Five Dicks, 3.5 Vaginas, 3 Broken Beers and One Vodka Fueled Rage, How was YOUR Valentines?

This week my hotel has been uncommonly busy.
forty plus rooms busy.
It's been interesting, and certainly more handsome, what with the eye candy provided to me by the added bodies.

It's also been stupid.

Tonight was Valentines, in case you missed all that getting shoved down your throat.
Tonight was also Single People Fucking Strangers night, with a side order of "We Still Live At Home and Mom and Pop Wouldn't Appreciate The Bondage Scenes"

I'm running behind on paperwork, and I still have to find bleach, but I wanted to drop this little token of awesome on y'all.

Five Dicks:

1. Around 12am, Douchebag One whips it out in an attempt to 'lure' me to his room. I tell him I can't see something that small without my glasses and I left those at home tonight.
2. Ten minutes later, Douchebag Two (his friend) offers his junk. With a red bow, which made me laugh, because I give points for courage. And the bow looked pretty too. I politely declined and he went away too.
3. One of the regulars. The words I have to describe the hilarity, involving him and the beers that broke and the fact he's probably old enough to be my father... sigh. I'm waiting for him to wake up and apologise. Or blush, either way.
4. Douchebag One, round two. This time, a girl was with him. In the hallway directly beside my desk, where I was doing my audit. BLEACH IS NEEDED.
5. Douchebag One again. Seriously, I have looked at this kid's junk unwillingly so much tonight I want to charge his penis a fine. At least that time was outside. I locked the front doors on the two of them. Abuse of power, yes. Hilarious, absolutely.

3.5 Vaginas
1. Douchebag Two's 'girlfriend' decided to show me what was going to be plundered. Willingly lifted her 'skirt' up. I have no words. I laughed at her and told her to have a good night.
2. Unintentional, when Douchebag One and his 'girl' were in the hallway. Full vag shot, my eyes are burned. She is not a natural blonde, though.
3. Douchebag Ones 'girl', outside. She is the point and a half too, because I saw it, and then saw parts of it, and this post just got really creepy and makes it seem like I was trying to look for the poon. I WASN'T, GUYS.

Broken Beers

Happened when one of my regulars was walking, drunkenly, trying to get to his room with his pants by his ankles. I cleaned it up, only because I don't totally know where the first aid kit shit is. Anything heavier than bandaids, and I take a good ten minutes to find.

Drunk bitches yelled at me, holding a bottle of vodka.
I was accused of trying to steal Douchebag One and Two from the 'ladies'.
I laughed, almost to the point of hyperventilation. The guys carried the whores ladies up to the room, and I have not heard from them since.

On a brighter note, my boss brought me in two chocolate bars and a thank you note with a gift card in it for the shit load of hours I worked last week for her.
Chocolate is pretty much the easiest way to my heart.
That and poisoned lip balm.

Happy Chocolate Day, people.
May love fill your hearts, mouths and loins.

When You Poke A Sleepy Audit...

...you basically get the biggest bitch in customer service ever.

I'm super tired tonight. I may have even had a twenty minute nap that resulted in me waking up scared to my alarm on my phone. I did my audit late tonight, so I was doing paperwork when the past Night Audit chick came in.

Now, this chick has a bad reputation at my hotel to begin with. The things she did that resulted in her termination are as follows (but not limited to, because they never really tell you an actual reason):
-walking down the street to get a coffee and leaving the hotel completely unattended.
- giving free rooms to her friends all the time
- using rooms for her own personal activities while on shift
- not doing the fucking audit
-sleeping
- Not showing up for her shift at.all.
- not answering her phone when she missed an entire shift

One or more of these got this chick fired. It happened almost a year and a half ago. I've been here ever since. There was a two week gap, but the manager was doing this shift.

So this whore walks in, and I'm tired so I'm slow to be polite. I need energy to be nice to people who just exude the look of douchebaggery. She starts in and tells me who she is and how she'll be getting the family and friend discount rate and my hotel manager knows her and blah blah blah blah blah. The amount of bullshit and life story I just received is immense and I don't want to trouble y'all with it.

She then tries to get me to call my manager, and I tell her no way. There isn't a problem. I name a very reasonable deposit price ($100 bucks) and tell her that I'll just hold it, and when she checks out at 11am in the morning she can talk to the morning girl and/or the hotel manager. She balks and starts to lose her shit, but in the most condescending, holier than thou way that I automatically shut down and start to sleep.

With my eyes open, of course.

In my head, I slapped her, told her to wipe the cum off her lips and get the fuck out of my hotel.

In reality, I stood there with a passive agressive "you may have worked here before but I'm running shit now, bitch. Good.Fucking.Luck" look on my face that I've ever been able to pull off. I think she was debating slugging me, but decided against it. I look kind of tough in my jeans and purple striped sweatshirt tonight, I guess.

