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So, this happened a few months back, but has stayed in my mind ever since. I was working the afternoon shift, which I hate to do because check ins are a nightmare, as you shall soon see.
Anyway, I was doing a pretty good job, but was a bit nervous, because I was the only one there, except for the maids finishing up in the laundry room. I had a few check ins, and we had some rooms available so if a check in blathered about not liking his/her room, they had plenty of options.
A young, in his early thirties white man check in comes in. He was stooped over and stayed so throughout our entire conversation, not because he had a bad back or was old, but because of the four screaming young brats around his feet, they couldn't have been more than four years old. His wife was waiting outside with the baby.
As I watched, the minute they entered, the youngsters started throwing themselves on the floor, pulling the leaves off our potted plants, jumping on the couch lobby, pulling the pillows off it and such, playing with the computers, kicking the stands, while screaming. My jaw hit the floor and stayed there, but not just because of their behaivor, but because of the guy's attitude. He said merely, "Hi, check in?"
I pulled myself together. "Last name?"
We proceeded as usual. Father of the Year then insists that someone promised him that he would get adjoining rooms, one for his brats, and one for him and his wife, I assumed.
It was not set up that way and looking for adjoining rooms takes time, thanks to our crappy computer system. I could hear the angels hollering. I considered telling him to rein them in, but looking at his harrassed, sweaty red face, I faltered, aka I felt sorry for him. He would say casually, "Don't do that, Junior!" over his shoulder often, of course Junior paid him not one speck of attention.
Their screaming was giving me a headache. I finally found adjoining rooms, and by then, the father was harrumphing and tapping his fingers and toes, looking angrily, oh no, not at his angels, but at me, for not having the rooms quicker enough.
Finally I gave him his keys and the reg card to sign. He signed and grabbed the keys without a word of thanks and left with his brats, and I swear the noise level went down a few hundred decibels.
Ah, peace.
Zen. Buddha.
But that's not all from Father of the Year!
A few minutes later, he calls from the room and asks for a crib. Of course. Why didn't I think of it before? The problem was, the maintenence man, who usually does the deliveries, was off that day and the head maid was covering for him, per management. Whaaaa??? How's a maid supposed to fix toilets, heaters, a/c, TVs? I doubted she knew. I thought it was a dumb management decision, but oh well. If a guest gets mad because she couldn't, it wasn't my fault. Management was well aware of this and that's all I cared about.
Anyway, I get her and tell her to send a crib up. She says okay. I think everything's all well, and then I get another call from the guy. Where is the crib? Turns out, the maid is still searching the closets on every floor for one. I tell him so and apologize... He calls back every five minutes, getting angrier and angrier. "My poor baby's already asleep by now!" I could hear the brats' noise in the background, so how the poor baby fell asleep in that din, I could never fathom.
Those children are still screaming at the tops of their lungs. I'm starting to worry about the noise bothering other guests...
It gets so bad that I have to leave the front desk to find the maid, luckily I run into her in the elevator. (BTW, we do have walkie talkies, but they suck, and she doesn't speak much English or very loudly.) She shows me the only crib she could find: a BROKEN one.
Somehow I know that the guy's is NOT going to be happy with this, so I quickly try to fix it. No luck. There's nothing left for me to do. I have to give him it.
Guy is furious. He starts yelling at me over his kids, a feat, really, and Lady Luck strikes me and I'm able to fix the crib right then and there.
Guy shuts up, and before he slams the door in my face, I can see his kids just tearing the hotel room up, just TEARING it up, jumping on the bed, kicking the TV, throwing their little selves on the floor. At that point, I thank God I don't have kids.
God, man, use a freaking condom! LOL I think I'll stick to audit...
Anyway, I was doing a pretty good job, but was a bit nervous, because I was the only one there, except for the maids finishing up in the laundry room. I had a few check ins, and we had some rooms available so if a check in blathered about not liking his/her room, they had plenty of options.
A young, in his early thirties white man check in comes in. He was stooped over and stayed so throughout our entire conversation, not because he had a bad back or was old, but because of the four screaming young brats around his feet, they couldn't have been more than four years old. His wife was waiting outside with the baby.
As I watched, the minute they entered, the youngsters started throwing themselves on the floor, pulling the leaves off our potted plants, jumping on the couch lobby, pulling the pillows off it and such, playing with the computers, kicking the stands, while screaming. My jaw hit the floor and stayed there, but not just because of their behaivor, but because of the guy's attitude. He said merely, "Hi, check in?"
I pulled myself together. "Last name?"
We proceeded as usual. Father of the Year then insists that someone promised him that he would get adjoining rooms, one for his brats, and one for him and his wife, I assumed.
It was not set up that way and looking for adjoining rooms takes time, thanks to our crappy computer system. I could hear the angels hollering. I considered telling him to rein them in, but looking at his harrassed, sweaty red face, I faltered, aka I felt sorry for him. He would say casually, "Don't do that, Junior!" over his shoulder often, of course Junior paid him not one speck of attention.
Their screaming was giving me a headache. I finally found adjoining rooms, and by then, the father was harrumphing and tapping his fingers and toes, looking angrily, oh no, not at his angels, but at me, for not having the rooms quicker enough.
Finally I gave him his keys and the reg card to sign. He signed and grabbed the keys without a word of thanks and left with his brats, and I swear the noise level went down a few hundred decibels.
Ah, peace.
Zen. Buddha.But that's not all from Father of the Year!
A few minutes later, he calls from the room and asks for a crib. Of course. Why didn't I think of it before? The problem was, the maintenence man, who usually does the deliveries, was off that day and the head maid was covering for him, per management. Whaaaa??? How's a maid supposed to fix toilets, heaters, a/c, TVs? I doubted she knew. I thought it was a dumb management decision, but oh well. If a guest gets mad because she couldn't, it wasn't my fault. Management was well aware of this and that's all I cared about.
Anyway, I get her and tell her to send a crib up. She says okay. I think everything's all well, and then I get another call from the guy. Where is the crib? Turns out, the maid is still searching the closets on every floor for one. I tell him so and apologize... He calls back every five minutes, getting angrier and angrier. "My poor baby's already asleep by now!" I could hear the brats' noise in the background, so how the poor baby fell asleep in that din, I could never fathom.
Those children are still screaming at the tops of their lungs. I'm starting to worry about the noise bothering other guests...
It gets so bad that I have to leave the front desk to find the maid, luckily I run into her in the elevator. (BTW, we do have walkie talkies, but they suck, and she doesn't speak much English or very loudly.) She shows me the only crib she could find: a BROKEN one.
Somehow I know that the guy's is NOT going to be happy with this, so I quickly try to fix it. No luck. There's nothing left for me to do. I have to give him it.
Guy is furious. He starts yelling at me over his kids, a feat, really, and Lady Luck strikes me and I'm able to fix the crib right then and there.
Guy shuts up, and before he slams the door in my face, I can see his kids just tearing the hotel room up, just TEARING it up, jumping on the bed, kicking the TV, throwing their little selves on the floor. At that point, I thank God I don't have kids.God, man, use a freaking condom! LOL I think I'll stick to audit...
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
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