Tiffany, pleased to serve you some whoop-ass
I am a weather woman. I am to know the weather: how much it’s going to rain/sleet/snow, etc. I am to know the temperature at any given moment, and I am to know if it’s going to warm up or cool down. I am also to know the average percipitation for this area during all seasons. If I don’t, I’m not helpful enough. If I do, you’ll tell me I’m wrong and that you heard it differently on the news.
I am an atlas. I am supposed to know the exact mileage from here to Knoxville, TN and exactly how long it will take to get there. I should also know every single hotel between here and Indianapolis, how much they charge, and if they have an indoor pool.
I am to know the phone number and location to every Days Inn in the entire world. Nevermind the fact that we have an 800 # specifically for that purpose. I should also be able to make a reservation at any one of those hotels through our computer, even though our computers aren’t linked in any way. Yes, I can make your reservation with out knowing your name, address or credit card information.
I have control over ever fiber of this hotel. From the air conditioners to the telephones. If it breaks, not only is it my fault, I did it on purpose. I have absolutely no problem giving you a discount because someone coughed at 2 am and woke you up. How dare I put you in a room close to other people.
The check out time of 11:00 am is really only for show. You can check out whenever you want. The maids don’t have to clean that room and get it ready for someone who might be checking in at 3:00. We’ll lose revenue for that room too, but it’s okay. You are special and you can do whatever you want. Yes, you can have 10 pillows. Yes, you can eat breakfast at 10 even though it ends at 9:00. And yes, we’ll move furniture/appliances from other rooms to your room at midnight because you want to microwave a burrito.
I will be at your beck and call 24 hours a day. I am your personal secretary, as well. I will take messages, send and recieve faxes, and make you 900 copies all at no charge. And no, I don’t mind watching your kid while you make a phone call. Because that’s what I get paid for, right?
The bottom line? Most travelers are rude, inconsiderate idiots. I’ve lost track of how many people have mistaken our hotel for the Ramada, even though we have a HUGE sign in front of the building stating otherwise. I can’t tell you how many times someone has asked me what state they are in or what interestate they should take to get to Michigan. Didn’t you bring a map? It worries me that the roads are filled with drivers who have no clue of where they’re at. There are signs that tell you these things, you know.
My advice? Get a clue, bring a map, and remember that you’re not at the Hilton. Also, please stop flushing your used condoms, food, clothes and keys down our toilets. Act like a human being. Thanks.
Rantasaurus Says: If I can’t have my seventeen pillows and my breakfast ready at 10 pm and every daily newspaper from here to Peking, I am not staying at your hotel, Miss, and wipe that weatherwoman grin off your face.
Well said, Tiffany. I’ve worked reception (not at a hotel, though) and plenty of retail and working with people is ridiculously hard sometimes. Kudos to you.
Though after the pillow comment, now I feel guilty for asking for two extra pillows at that hotel I stayed at two weeks ago.
Oh Tiffany. I feel every word in your rant. I worked at the front desk of a four diamond hotel for four and a half years. One time that stands out in my head was when a person called me and asked me what time it was in Hawaii and was taken aback when I didn’t know off the top of my head. Mind you, I worked in Michigan.
Finally someone articulates my frustration.
I worked at a hotel for three months and quit. The guests were screaming at me because they didn’t want to pay full price, the other desk clerk wouldn’t do any laundry because she was pregnant (?) and the housekeepers would mark rooms clean without cleaning them and go home. Then people would come in one my shift (second or third) and check into rooms that were marked clean but which were actually equipped with unmade beds, wet towels, and dirty underwear. Worst. Job. Ever.