She then tried to threaten my job, and told me to inform my boss that she'd be coming in to lodge a formal complaint against me. And then she smiled and told me to have a good day.

I of course, said thank you and I wished her the best of luck finding a hotel that would charge her under 100 bucks.

I may have waved. And smiled.


And now I'm going to shovel the snow and mop the floors and do the rest of the paperwork and eat some valentines day chocolates because I'm a spoiled little girl and enjoy this note I'm writing out to my boss.
(My job is no where near threatened, don't worry.)

My Hotel Is Fucking Haunted, Part Two

I first encountered Roberto about four months into my job.

He is not friendly. He's actually kind of a dick. That little brother no one ever likes, locks up in the attic and throws scraps of stale bread and water at. That sort of ghost. He mostly just runs around the hotel, which fucks with a newbie when they are first starting out.

Little secret? My hotel is fucking old.

So it took me a few months to get used to all the sounds, like the ice machine making ice and the stairs upstairs and down, and the hallways odd sounds.

I now know when there's no one upstairs, but the stairs still creak? That's Roberto.

I have a theory that he's an old man, one who died and never really left.

He's slammed doors, broken small things, thrown dirt and debris from the ceiling at me when I curse him, and generally done some pretty annoying things. But he's old, and normally hangs out in a certain part of the hotel.

Eddie, though? Eddie is a punk ass.

He's the third ghost, and I feel like he's a teen. He certainly acts like it. I can't count the number of times I've been getting my numbers while doing my rounds, and I'm in the electrical room and out of the corner of my eye I'll see someone running by me, but there's no footsteps or sounds. I've been sitting here, watching T.V and had Eddie run around the corner of one hallway and down the next, just to spook me.

He also likes to knock the restaurants menus down onto the ground, which has happened three times. I feel like it's a lot, considering those bitches are sturdy and you can't blow them down*

*fuck you all for judging, I get bored easily.
*And get your goddamn head out of the gutter.

So I know something knocks them the fuck down when the fans aren't even on.

In four days I've worked more than I've been off, and been awake almost 3 times more than I've slept.

I'm fucking passing out in the suite I had this morning and sleeping for at least ten hours. Fuck anything and anyone who tries to wake me up during that time, I will cut a bitch. Seriously.

Tomorrow, I plan to write about how cops have gone from being douchebags to hilarious stalkers.

Stay tuned!  

My Hotel Is Fucking Haunted, Part One

My hotel really is haunted.

I mean, first of all I live in the ghetto, so clearly I must live near at least four or five hidden bodies (kidding) but in all seriousness, my hotel is fucking haunted. There are times when I'm alone that it gets super creepy and weird shit happens. I feel like there are at least three different spirits in the hotel, just hanging out and waiting to freak me the fuck out when I'm tired and have nothing else to think about.

Example One

Ernest is one of the friendlier spirits of my hotel. (Fuck you, I name shit for fun sometimes) He likes to turn lights off, and give me the goosebump feeling of being watched when really no one is there and nothing is wrong. He normally leaves me alone, unless he's really bored. He's pretty cool, except when the power goes out.

Last time we had a huge storm, the pool alarm went off which meant that someone had 'hit the alarm' to tell me someone was drowning. The pool had been closed for hours, so I knew it was impossible, but it's a really loud, really annoying sound and at that point my Drunk Toddlers were still around so I knew I'd be hearing a bitchy whiny chorus of men in their boxers if I didn't fix it. I went into the pool area with the flashlight, into the loud and awkwardly shaped pool room to turn the alarm off and my flashlight died.

Didn't flicker, or anything. Just outright died. I blame Ernest.

Examples Two and Three will be coming soon, to a blog near you.*


*Total cop out. I'm fucking tired, and 13 hour shifts are kicking my ass for some reason. Still at work, still waiting for relief.

Hugs and shit,

Ninja.

Tattoos and Ranting About the Whores

Alright, so, I went and got the tattoo tonight and it's fucking awesome. Hurt like a bitch but I didn't cry, and most of the guys who were in the shop witnessing my bloody adventure were impressed because the ribs are an intense place to get tattoos.

I have one picture but it's shitty and you guys deserve better (and I need to get over my self consciousness about my belly and such. I'm a fucking girl, alright? Jesus) and so I'm going to wait until after the hot hot hot shower and all the dried blood and excess ink is washed off and you can then see it.

I'm going to aim for a blog post a day, I think, in February. I'm already off to a really good start, I think.

Anywhore.

Tonight was a goddamn shitshow at work, which doesn't surprise me because I'm in pain and wanted nothing more than to sit quietly and watch t.v. online and have a grand ole time doing NOTHING.

