memoir
Rm 109
EDIT: I sat and thought about it, and a memoir would just be to long to write, Instead its going to be a non-fiction book. of stories, things that can and will go wrong in a hotel,
Scandals, Lies, Cops, Cocaine.
The works
Im going to list out stories that I can remember, and then write about them later. each in detail....or at least try to.
1.) The Co-worker - Dissasembling a fire alarm - smoking crack leadin
- Smoking Crack 101
a.) The Catch -> the dealer
- Sneak -> the coworker -> meet the family
- Family life -> the roomy -> Moving in
- The Son -> Sex -> the after effects
- Angel - Demon -> Family life ->
2.) Roomservice - In the buff. -> Black man
- Moans from the elevator -> prostitute ->blu
- The Dealer -> Crack 101 wrap up
- Dead rat -> start housekeep
- Prostitute - blue
- The Backroom - Crack - Pickle
3.) Little things - Little Orange Buttons -> stupid people ->
- Dirty laundry - condoms and dogshit
- The Door - ignorance
- Newbies - ignorance
4.) Boss - "Friends" - coworker
- Special price - little things
- The Wife - ignorance
- "It wasn't open when you bought it" - Bitch out
Im not sure if im going to compile more stories, save them for later, or just add as I see fit. I do know however, that upon completion of this "memoir", that I would like to try and get it published.
That would be nice.
-
Shit Escalates
You'll never really know what to expect when you work for a hotel. Granted, there are always things that you know are going to happen, like someone complaining about the next room over smoking pot and the stench is drifting, or someone finding a pubic hair on their pillow or towel. However, there are those certain instances where things just go awry. Where what starts out as "Excuse me, The people across the hall are being way to noisy" to a barage of police in the parking lot with a megaphone screaming to the third floor " PLEASE PUT THE FIRE ARM DOWN SIR." Shit escalates.
I didn't think things like this happened though, as if it were only a simple check someone in, check someone out, and sit on my ass for the rest of the time. I didn't know I would be getting myself into one of the most demanding jobs (next to beeing a prostitute, but more on that later) in the working industry. Not so much demanding in the physical sense, but mentally. Thank god for such luxuries as alcohol and cigarettes or some might think I'm crazy.
First things first, let me introduce myself. My name is Alex, I'm twenty one years old, and have been in the hotel industry for little over a year now. I happened upon the hotel industry about three years back when my now sister-in-law knew I was jobless, and helped me get a foot in the door at Quality Inn. Since this was the first time I had an official "desk job", everyday I would show up with the darkest black sports blazer, white dress shirt, black slacks, high end belt, shoes, the blackest, most shiniest in all the land.
First impression I thought, would mold me into an "ambassador".
It was at Quality that I came face to face with the beast that is " The Guest". Of course, there are some guests that you want to hug and thank higher powers that they exist, but those are the guests that never come in on your shift. The spare chance that they do, it's like hitting hotel gold. Mostly you will get drunks, crack heads, prostitutes, businessmen, johns, pimps. they only come in for one thing, so they really don't care about the "comforts" of more elaborate and modern hotels. They could give a shit less how you treat them. So we treat them accordingly. The word "hospitible" to guests is a mockery of moral. Guests do not care about hospitality, they care about their pockets and if they will still be padded when you are finished with them. Guests care about money, They love money.
We the desk clerk are nothing but disposable. Guests dont have to worry about seeing our faces for the rest of their lives. The only thing they want to hear from us is how much the room is after taxes. We the F.D.C are hated. Everyone who steps through our doorways are standing ready to verbally assault us so they can save the extra fifty cent. They dont have to care that we are people, they forget we are actually. In the guests eyes, we the employees are dirt on their new white shoes.
EDIT: I sat and thought about it, and a memoir would just be to long to write, Instead its going to be a non-fiction book. of stories, things that can and will go wrong in a hotel,
Scandals, Lies, Cops, Cocaine.
The works
Im going to list out stories that I can remember, and then write about them later. each in detail....or at least try to.
1.) The Co-worker - Dissasembling a fire alarm - smoking crack leadin
- Smoking Crack 101
a.) The Catch -> the dealer
- Sneak -> the coworker -> meet the family
- Family life -> the roomy -> Moving in
- The Son -> Sex -> the after effects
- Angel - Demon -> Family life ->
2.) Roomservice - In the buff. -> Black man
- Moans from the elevator -> prostitute ->blu
- The Dealer -> Crack 101 wrap up
- Dead rat -> start housekeep
- Prostitute - blue
- The Backroom - Crack - Pickle
3.) Little things - Little Orange Buttons -> stupid people ->
- Dirty laundry - condoms and dogshit
- The Door - ignorance
- Newbies - ignorance
4.) Boss - "Friends" - coworker
- Special price - little things
- The Wife - ignorance
- "It wasn't open when you bought it" - Bitch out
Im not sure if im going to compile more stories, save them for later, or just add as I see fit. I do know however, that upon completion of this "memoir", that I would like to try and get it published.
That would be nice.
-
Shit Escalates
You'll never really know what to expect when you work for a hotel. Granted, there are always things that you know are going to happen, like someone complaining about the next room over smoking pot and the stench is drifting, or someone finding a pubic hair on their pillow or towel. However, there are those certain instances where things just go awry. Where what starts out as "Excuse me, The people across the hall are being way to noisy" to a barage of police in the parking lot with a megaphone screaming to the third floor " PLEASE PUT THE FIRE ARM DOWN SIR." Shit escalates.
I didn't think things like this happened though, as if it were only a simple check someone in, check someone out, and sit on my ass for the rest of the time. I didn't know I would be getting myself into one of the most demanding jobs (next to beeing a prostitute, but more on that later) in the working industry. Not so much demanding in the physical sense, but mentally. Thank god for such luxuries as alcohol and cigarettes or some might think I'm crazy.
First things first, let me introduce myself. My name is Alex, I'm twenty one years old, and have been in the hotel industry for little over a year now. I happened upon the hotel industry about three years back when my now sister-in-law knew I was jobless, and helped me get a foot in the door at Quality Inn. Since this was the first time I had an official "desk job", everyday I would show up with the darkest black sports blazer, white dress shirt, black slacks, high end belt, shoes, the blackest, most shiniest in all the land.
First impression I thought, would mold me into an "ambassador".
It was at Quality that I came face to face with the beast that is " The Guest". Of course, there are some guests that you want to hug and thank higher powers that they exist, but those are the guests that never come in on your shift. The spare chance that they do, it's like hitting hotel gold. Mostly you will get drunks, crack heads, prostitutes, businessmen, johns, pimps. they only come in for one thing, so they really don't care about the "comforts" of more elaborate and modern hotels. They could give a shit less how you treat them. So we treat them accordingly. The word "hospitible" to guests is a mockery of moral. Guests do not care about hospitality, they care about their pockets and if they will still be padded when you are finished with them. Guests care about money, They love money.
We the desk clerk are nothing but disposable. Guests dont have to worry about seeing our faces for the rest of their lives. The only thing they want to hear from us is how much the room is after taxes. We the F.D.C are hated. Everyone who steps through our doorways are standing ready to verbally assault us so they can save the extra fifty cent. They dont have to care that we are people, they forget we are actually. In the guests eyes, we the employees are dirt on their new white shoes.