Points Man

Guy walks in and has booked a suite. I ask "Would you like to leave it on this Visa?" and he says "I'm going to use my points. I should have enough for a free night."

He has 11, 017 points from our rewards program.

"I'm sorry sir, it takes 25,000 points for a free night here."

"I was told it was 7,500." 

"Wow... well, that's not the case."

"So I'll have to pay the difference?"

"....."

"You'll use the 11,000 and I'll pay the difference?"

"No sir. You'd have to have 25,000. That's just how the program works."

Lotion Boy, Part 2

This is the (edited) incident report that I turned into the boss. On my next day off, I'll describe what I later found out happened after I left.

The date was September 22nd, 2012.

[Lotion Boy] and his co-worker had come home from dinner (or something) around 8pm. Shortly after that, [Lotion Boy] came downstairs for a cigarette and then chatted with me at the front desk. It was obvious he was drunk or drunk and high. None of his sentences could possibly be diagrammed, and most of them couldn't even be understood. His babbling was fine until a guest came in with her manager. [Lotion Boy] started asking the guest all about her feelings on Romney and Obama, unintentionally creating a new character "Obamney." The guest didn't seem too put out, but I called up to [Lotion Boy]'s coworker to tell her to come get her friend.

She came down and escorted him to a cigarette break outside, where he peed in the bushes (he later denied this. I trust the coworker). She then took him up to his room, 414. I remember the number because he had been telling me to come visit him there.

Ten minutes later, he came down again to talk at the front desk. All the guests had checked in at this point, so the lobby was quiet. Among other drunk-speak, he  repeatedly asked me to come up to his room to "watch him." The exact nature of the entertainment was never explicitly made clear, but I believe I was 100% sure of his intent due to our previous interactions. During his stays here, he has come to the front desk up to 4 times in a night requesting a bottle of lotion. On Sept. 22, he asked me if I knew what he used it for, and whether I'd like to watch him use it and confirm my suspicions.

Again, this invitation was offered several times. I hoped to dash his dreams by telling him there are cameras in every hallway and stairwell, but this information did not seem to penetrate his brain. He offered me a monetary sum for my efforts at climbing the stairs and enjoying the "show," eventually capping his offer at $100. I continued to say no. During this conversation, he took several cigarette breaks, and each time I thought he might forget we had been talking, and walk right past me back to 414.

When [night clerk] came in around 11, we did our shift switch communication and [Lotion Boy] appeared to leave, heading toward the elevators. As I was saying goodbye to [night clerk] from the guest side of the front desk, I could see that [Lotion Boy] was really just pushing the elevator button and letting the door close, without getting on. I told him to go ahead up without me. The last thing I saw before loudly and sternly saying "Get on that elevator right now!!" was [Lotion Boy] holding his exposed boy parts outside his pants and moving them. Luckily, I didn't have on my glasses, so I couldn't see it clearly.

Lotion Boy, Part 1.

Now this is a story all about how my lotion stash got twisted upside down....

Guest comes downstairs. "Do you have any extra lotion?" Sure! Here you go; good night!

6 minutes pass.

Guest comes down again. "Hey, I'm sorry... This is really embarrassing... Do you have any more bottles of lotion?" Of course! No one ever asks for that, so we're pretty well stocked. 'Night.

12 minutes pass.

Guest, creeping around the side wall: "This is so, so embarrassing. Um.... may I get some more..." Yeah, sure. Here you go.

35 minutes pass.

Guest: "Hi..." Here. In fact, you can have four bottles. Just leave.



Phone call: "Hey, thanks for the lotion. You're so nice. I'm so sorry. That was really embarrassing."

Dude. I wouldn't have thought twice about you if you had just lied and said "I just want to stock up on free lotion." In fact, I wish all our guests were honest enough to tell us exactly what they're doing, when they're cheating on their spouses, and just what they're running from when they show up crying. Instead, we have to guess, and I GUESS that's more fun. I assumed what we're all assuming- that the lotion was destined for its first, last, and only sexual experience before being completely absorbed and missed. My suspicions were not confirmed until the next week. You, dear reader, only have to wait a day.

Hot Tub Dranker

"'Scuse me miss, I know this ain't your fault, but I am fuckin' LIT." Great, please continue! I can't wait to... not be able to solve your problem!

He's upset that his room doesn't have a hot tub, but instead a bathtub with whirlpool jets. Since he booked through a third party (think Expedia), who can do what they want, this is not anything we can control. He proceeded to rant about the lack of hot tub for a few minutes, every now and then interrupting himself to reiterate that "I know this ain't your fault." After I said I'd figure out how to refund his money, he started walking away and said "Good, 'cause I'm PISSED, and I'm 'bout to start drankin', and it's just gon' git worse." How exciting!

Resolution: I called his room 30 minutes later with "Sir, I can get you a refund if-" (90 seconds of him jabbering about the problem) "Yes, I understand, and I'm so sorry that happened. If you-" (120 seconds of jabbering about how I need to tell his girl he wasn't mean to me) "Ha ha, I'll tell her. So to get the refund-" (45 seconds of jabbering about his baked potato at dinner*) "I'm sorry it's been a rough night. CallExpediaandgettherefundhaveagoodnight."

Line of the night: "I know you're just a receptionist..." I will hit you in the face with my law degree. I'm not using it for anything.

*I shit you not. He did NOT make it clear that the potato was not my fault. It may have been.

Intro

I work at the front desk of an unnamed hotel. Scratch that- it has a name, but I won't be mentioning it. Each day, I'll try to update with something weird that happened here. If the universe has gone out of control and everyone acts normal, I'll write up an oldie.