Instead I get the crack addicts making noise, two party rooms creating havoc and drama fucking central with a room that had three girls in it. I say had because one girl came back early from the bar, bawling her face off like G-ma died, and then took all of her friends shit, brought it to the front of the hotel, threw it into the garden and checked herself out.

I sat here speechless through most of the ordeal. Offered her kleenex, called her a cab and checked her out. She was the one who rented the room, was responsible for it, and all the things were technically out of the room, so I could.

Four hours later, the bitches come back. Don't see their things immediately, but when they come back to the desk because their keys aren't working, I point them to outside and tell them to call a cab or pay for a room.

Yeah. I'm a total bitch sometimes.

Naturally, as calm, stable individuals they respected me and the hotel property and left quietly.




Or, instead, what they actually did....

-Freaked the fuck out
-Called their friend to freak the fuck out
-Curse
-Throw things
-Threaten
-Cry like bitch babies.

Cops hauled them off about an hour ago. I am not dealing with some crazy bitches while my side feels like it's on fucking fire, guys.

I hope everyone enjoys their Friday!

This Isn't A Real Post, It's Just A Rant About The Rudeness Of The New Whores

WoahKAY.

Let's get a few things down.

I'm not stupid. I know how they act and look and talk to the desk.
I know your game and how you work, little miss thang.
Am I pissing all over your business? No. I rarely even call the cops on you, because most of the time, you are polite and handle your shit with gags and feather whips.*

                       *not even lying, the things that have been left behind by these people.... insane.

But tonight, dear whore.
When I ask you what room you're going to, don't play stupid. I can and will follow you and make sure you get to the 'right room'. When you glare at me and snarl (I shit you not, the sounds coming out of Prost-a-Tot's trapper were insane) I will politely remind your 'friend' that any non registered guests must be out of the hotel after 11pm.

When you come back two hours later asking me for change, while glaring and interrupting a paying guest? I'll possibly snap on you.

Learn your fucking manners, Prost-i-Tot. When you then throw back in my face that I'm being nosy? Guess what. It's my motherfucking right to be as nosy as I goddamn want to be in this hotel. If you think for a second the next time you show your drug ravaged face in my hotel I'll let you in, you have another thing coming.

Cute how the law's on my side, eh?

xoxo,
Ninja.

If You Don't Understand This Joke, We Can't Be Friends Because I'm Too Old For You

So, working nights, and with drunks and the fact I have boobs and smile a lot (I'm paid to, people.) means that I'll inevitably be hit on from time to time from people who do not know how to take no for an answer. Last night, was apparently no exception as I had a military guy check in and then proceed to badger the fuck out of me ask me a bunch of questions. Finally he went to his room, only to call me and ask for my number.

It's against the policy of the hotel, and he was not cute enough for me to risk my job over. I declined, and continued to do so for four hours AFTER the first rejection. Finally, finally, the military man wore me down. Here's (roughly) how the conversation went when he came up to the desk to ask me again.

Military Guy: C'mon, (my name), no one's gonna know. I'm only going to be in (military base near by) for a couple weeks. I just want someone to talk to when I'm bored, y'know?
Me: *sigh and dramatic eyeroll* Seriously? No. I admire the persistent badgering though, but if you think you're the first guy to try this, you're not. I reject everyone, so don't feel too bad.
Military Guy: You're breaking my heart, sweetcheeks. (yes, he seriously called me 'sweetcheeks'. I wish we had been in a place where I don't work...I would have slapped him senseless)
Me: I hear there's a support group for that sort of thing.
Military Guy: C'mon, just give me a number. You know you want to. (said in the creepiest fucking tone that made me gag in front of him)
Me: Fine. I'll say it once, and I'm not waiting for you to write it down.
Military Guy: I have a great memory. Shoot.
Me: 705 867 5309.


He winked, and walked away.

I used a local area code, so I didn't completely give it away, but I hope he hasn't tried to call that number in the wee hours of the night. I don't even think it's a real number....if it is, though....

I hope Jenny answers it.


2012 is kicking ass so far.

2012 Will Be The Year I Judge You Based On Hair Colour

Let me first say, that it has taken me years*

*by years I clearly mean five years working in the intense customer service/hospitality industry during a busy ass holiday season

accumulating this data, and I feel this is the year to reveal everything I know. I'm sorry if this offends you, but it is basically scientific fact. Blondes are bitches. Stupid bitches, at that. I know, I know. You're asking yourselves how I could possibly attack people based on their hair colour, right? (maybe not all of you are wondering...) Little known fact to you, I'm brunette. Almost dark enough to be black, but the birth certificate says brunette. I never had the inkling to be blonde, when I went through the “dye your hair to look cool” phase of life, I dyed my hair shades of red, black and purple. Yes, at the same time.

