(no subject)
Apparently Anna has an intolerance for depression that leads to irrational bouts of anger.
So I'm at work, right. It's slow, because it's Christmas. I don't care that I'm working on Christmas, I don't give a shit about Christmas. Claudia is the girl at the front desk tonight, Genoice is the manager on duty. Claudia is a mild-mannered girl of some ethnic origin, she's very pretty, and she's rather soft-spoken. Genoice is the engineering manager and is a lively and rather entertaining black man. Other than them, The only other staff in the hotel tonight are members of Culinaire, the people in charge of the restaurant and room service food. This is all fine and dandy by me, honestly.
So somewhere around 6-ish Claudia calls me over the walkie and tells me 424 did not get service today and would like new towels and sheets. That's fine, and quite simple. Of course, there are very few reasons a room would not get service on any given day, Christmas or otherwise-- and the likely and most common reason for this is that the guest had a Do Not Disturb sign on their door when housekeeping made their rounds that morning. This still does not terribly bother me. 424 is a room with two double beds, I can change double sheets just fine. It's the king sheets that give me trouble (hi, being 4'11" is extremely inconvenient). So I get a pair of double sheet sets, and a round of new towels. I go up to 424, no one is in the room. Awesome, right? ...Except for the fact that the guest has left their personal effects strewn across the beds.
Now, by company policy, I as a member of the housekeeping staff am not allowed to touch a guest's personal belongings without their direct supervision. You see the issue.
So I frown for a while and try to think of a way around this, and in the long run end up leaving the sheets on the table in the main room and putting up the towels. I go back to the front desk and tell Claudia I couldn't change the sheets but that I left fresh ones for the guest, and she says she'll tell them.
So I go about my merry way and continue to deliver stuff to guests by way of Claudia asking me over the walkie, I go to walgreens to get some cheap and slightly edible frozen dinners for lunch because I don't want to pester the cook and McDonald's is closed, and sometime around 8:45 Claudia gets over the walkie again to bring up room 424. Apparently the guest is kind of pissed, and wants her sheets changed. I ask if she was informed that I could not touch her personal effects, Claudia informs me that the woman said it was fine and that her sheets needed to be changed.
Regardless of anger, I changed the sheets because I cannot afford to lose my job due to copping an attitude with some wretched old bitch who speaks bad English, but I really wanted to punch the woman when I passed her in the hallway. She gave me this sort of 'Get to it, housekeeping,' look as I passed. I mean, what the fuck? I can understand to a degree wanting to have good service in a hotel room that cost upwards of $130 a night, but when I tell you I cannot do something that is as such because of company policy to respect the guest's privacy and reduce the risk and possibility of theft, fucking get over the fact that your sheets haven't been changed in a day and take the Do Not Disturb sign off your door earlier in the day so the suitekeepers can do their job.
I have to wonder how much of my current malicious mood has to do with reading a novel about a woman killing her 88-year-old dying mother.
So I'm at work, right. It's slow, because it's Christmas. I don't care that I'm working on Christmas, I don't give a shit about Christmas. Claudia is the girl at the front desk tonight, Genoice is the manager on duty. Claudia is a mild-mannered girl of some ethnic origin, she's very pretty, and she's rather soft-spoken. Genoice is the engineering manager and is a lively and rather entertaining black man. Other than them, The only other staff in the hotel tonight are members of Culinaire, the people in charge of the restaurant and room service food. This is all fine and dandy by me, honestly.
So somewhere around 6-ish Claudia calls me over the walkie and tells me 424 did not get service today and would like new towels and sheets. That's fine, and quite simple. Of course, there are very few reasons a room would not get service on any given day, Christmas or otherwise-- and the likely and most common reason for this is that the guest had a Do Not Disturb sign on their door when housekeeping made their rounds that morning. This still does not terribly bother me. 424 is a room with two double beds, I can change double sheets just fine. It's the king sheets that give me trouble (hi, being 4'11" is extremely inconvenient). So I get a pair of double sheet sets, and a round of new towels. I go up to 424, no one is in the room. Awesome, right? ...Except for the fact that the guest has left their personal effects strewn across the beds.
Now, by company policy, I as a member of the housekeeping staff am not allowed to touch a guest's personal belongings without their direct supervision. You see the issue.
So I frown for a while and try to think of a way around this, and in the long run end up leaving the sheets on the table in the main room and putting up the towels. I go back to the front desk and tell Claudia I couldn't change the sheets but that I left fresh ones for the guest, and she says she'll tell them.
So I go about my merry way and continue to deliver stuff to guests by way of Claudia asking me over the walkie, I go to walgreens to get some cheap and slightly edible frozen dinners for lunch because I don't want to pester the cook and McDonald's is closed, and sometime around 8:45 Claudia gets over the walkie again to bring up room 424. Apparently the guest is kind of pissed, and wants her sheets changed. I ask if she was informed that I could not touch her personal effects, Claudia informs me that the woman said it was fine and that her sheets needed to be changed.
Regardless of anger, I changed the sheets because I cannot afford to lose my job due to copping an attitude with some wretched old bitch who speaks bad English, but I really wanted to punch the woman when I passed her in the hallway. She gave me this sort of 'Get to it, housekeeping,' look as I passed. I mean, what the fuck? I can understand to a degree wanting to have good service in a hotel room that cost upwards of $130 a night, but when I tell you I cannot do something that is as such because of company policy to respect the guest's privacy and reduce the risk and possibility of theft, fucking get over the fact that your sheets haven't been changed in a day and take the Do Not Disturb sign off your door earlier in the day so the suitekeepers can do their job.
I have to wonder how much of my current malicious mood has to do with reading a novel about a woman killing her 88-year-old dying mother.