Friday, 11 November 2011

What.The.Fuck. Wednesdays

So last night, I was going to write this post about how November and December are our quiet times in the hotel. Most places slow down, construction season is almost over so a lot of our business will be going somewhere else until the summer comes around again and they can work outside without freezing their nads off. This is the time of year where I'm both incredibly productive and incredibly lazy and the best stories come about. I can wander from the desk for longer than my rounds, and some nights we have an entire hall empty so I can act like I'm five and run up and down the halls with the luggage cart.

You cannot tell me that you haven't wanted to do that. Whatever age you are, that shit is fun. I just wait for opportune times, like 3am after the bars have closed and my work is done and everyone is asleep, before I let that much immaturity shine through.

Anywhore, this week I expected quiet, I expected to be able to get my audit done in peace and I expected to catch up on my homework that I may or may not have been slacking on. It's not my fault YouTube just got interesting, or a bunch of new shows on T.V. Started and I need to watch them at work/online because I sleep when regular humans sleep. I'm too poor for 'PVR', people.

This week went according to plan, for the most part. Until last night. Last night it became apparent that I live in the ghetto, and that the police are morons.*

*I have a healthy respect for more police officers, but the local department that are in charge of keeping the law and order around these parts....

I live and work in the ghetto because of the crime rates. The fact that I regularly rent rooms to drug dealers, and Yes Mom I know its wrong and I should call the police, but if I called them every time this happened, I’d have no business. Its the sad sad truth. I do have the policy that if they are stupid about handling their business, or guests complain about traffic that shit stops or they get kicked out with no refund.

Last night, people complained. Understandably so, it was like a revolving door of every known drug dealer or user. I think it’s sad that I can describe these people by appearance and know some of their names. Anyways, someone complained when I wasn’t on duty and the afternoon girl (bless her soul) called the po-po.

Two Hours Later

They show up and everyone gets away anyways.
I wish I were kidding, by the way. I’m not. Two hours to get here, thirty minutes to plan and execute and everyone they were after was gone or escaped.

And then I had two crazy French Canadian women attack me verbally and almost psychically, had to call the cops
again and my night still had four hours to go before I was done. Insanity, I tell you.

Tonight? Tonight shit is quiet. The hotel is giving me a break so I don’t completely lose my marbles or become so jaded I turn into stone. Working in this industry has taught me a lot, it has given me an amazing perspective on myself and what I want to do with my life, but it has also taken away the innocence of a lot of things. Idea for a new post, perhaps.

This weekend is the last full weekend I get off this month, too, which should be interesting... I’m about to work a week, get a day off, then a week, get a day off, then six days. Lord save anyone who has excessive noise or too much traffic in their room, because this ninja isn’t putting up with shit for the rest of the month.


BlackLOG said...

I can wander from the desk for longer than my rounds, and some nights we have an entire hall empty so I can act like I'm five and run up and down the halls with the luggage cart.
Sounds a bit like the shining – what are you going to do if you come across a small child on a tricycle, cause you just know that this will be followed shortly by Johnny with an Axe

And then I had two crazy French Canadian women attack me verbally and almost psychically,
What is it with French Canadians, I thought Parisians were rude but they are rank amateurs compared to their French Canadian cousins who seem to all graduate from the academy of bad etiquette with distinctions.....

Jaclyn said...

You know how you can get those shitty t-shirts where they airbrush any bullshit you want on there? You should get one. With Snoop Dogg on it. And it should say I Heart Crips or some shit like that. And then wear it to work under your uniform, like it's your hood superhero costume and show it to all the hoodrats when they fuck with your. Because if there is one thing I can promise you, it is: airbrushed t-shirt= will cut a bitch.

Front Desk Ninja said...

BackLOG: Johnny boy wouldn't have anything on me. I have escape routes planned for all my rounds. No lie. French Canadians give the French suchhhh a bad name, too. It's only the full-blooded ones, too. I'm a half-blood F.C., and I'm not nearly as rude or bitchy as the full on ones are.

Jaclyn: I'd be laughed out of the hood with Snoop. Unless it were from the Peanuts fame, in which case I'd likely get more respect. As it stands I just helped co-host a baby shower for my best friend, so I'm broker than Jesus at the moment. No airbrushing for this chick yet.

Jen said...

How does a French Canadian woman attack? Does she hurl Celine Dion CD's at you and threaten to knock you "oot"? Girl, you have the patience of a fucking saint.

Front Desk Ninja said...

Jen- LMFAO. She actually insulted me first in french, which I shockingly understood (yay french classes not being a total waste of life) and when I laughed she switched to english insults. Which are far more scathing, let me assure you.

I really do, too. My boss has told me on many occasions at how impressive my abilities to handle bullshit are.

I keep a shot of whiskey handy for the seriouz timez, yo.