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Well, it seems official -- tourist season has begun roughly two months early this year. Ordinarily, we don't have to put up with the levels of weirdness experienced yesterday until Memorial Day weekend and afterward. But there it was, all splayed out, in full view of God, the queen, and her underpants.
The first problem was that our housekeepers were slacking off while the boss was out of town. She gets back today and things will undoubtedly improve, but while she was gone, it seemed as though the housekeepers were so stupid that it was a miracle they could walk upright. This was evidenced by literally hundreds of towels piled up in the laundry room. And where should they have been instead? Perhaps... in the rooms? Pshaw! What nonsense. Who ever heard of putting towels in the rooms? I mean, it's not like the guests will complain, after all.
However, the stupidity reached an ugly head yesterday. Apparently, the last person to occupy a particular room took a dump on the bedspread. The housekeeper did not notice this, and changed the sheets, then remade the bed. The next person to check in sat down on the bedspread and befouled their clothing. They were not happy, to say the least, although I think that I managed to defuse the situation enough so that there won't be any screaming at checkout in the morning.
Meanwhile, one lock broke, another forgot which door it belonged to, no fewer than twenty remote controls went missing, we ran out of bleach, some poor but nice person politely pointed out that their shower curtain was covered with mold so advanced that it appeared to trying to form rudimentary syllables and have a chat with them, and the Starbucks bimbo fell down the stairs.
Then, all day yesterday, a woman kept calling at intervals to ask if her husband was there, or if we expected him in. He wasn't there, and wasn't expected. At all. The last time she called, she told me that when (not if) I saw him, I needed to tell him to call his wife because she was going to kill herself. This meant I had to ask a nice couple to wait a moment while I called the police. They were from California, and the look on their face when my Southern politeness automatically kicked in was priceless.
Me: "I'm sorry, but would you mind waiting just a moment, please? That lady on the phone just threatened suicide, and I'll need to call the police."
Them:
"Um... No, go right ahead."
Me: "Thank you so much. I'll be right with you."
Them:
Me: (after talking with the cops) "Thank you for your patience. Now, you were asking about a suite and I happen to have one left. The rate is $99.95 plus tax. Would you like to take a look at it to make sure it will suit you?"
Them:
That, I believe, is what they mean when they say you're good in a crisis. Ought to bode well for me when I go about applying for that job at the rehab center, I'd think.
The first problem was that our housekeepers were slacking off while the boss was out of town. She gets back today and things will undoubtedly improve, but while she was gone, it seemed as though the housekeepers were so stupid that it was a miracle they could walk upright. This was evidenced by literally hundreds of towels piled up in the laundry room. And where should they have been instead? Perhaps... in the rooms? Pshaw! What nonsense. Who ever heard of putting towels in the rooms? I mean, it's not like the guests will complain, after all.
However, the stupidity reached an ugly head yesterday. Apparently, the last person to occupy a particular room took a dump on the bedspread. The housekeeper did not notice this, and changed the sheets, then remade the bed. The next person to check in sat down on the bedspread and befouled their clothing. They were not happy, to say the least, although I think that I managed to defuse the situation enough so that there won't be any screaming at checkout in the morning.
Meanwhile, one lock broke, another forgot which door it belonged to, no fewer than twenty remote controls went missing, we ran out of bleach, some poor but nice person politely pointed out that their shower curtain was covered with mold so advanced that it appeared to trying to form rudimentary syllables and have a chat with them, and the Starbucks bimbo fell down the stairs.
Then, all day yesterday, a woman kept calling at intervals to ask if her husband was there, or if we expected him in. He wasn't there, and wasn't expected. At all. The last time she called, she told me that when (not if) I saw him, I needed to tell him to call his wife because she was going to kill herself. This meant I had to ask a nice couple to wait a moment while I called the police. They were from California, and the look on their face when my Southern politeness automatically kicked in was priceless.
Me: "I'm sorry, but would you mind waiting just a moment, please? That lady on the phone just threatened suicide, and I'll need to call the police."
Them:
"Um... No, go right ahead."Me: "Thank you so much. I'll be right with you."
Them:
Me: (after talking with the cops) "Thank you for your patience. Now, you were asking about a suite and I happen to have one left. The rate is $99.95 plus tax. Would you like to take a look at it to make sure it will suit you?"
Them:
That, I believe, is what they mean when they say you're good in a crisis. Ought to bode well for me when I go about applying for that job at the rehab center, I'd think.
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