Sunday, March 27, 2011

They're evolving.

Now there is a WASP flying around the lobby.

Now it's in the elevator.

There is a wasp in the elevator.

...Now it's on a curtain.

Ya know, when I worked in a lab a little while back it was part of my job description to immediately kill any six- or eight-legged pests.  I was required to squish cockroaches.  When you consider that I was also required to scrape up chicken poop, get pecked and bitten, and hose out mouse and finch crap, it doesn't seem that bad.  I actually liked that job, but if there's one task in life I suck horribly at, it's squashing scary bugs.

Yes, the cockroaches were scary.  They flew at you.

In any case, I am so fucking happy with this job it isn't even funny.  I mean yes, I should probably kill the wasp if it goes in the elevator again.  That's just plain scary.  Guests could take the stairs, but what if they didn't see it in time and it stung everyone to death and one guy was allergic to wasp stings and it stung him in the eye and he ran out of the death-filled elevator screaming bloody murder and I got fired for endangering/killing the guests?

I have my newspaper rolled up and taped like the bug-destroying weapon of justice it is.  Hopefully the wasp will find his way out before breakfast.  If not, maybe a man will come in and kill the buggy for me.  :)

I am an optimist!

-Wednesday (hates the bugs that come with spring time)

Thursday, March 24, 2011

And Then the Police Showed Up and Arrested the Fly

So this woman walks into our hotel at 2:30 AM asking for a pay phone.  We don't have one, and I don't know if she's a guest or not, so I point to where our lobby phones are.  She's very polite and goes to make her phone call.  She peeks out from around the corner to ask what hotel we are ( not a guest!) and I tell her.  She goes back and completes her phone call.  She comes back into the lobby and makes a little small talk, but mostly seems like she's waiting for something.  Makes sense.  Probably needs a ride.

And then the police show up.

The police show up and remain in the little entrance section of the hotel, not saying a word to me.  They talk with the woman...then they leave.

Meanwhile, the piercing alarm in the back office that goes off every time a 911 call is made from a hotel phone will.  Not.  Shut.  Up.

She hangs out in the lobby for awhile, continuing to be polite, uses the restroom, waits for them to come back.  Eventually they do and they talk to her inside for a second, when I finally get my chance to ask a copper what is going on - because we do have to keep a record of this stuff.  He doesn't have much to say, just that somebody smashed her phone so she came here to call the cops.  That's all I got.  That's why this stupid alarm won't stop going off.  It took them an hour of sitting with two cop cars outside our hotel, four cops, all talking to this woman before they finally left.  Oh, and they mentioned we had a "geyser" in parking lot about 20 feet high.

And there is a horsefly the size of my fucking hand on the wall right behind me.

I can't stop watching it move.  I'm too scared to squash it.  La mosca muerta, those fuckers don't die.

Of course, it could just be the largest house fly on record EVER...but guys...I can see its fucking mouth.  I'm too afraid to take my eyes off of it for more than a couple of seconds.  This thing wants to eat me.

I have kind of been petrified of biting flies ever since I watched one take a strip out of a girl's leg at camp as a child.

Flies are the fucking devil, yo.


Saturday, March 12, 2011

Two Russian Guys Walk into a Bar...

Or they tried to, anyways.

These two Russian fellas walked in at a little before 3:30 AM and asked when breakfast started - I told them 6:30 AM.  They looked at each other for a sec, and walked back toward the front door saying they were going to take a walk for 3 hours then come back for breakfast.

They walk back in a half hour later, arms out, saying "It's closed!"

"What's closed?"

"The Hilton!"

"...The whole Hilton?"

"No, the front desk is open, but the BAR is closed!"

"...yes sir, it's state law to stop serving alcohol at 2 AM."

"...That's a stupid law."

"Yeah, I know a lotta people who'd like to change it, heh."

"You should tell Bush to change it."  *walks off to elevators.*

Oh my god, I laughed for like five minutes straight after the elevator doors closed.  So many things were wrong with that, but they were so hilariously cheerful about it.  Besides, accents.


Friday, March 11, 2011

...It IS Friday, isn't it?

You know how a little while back I walked the halls with my eyes closed while delivering bills and newspapers?

Well, today was walk-the-halls-like-I'm-America's-Next-Top-Model.  I did my little turn on the catwalk.  On the catwalk.  On the catwalk.  Yeah, I did my little turn on the catwalk.

Next time I think it shall be walk-the-halls-like-I'm-lost, or walk-the-halls-like-I'm-in-a-rainstorm-with-hurricane-force-winds-and-a-broken-umbrella.  I don't want to know what anyone who might be peeking out their peepholes must think when I tango/gallop/meander by.

But why the hell would they be looking out their peepholes in the middle of the night?

That picture has absolutely nothing to do with what I was talking about.

ANYWAYS - it's Friday...and nothing bad has happened yet.  That's right, Fate, consider yourself tempted.  Of course, there's much more of Friday yet to come.

Maybe the universe is doing this to me because it knows it's just as bad to make me expect something horrible all day long and not know when it's coming.  It knows I will spend my Friday in fear.  Well, not all of Friday, I'm going to be going to sleep in a couple of hours.

Suck it, Fate.

(I think I'm tired again)

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

It's Your Fault

*ring ring*
"Front desk, this is Wednesday, how may I assist you?"
"Yeah, can I have some ice cream?"
(...I feel like we have some in the back freezer, but it always has heavy stuff on it, so I never look...)  "Yes ma'am, I believe we do have ice cream down here.  We can't deliver it to your room, though, you would need to come get it in the lobby."
"Oh.  Well...why not?  Do you not offer room service?"  (sounds like I just told her that her puppy died)
"No, ma'am, we don't."
"Well why not?"
"'s not our policy?"  (I'm so confused...I didn't realize not delivering it was a dealbreaker)
"Ohhh.  That's not good."
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Okay?  Alright ma'am, you have a great night."
"Byeeeee...but it's your fault...buh byeee."

It took all my effort to postpone laughing until after I'd hung up the phone.  If she'd said it jokingly it would have just been, well, normal.  Goofy, even.  But she was sincerely deflated and upset.  She sounded like by telling her she had to come down to get the ice cream I'd popped her balloon of ice cream-based happiness.  And she was not happy that I had popped her balloon.

She was not happy at all.

(who still does not understand how "it's your fault" fits into the middle of a goodbye)

Tuesday, March 1, 2011


There is this ADORABLE family sitting at the bar eating breakfast, and this little kid asks me very politely (he's maybe 2 or 3 years old?) how much the candy bar costs.

I was going to ring it up, but it was SO BLINDINGLY CUTE that I put it on guest satisfaction instead and told him it was FREE.  How weird was that, that he picked the ONLY free candy bar we had?  What a lucky guy!

He turned to his mum, held up three fingers, and happily exclaimed:

"THREE!!!  IT COSTS THREE DOLLARS!"  Smiling like I'd told him he could have a million candy bars.

His mom explained that free meant zero dollars and he got EVEN HAPPIER.

Then he ate it and even said thank you.  <3