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Lately at Elongated Hexagon Inn, we have begun writing "guest letters" once more. We're doing this because it's been discovered that out satisfaction ratings have been dropping, largely because the entire hotel has been infested with stink bugs since the fall. Granted, the entire region is infested with the little shits, because they're an invasive species that no one has yet quite figured out how to kill safely, but that is beside the point. Management was content to lose hundreds of dollars a week and sometimes thousands of dollars a month to the "Please Steal From Us" guarantees we had to issue to people upset about bugs in their rooms until one savvy traveler wrote about the issue both on Twitter and also on a popular online travel rating site. That certainly lit a fire under the asses of management, who swung into action and finally hired an exterminator who claimed to be able to deal with the problem. Then, for good measure, they decided that the way to repair the damage done by their benign neglect of the issue was to write smarmy letters to randomly-selected guests.
These letters are to be handwritten. We are to write them to guests we've made a "connection" with or, barring that, any old five who catch your eye. As I'm the night auditor, I rarely connect with guests. Connecting with one guest is too many as far as I'm concerned. Thus, I've been writing little thank-you's to the first five guests lucky enough to stay on the first floor, as their receipts are the first ones I come to when I'm folding them up so the security guard can stick them under their doors.
Two stories about that:
Gender-Bender!
We shall call the guest Lulabelle Murphy, because it was something equally feminine. I wrote a nice little note to Ms. Murphy, thanking her for her stay, hoping that her stay had been pleasant, and wishing her safe travels. In the morning, Mr. Lulabelle Murphy came to the front desk to extend his stay another four days. Mr. Lulabelle Murphy had biceps the size of cantaloupes, probably as a result of having been beaten up every day of his childhood as the result of having been given a woman's first name and eventually tiring of it. He was a good sport about it, electing not to mention it. Good man, Mr. Lulabelle.
Grumpy Old Man
This morning, a grumpy old man approached the front desk to ask when another of the front desk agents would be working again. I told him I didn't know because one, that was true, and two, we're not allowed to say after the debacle with Jersey Marge becoming infatuated with one of the male desk clerks and trying to give him her personal cell phone number.
This was not good enough for the grumpy old man, who asked if I was the manager. I said I was not, and that I was only the night auditor, and upon hearing this he replied sarcastically, "My mistake! I thought you were somebody who worked here!"
Then he sat down and bitched to his wife about my attitude loud enough for me to hear.
Then he came back up and asked after the desk clerk again. I told him again that I did not know when she would be working, and that we have two agents by that name and I did not even know which one he was referring to. This was also not good enough, and he asked if there was anyone else he could talk to who would know.
As it turned out there was, and she was signing in at that very moment. The grumpy old man, in fact, was my very last customer of the shift. It was literally seconds before my shift ended. The grumpy old man asked if there was a business card he could take, because he intended to write management to tell them what a wonderful job that agent he was asking after had done and also what a wonderful job I had done, the sarcastic bastard.
Then he went away and bitched to his wife some more.
Then he came back. By this time the other agent had arrived, and the grumpy old man approached her and asked her when the other desk agent would be working again. She told him she could not tell him due to policy, at which point the grumpy old man told her that he was retired Coast Guard and that if he was younger, he would have jumped the counter and throttled me because I was rude, I did not know my job, and if I'm going to be working with the public, I need to know how to do my job.
All that, for saying I did not know when she would be working again. Yes indeed, this is definitely the stable, level-headed sort of individual we need to give other employees' schedules to. All this because, I strongly suspect, he was one of the people that employee had written one of those goddamned guest letters to.
Bastard. I can't wait to see what he writes in his review of our property. It's three days into the guest letter requirement and already it's not worth the trouble it's causing.
These letters are to be handwritten. We are to write them to guests we've made a "connection" with or, barring that, any old five who catch your eye. As I'm the night auditor, I rarely connect with guests. Connecting with one guest is too many as far as I'm concerned. Thus, I've been writing little thank-you's to the first five guests lucky enough to stay on the first floor, as their receipts are the first ones I come to when I'm folding them up so the security guard can stick them under their doors.
Two stories about that:
Gender-Bender!
We shall call the guest Lulabelle Murphy, because it was something equally feminine. I wrote a nice little note to Ms. Murphy, thanking her for her stay, hoping that her stay had been pleasant, and wishing her safe travels. In the morning, Mr. Lulabelle Murphy came to the front desk to extend his stay another four days. Mr. Lulabelle Murphy had biceps the size of cantaloupes, probably as a result of having been beaten up every day of his childhood as the result of having been given a woman's first name and eventually tiring of it. He was a good sport about it, electing not to mention it. Good man, Mr. Lulabelle.
Grumpy Old Man
This morning, a grumpy old man approached the front desk to ask when another of the front desk agents would be working again. I told him I didn't know because one, that was true, and two, we're not allowed to say after the debacle with Jersey Marge becoming infatuated with one of the male desk clerks and trying to give him her personal cell phone number.
This was not good enough for the grumpy old man, who asked if I was the manager. I said I was not, and that I was only the night auditor, and upon hearing this he replied sarcastically, "My mistake! I thought you were somebody who worked here!"
Then he sat down and bitched to his wife about my attitude loud enough for me to hear.
Then he came back up and asked after the desk clerk again. I told him again that I did not know when she would be working, and that we have two agents by that name and I did not even know which one he was referring to. This was also not good enough, and he asked if there was anyone else he could talk to who would know.
As it turned out there was, and she was signing in at that very moment. The grumpy old man, in fact, was my very last customer of the shift. It was literally seconds before my shift ended. The grumpy old man asked if there was a business card he could take, because he intended to write management to tell them what a wonderful job that agent he was asking after had done and also what a wonderful job I had done, the sarcastic bastard.
Then he went away and bitched to his wife some more.
Then he came back. By this time the other agent had arrived, and the grumpy old man approached her and asked her when the other desk agent would be working again. She told him she could not tell him due to policy, at which point the grumpy old man told her that he was retired Coast Guard and that if he was younger, he would have jumped the counter and throttled me because I was rude, I did not know my job, and if I'm going to be working with the public, I need to know how to do my job.
All that, for saying I did not know when she would be working again. Yes indeed, this is definitely the stable, level-headed sort of individual we need to give other employees' schedules to. All this because, I strongly suspect, he was one of the people that employee had written one of those goddamned guest letters to.
Bastard. I can't wait to see what he writes in his review of our property. It's three days into the guest letter requirement and already it's not worth the trouble it's causing.
Yet another Brilliant Idea™ from Corporate, whose motto is, "You must do it because we don't have to!" 
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