Shenanigans, Part the Second
Okay, seriously. We have the same amount of people in tonight as we did last night--200-ish people from three groups--and it's like a whole new world. Maybe they were tired from their drive in last night, or something, but seriously, this is ridiculous.
We have the World Series of some sort of child sport involving baseball, the church group and some other child sport. Oh, and all their damned parents.
The DoS decides it'd be a BRILLIANT idea to put on a barbecue with beer, wine, liquor, etc...and this church group is of the ultra, ultra conservative vein. I'm not sure what to call them that wouldn't sound offensive, as in the South people say "holy roller." They're temperance movement, long-sleeved, modesty types. Okay, that's cool with me, but don't come complaining to me about beer and things. Go complain to the DoS, who put on the barbecue.
It also just so happens that half the sports team parents are vegetarians. The only vegetable served at the barbecue? Beer. Beer was apparently a vegetable, and they partook of the fruits of the vine as well. In short, fucking what, drunk parents on one half of the hotel, on the other half, meat-gorged churchgoers. Was there a fight? No. Was there loud discussion involving "YOU ARE GOING TO HELL" and "YOU HATE ANIMALS."
Oh. My fucking. God. Sweet, delicious Christ on a cracker, you guys are gonna kill me.
On top of all this, I've re-made beds, cleaned rooms and comped rooms. I've missed about 20 phone calls due to the fact that when I go upstairs, the cordless phone doesn't work. One of them was my boss. Awesome. Tried to call her back on her cell phone, but she wasn't answering, so I apologized and explained that I was housekeeping, peacekeeping and everything else tonight. Hopefully she understands.
When I get home, I am going to partake of the grains of the field in liquid form, myself. Please let this night go smoothly...
So, we have the CV1 single-cup coffeemakers in every hotel room, per ye olde Hampton's spec. Cool, I get it. It saves us money--somehow, using magick Hilton math!--to have a single-cup brewing system in every room. We have direction cards placed in every room, suite and double suite on how to use the brewing system. They're posted right next to the coffeemakers on these nifty little Hampton-branded gold-coloured (or brushed silver, depending on which phase of the remodel/revamp that floor is at) plaques.
A lady came downstairs at four this morning, yelling and screaming that she didn't have a coffeemaker...or coffee...or cream and sugar packets. K. I get that, sometimes housekeeping fucks up on that particular floor.
I went to storage, unboxed and cleaned a new coffeemaker, loaded up an "I'm sorry we're fuckups" box with goodies, got a pot of fresh cream (because she's that type) and a bowl of sugar cubes, as well as some coffee, and trotted up three sets of stairs. Knocked on the door, got into the room, and she started screeching at me yet again--apparently, I'm the idiot that stole the carafe and the coffee.
I just stared at her, and then I pointed to the sign.
She stopped screeching, turned eight shades of purple, jerked the cream and sugar away and practically threw me out the door. It. Was. Amazing. She just got charged for room service.
We have the World Series of some sort of child sport involving baseball, the church group and some other child sport. Oh, and all their damned parents.
The DoS decides it'd be a BRILLIANT idea to put on a barbecue with beer, wine, liquor, etc...and this church group is of the ultra, ultra conservative vein. I'm not sure what to call them that wouldn't sound offensive, as in the South people say "holy roller." They're temperance movement, long-sleeved, modesty types. Okay, that's cool with me, but don't come complaining to me about beer and things. Go complain to the DoS, who put on the barbecue.
It also just so happens that half the sports team parents are vegetarians. The only vegetable served at the barbecue? Beer. Beer was apparently a vegetable, and they partook of the fruits of the vine as well. In short, fucking what, drunk parents on one half of the hotel, on the other half, meat-gorged churchgoers. Was there a fight? No. Was there loud discussion involving "YOU ARE GOING TO HELL" and "YOU HATE ANIMALS."
Oh. My fucking. God. Sweet, delicious Christ on a cracker, you guys are gonna kill me.
On top of all this, I've re-made beds, cleaned rooms and comped rooms. I've missed about 20 phone calls due to the fact that when I go upstairs, the cordless phone doesn't work. One of them was my boss. Awesome. Tried to call her back on her cell phone, but she wasn't answering, so I apologized and explained that I was housekeeping, peacekeeping and everything else tonight. Hopefully she understands.
When I get home, I am going to partake of the grains of the field in liquid form, myself. Please let this night go smoothly...
So, we have the CV1 single-cup coffeemakers in every hotel room, per ye olde Hampton's spec. Cool, I get it. It saves us money--somehow, using magick Hilton math!--to have a single-cup brewing system in every room. We have direction cards placed in every room, suite and double suite on how to use the brewing system. They're posted right next to the coffeemakers on these nifty little Hampton-branded gold-coloured (or brushed silver, depending on which phase of the remodel/revamp that floor is at) plaques.
A lady came downstairs at four this morning, yelling and screaming that she didn't have a coffeemaker...or coffee...or cream and sugar packets. K. I get that, sometimes housekeeping fucks up on that particular floor.
I went to storage, unboxed and cleaned a new coffeemaker, loaded up an "I'm sorry we're fuckups" box with goodies, got a pot of fresh cream (because she's that type) and a bowl of sugar cubes, as well as some coffee, and trotted up three sets of stairs. Knocked on the door, got into the room, and she started screeching at me yet again--apparently, I'm the idiot that stole the carafe and the coffee.
I just stared at her, and then I pointed to the sign.
She stopped screeching, turned eight shades of purple, jerked the cream and sugar away and practically threw me out the door. It. Was. Amazing. She just got charged for room service.