percent or skim, he said "normal."

I thought that was a little bit rude to the milk, so I pointed out that both are perfectly normal.

I think he meant whole milk.

Anyways, I had to find out what the heck a wet cappuccino was once he went back upstairs, and it turns out it's between a latte and cappuccino in amount of foam.  Eh, I gave him specifically what he asked for, but in the future I'll know what people mean when they mistake me for a starfucks girl.  It was still fun to make, weird as the encounter was.  I rarely make capps anymore, most people want regular coffee or lattes (which I am killer good at making).  Fun practice!  :)

Today's LOL comes with a recipe:



Ingredients:
- 2 shots espresso
- chocolate milk, foamed lightly to mix it and steamed/rolled to temp.

Directions:
1.  Combine.
2.  Drink.

Mwah!  Delizioso!

-Wednesday

Just Wear Your Birthday Suit

Hope everyone's having a great December!  It's flying by for me.

So for the most part it's quiet here at the LOL Hotel.  Nothing has really been happening since Thanksgiving.  Tonight, though, a man called down to the front desk to ask me where he could buy a suit.  Here's about how it went:

Me:  Front desk, this is Wednesday, how may I assist you?

Dude: Hi Wednesday.  I made a terrible mistake and left my business suit in (city four hours away).  Would you happen to know where the nearest place would be to buy a suit?

Okay, now at this point I need to explain something.  It starts out a reasonable request, but there is a severe distance in worlds here, and I believe he sensed it by the end of the conversation.  It took me about 2 seconds to notice.  You see, I get my business attire second hand or at the least expensive place I can find it.  I am a poor lady.  I am an EXTREMELY poor lady.  I have never really been well off, and I've never set foot in a store selling suits to men.  So far from my radar is the matter of suit stores, I have no idea whether or not they exist in this town, or what they might be called, or when in the world they might open.  No clue.  None at all.

Me:  Does it need to be a full-out suit store, or would something like W*lmart or T*rget work?

Dude: Wellll, I try to avoid W*lmart when possible.  See, I need something that will be open before 9 or so.  (good luck, buddy)

Me:  I know there's a Target down Blah, but I'm not really sure what else would be open that early.

Dude: (whose tone is beginning to grow impatient) Do you have a (store name meaningless to me) or a (also meaningless)?

Me:  I'm honestly not sure, let me take a look (google to the rescue!)
Dude: Well, I suppose I could look, too (yeah, you could.  but you won't)

Me:  I don't see either of those...

Dude:  Well, where would you go to buy something for your boyfriends, Wednesday?

Raise your hand if you think that question is rude!  But maybe he didn't mean it in a rude way, maybe he just wants a suit and doesn't want to use the internet by himself, even though the employee very obviously can not help.

Me:  My boyfriend isn't really the suit wearing type, sir.  I'm really not certain.  Do you want directions to Target?  (No, seriously, he isn't.  Nerds are immune to suits and do not want ties as gifts.)
Dude: Well, I'm not old, you know, I'm only 31, I still have plenty of life in me.  (What?)  Where do the cool kids go?

Raise your hand if you thought THAT was rude!

Me:  I'm sorry, sir, I really don't know-

Dude: Oh Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday...

Oh shit.  I know that voice, and I know that demeaning tone.  I'm about 90% certain the caller is the d-bag who drunkenly chewed me out a month or two ago for not being able to pull a reservation out of my ass.  It all flooded back.  The condescending repetition of my name, the nonstop questioning of my experience and personal capabilities, the insinuation that I might be a 2-dimensional idiot going nowhere in life ripe to be stepped on and spoken down to...

Dude: Wednesday, Wednesday, surely you must know some place.

Me:  I'm sorry, sir, I can give you directions to Target.  (I can't pull a business suit store out of my ass any more than I could a reservation password)

Dude: Well, goodnight then I guess.

He calls back two minutes later while I'm juggling a guy who needs a new key, a check-in, and a man who wants a cinnamon roll with icing (it only becomes busy in clumps), to ask me if there was a Macy's in the mall.

I can count the number of times I've been to this mall on my fingers and toes.  I can count the number of times I've been to a Macy's on one hand.  I don't know, but I go with "yes" and move on with my life.



That really wasn't an epic story or anything, it just irked me.  That conversation went on minutes past when it should have.  If I don't have an answer for you, and you're too lazy to problem solve one out for yourself, keeping me on the phone isn't going to make me pull a solution out of a hat.  I'm truly not hiding the answer from you, waiting for you ask a certain number of times or ways.

I guess I should read up on the local shops so I know what to tell people.  Usually they just ask for a pharmacy, grocery store, food joints, or bars - and I know where all of those are.

Gah.  I can't shake him repeating my name over, and over, and over.

-Wednesday
(who is only poised when you're looking)

This is a lame...

...excuse for a post...but it seemed like it'd been awhile.  Actually I was going to write about Thanksgiving, which was epic in its weirdness, but this is just as good, right?

Maybe I'll get around to writing about Turkey Day later, but I'm half-assing everything this week in an effort to put some kind of focus into my finals (which are due tonight!  Yipes!)

See ya!
-Wednesday