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You may accuse me of many things, but bigotry in general and racism in particular are not among them. I say that because twice now, guests have lost their respective shit due to some perceived slight and have accused us of just that.
The first one was in full swing when I came in to work yesterday night. I wasn't there to witness whatever it was that set this Black guy off, but it's my understanding that asking for his identification was in some way racist. Problem was, he and his wife did not share a last name, which was why there was confusion. He was going bugshit on the manager on duty, who placated him as much as possible and settled him down.
Of course, he got the Please Steal From Us guarantee.
Last night was my turn. We had one single, solitary room left to sell, and one reservation left to check in. The manager on duty, same as yesterday night, was up front and we were checking on that reservation because it was a bed-and-breakfast package from a local tourist attraction that is a very big deal. Also, though this is reputedly a luxury family of brands, we employ a Third World computer system that goes down about as often as a truck stop whore, and which goes down overnight every Saturday. If you don't get that audit done before 1AM, you have to wait until about 5AM to do it.
Thus, we were rather concerned about that last reservation. Anyway, a Black man comes up to ask if we have anything, then tells us that he wants to redeem his loyalty program points. That's something we can't do through our front desk computers, and which must instead be done through the loyalty program itself. You can call them or do it online, but either way, they do it. Not us.
We told him as much, and in response he thrust his driver's license at us, incredulous that he might need to go out to his car to retrieve his cell phone to make the reservation. We offered the house phone and I told him how to dial to get out and dial the number. This seemed beyond him, so I offered to dial it for him, and did.
Then comes the fun part. He made his reservation for our very last room, a smoking room as it turned out. Then, despite the fact he couldn't dial the loyalty program number, he was definitely able to hang up and dial the complaint line. And so he spent the next half an hour tattling to them about us. I stood here at my computer and listened to him tell baldfaced lies about my manager and myself, both of whom were named -- although he called the manager by the wrong name three times because he was reading off our business card and ignoring the large sign at the other end of the desk with the name of the manager on duty on it.
He said he was not greeted -- a lie.
He said we did not offer to help him -- a lie.
He said that we looked at him as though "I was just someone off the street."
...Which leads me to the punchline. He was a Cubic Zirconium member of our loyalty program, the highest tier there is. Apparently we were supposed to divine this by reading his holy aura, because just looking at your driver's license sure as hell isn't going to tell me anything like that about you.
While this was going on, I went ahead and checked him in, and sent my security guard to spray the room with air freshener. During a quiet time, I asked the guest for his car information, and gave him more fodder for his complaint. When the poor person charged with listening to him whine came back on the line, he made sure to tell them I was interrupting him.
Then came the kicker, when he told the complaint line that he felt we were "biased," at which point my blood began to boil and is only now, roughly four hours later beginning to cool. Then, once he was off the phone and checked in, he looked at our little case of snacks and drinks that we offer to our Brass and Cubic Zirconium members, said he would go get his things, then come back for "my Cubic Zirconium member water and nuts."
His.
His. As if this were some great entitlement and not in actuality a pittance of food and drink for people who are too stupid to stop at a gas station.
And then, all smiles at having brought the wrath of corporate down upon us -- myself by name and my manager by the wrong name -- off he went to his room, damn near whistling a jaunty tune.
Bias. That goddamn, shit-sucking, mother-ass-fucker.
The first one was in full swing when I came in to work yesterday night. I wasn't there to witness whatever it was that set this Black guy off, but it's my understanding that asking for his identification was in some way racist. Problem was, he and his wife did not share a last name, which was why there was confusion. He was going bugshit on the manager on duty, who placated him as much as possible and settled him down.
Of course, he got the Please Steal From Us guarantee.
Last night was my turn. We had one single, solitary room left to sell, and one reservation left to check in. The manager on duty, same as yesterday night, was up front and we were checking on that reservation because it was a bed-and-breakfast package from a local tourist attraction that is a very big deal. Also, though this is reputedly a luxury family of brands, we employ a Third World computer system that goes down about as often as a truck stop whore, and which goes down overnight every Saturday. If you don't get that audit done before 1AM, you have to wait until about 5AM to do it.
Thus, we were rather concerned about that last reservation. Anyway, a Black man comes up to ask if we have anything, then tells us that he wants to redeem his loyalty program points. That's something we can't do through our front desk computers, and which must instead be done through the loyalty program itself. You can call them or do it online, but either way, they do it. Not us.
We told him as much, and in response he thrust his driver's license at us, incredulous that he might need to go out to his car to retrieve his cell phone to make the reservation. We offered the house phone and I told him how to dial to get out and dial the number. This seemed beyond him, so I offered to dial it for him, and did.
Then comes the fun part. He made his reservation for our very last room, a smoking room as it turned out. Then, despite the fact he couldn't dial the loyalty program number, he was definitely able to hang up and dial the complaint line. And so he spent the next half an hour tattling to them about us. I stood here at my computer and listened to him tell baldfaced lies about my manager and myself, both of whom were named -- although he called the manager by the wrong name three times because he was reading off our business card and ignoring the large sign at the other end of the desk with the name of the manager on duty on it.
He said he was not greeted -- a lie.
He said we did not offer to help him -- a lie.
He said that we looked at him as though "I was just someone off the street."
...Which leads me to the punchline. He was a Cubic Zirconium member of our loyalty program, the highest tier there is. Apparently we were supposed to divine this by reading his holy aura, because just looking at your driver's license sure as hell isn't going to tell me anything like that about you.
While this was going on, I went ahead and checked him in, and sent my security guard to spray the room with air freshener. During a quiet time, I asked the guest for his car information, and gave him more fodder for his complaint. When the poor person charged with listening to him whine came back on the line, he made sure to tell them I was interrupting him.
Then came the kicker, when he told the complaint line that he felt we were "biased," at which point my blood began to boil and is only now, roughly four hours later beginning to cool. Then, once he was off the phone and checked in, he looked at our little case of snacks and drinks that we offer to our Brass and Cubic Zirconium members, said he would go get his things, then come back for "my Cubic Zirconium member water and nuts."
His.
His. As if this were some great entitlement and not in actuality a pittance of food and drink for people who are too stupid to stop at a gas station.
And then, all smiles at having brought the wrath of corporate down upon us -- myself by name and my manager by the wrong name -- off he went to his room, damn near whistling a jaunty tune.
Bias. That goddamn, shit-sucking, mother-ass-fucker.
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