I'm Psychic.

I wrote Hitchcock's The Birds, and now they're all dying wherever and that's all me, baby.

Not really.  BUT.  Wouldn't that be cool?  Then it would be Wednesday's The Birds.

That's not what this post is actually about.  I really am psychic.  This evening I was kinda daydreaming and thinking about how I should probably check out the rooms some more because I don't actually know what all is in them.  What if someone calls and asks if there was a safe in the room?  I'd have no clue!

I thought about how I'd probably just attempt to dodge the question by offering to store items behind the counter if there wasn't a satisfactory spot in the room.

Then this fellow comes in the lobby and stops on his way to the elevator to ask me if the room has a safe in it.  NO LIE.  So I tell him that I am not sure, but that I can store things behind the counter for him if he'd like.  He explains that they're a bunch of really important passports and papers and asked if we had a safe we could put them in in the back (we don't).  Dodge dodged!  Sad.

So I'm psychic but not psychic enough to see into the rooms with my mind's eye.

I wonder if we have safes in the rooms or not?

-Wednesday

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