The Ladies

Like any job, hotels have their own work language. This includes abbreviations, number codes, and politer ways to say bathroom with out saying bathroom. Also, the guests have some secret code words that come up again and again by different patrons. For example, recently I have had a run of people asking for a "phonebook" at late hours of the night. Whenever a "phonebook" comes up, I pretend I have no idea what the mean.

Me: Sorry. For some reason the concierge locks up the phone books at night. What are you looking for?
Guest: Uh. Pizza. I need a pizza.
Me: Well, you are in luck my friend. I am well versed in late night Chicago pizza deliveries. Perhaps I can send you up a couple menus.
Guest: Uh. No thanks. Phone book.
Me: Sorry sir, no phone book. Would you like me to google something for you?
Guest: Girls, damn it! Escort!

At this point, I leave the guest to his own devices. This has little to do with morals, but these situations can be a hassle for me. I do not want to be involved. At all. Also, I'm not getting lucky tonight, so why should you?

I have some of my own stories about guests and the ladies of the night, but there was a most excellent situation all read wrapped up in my fellow night managers night report.

• (Guest) came in around 4:30am with 2 working ladies. They left about 10 minutes later, and he went running after them, saying they robbed him. He brought back the ladies and 2 officers, to search the room for his wallet. They found his wallet, but the money was missing. The police said if they book the ladies & have them searched they would also have to arrest him for solicitation, so he declined to press charges.

Awesome.

Show Time

Yes ma'am, I know the outside door is locked. You have to use your room key to unlock the night door. I may very well be a mother fucker, ma'am, but that isn't helping us right now. Just show me your key and I will get you up to your room. You don't have to show me your mother fucking key? I'm sorry, but you being drunk and obnoxious doesn't really make me want to buzz you in any faster. How about your name and I will look you up in the computer. Yes, ma'am, I want your mother fucking name so I can buzz you through the mother fucking door. Ma'am, just tell this mother fucker your name and I will look you up and let you in. There we go, that was easy right? Did you know that during this exchange you have more than quadrupled the number of times I have ever been called a mother fucker? Thank you and a good mother fucking night to you too!

(five noise complaints, five minutes, and a elevator ride later)

Hello again! I am truly sorry, but we cant have you sitting in the hallway screaming and pounding on your door. So, what's wrong? Ok, so your mother fucking bitch of a roommate has dead bolted the mother fucking door and now you cant get into your mother fucking room? Ok, let's calm down a bit and try to call her. Oh sorry, I guess you don't want to be mother fucking calm. You already mentioned that you want to get into your mother fucking room. Believe me, I want you in that room more than you do.

So you two were out drinking, she left early and is now not answering the door? And you weren't fighting? Ok ok, you weren't mother fucking fighting. Let's just try to get this situation resolved. You don't want to get this mother fucking situation resolved? Oh, you do. Phew! Ok, first step is to stop pounding on the door and stop screaming at the top of your smoke scorched lungs. Second, it's very kind of you to be entertaining our guests with your screeching and banging, but you may want to close your legs a bit because, between you and me, they aren't great tippers. That's better. What? How much mother fucking money do I want to get you into that mother fucking room? Believe me, getting you out of this hallway is payment enough. You will pay me six hundred mother fucking dollars to get you into the room? Ma'am, at this point I don't want any of your mother fucking money. Besides, that's only maybe $35.

Anyway, the engineer is on his way to help us out. Now, we're not going to start screaming at your mother fucking bitch of a roommate are we? Your neighbors have not really enjoyed the show so far and this maybe one of those times where a cat fight isn't appreciated. Of course you don't care about the mother fucking neighbors. My mistake. Ok, here we go. Oh good, at least your mother fucking bitch of a roommate was the only one on your floor passed out enough not to hear your screaming hissy fit. You have a great night and thank you for staying with us! Mother fucker.