Now, though, I look somewhat normal (some people object to that, those people aren't reading this right now) I've started looking at people and trying to judge their character by how they dress, speak and hold themselves in a public setting. Intoxication levels are also taken into account, and sometimes I'm lucky enough to see both the before, during and after. I've boiled it down to hair colour determining how fantastic you are.

Redheads? They are wild, motherfuckers. I have yet to have a true ginger not come into my hotel and create such havoc that the room they're given can be sold the next day. Today, for example, three rooms are out of order and of those three rooms, two of them had gingers. I love them, though, because while they bring the wild out like no tomorrow, they do it in a generally respectful manner. I didn't even know those two rooms were being systematically destroyed last night, because the Reds destroyed that shit quietly. Like goddamn ninjas.

Brunettes? We are a tricky breed. Most of the time we're assholes, and give other brunettes a lot of shit. I've noticed that unless a brunette is feeling kind, or likes staring at my tits, they'll ignore me and do whatever the fuck they want to. For the most part, though, a warning can shut them up and make them turn into bargaining “please don't kick us out we'll behave” children. I can handle most brunettes, and last night they listened pretty fucking well. Only 300 dollars in noise complaint charges last night in the brunette section.

Blondes? I motherfucking hate blondes right now. I'm sorry, I know that's harsh. I have friends who had the misfortune of being born blonde. They're nice enough people. It looks like my nephew might be a blonde. I'm hoping he doesn't turn into an asshole, but it wouldn't shock me if he did. Last night I had to deal with four major Blonde moments. None of them funny or pretty, at least, during the time. One blonde moment was when I was busy calling cabs for people to go out and celebrate the New Year. Little Miss Thang decides I wasn't doing a good enough job and tried to come around the counter to touch my phone. I had security (in the form of a maintenance guy who drew the short stick) so when I hollered at her he got all grr face, but I had the situation handled. Miss Thang went away and outside, with the help of her beau.

Second Blonde to fuck with my relatively peaceful night was so intoxicated it was intense. I was drunk just breathing near her, y'all. I automatically put on my Kid Gloves to handle her, because I know from experiences Super Drunk Blondes are ticking time bombs. I wasn't proven wrong this time, either. Her and her friend (a drunk Brunette) came to the desk because they had lost their key. Not a problem, you say? I disagree. By Law, it is technically illegal for me to make a new key for a person not registered to the room they are trying to get into. Now, during the weeknight, if I know the person, or I know they're staying in a room and they aren't registered to the room (normally a construction crew being lax on putting all the names down), I'll let it slide and give them a key. New Years Eve, where experience tells me the number of domestics and “you can't fucking stay here anymore, bitch” moments that I dealt with? You ain't on the card, you ain't getting in. I was a stone cold bitch. I offered alternatives to the ladies, and tried to keep the situation as calm as I could, but Super Drunkie was having none of it. J (my maintenance guy) was on edge, because he's not used to me getting yelled at. I let them call this guy from my work phone, but he wasn't answering. She told me she was a receptionist and let people dial the phone themselves all the time (which I wouldn't do, partly because germs, partly because drunkie, partly because I'm a bitch and mainly because I never let anyone behind the desk and the phone is a goddamn giant one that's attached to the actual desk) and I MUST be the problem, dialling the wrong number over and over. Yeah. Oh-kay. Drunk versus painfully sober? Nice try.

Twenty minutes of sitting in the lobby later, the guy comes in with two other girls and thus ensues a minor freakout because Drunkie thought he was ditching her. He let her come up, and she got all snarky “I told you so” on me, to which I laughed and asked her to remember this for next year, when she had to sign in and read the papers that clearly state “If You Aren't On The Registration Card, You Will Not Get A Key”.

Hallway Blonde was half drunk and half stupid, but Fully ready to debate with me about that paper I just mentioned. New Years Eve, it is standard for a hotel to have extra forms and coverage for people to sign. We aren't stupid, kids. You cannot check into a hotel on New Years Eve and genuinely expect us to not assume you're there to party and drink and be stupid. We cover our asses with a piece of paper that states The Hotel has the right to evict without notice, The Hotel has the right to charge for noise without a prior warning, and The Hotel has the right to refuse permitting anyone into the hotel without proper ID.

Hallway Blonde and her 10 friends decided to party in the upstairs hallway. I got my ass reamed out, my ear torn off and verbally spanked by no less than six people who were trying to sleep at 5 am because of them. Guess how excited I was to walk my ass upstairs and deal with them? Automatic noise charges, that's how excited. I walk up, and most of the group is apologetic and stupidly telling me the room numbers (I would have stayed upstairs longer to watch them go into the rooms, but they for the most part told me the rooms they were in-made my job easier) and agreeing to go straight to bed. Hallway Blonde thought I was in the wrong and proceeded to lecture me for my approach and execution of clearing the hallways out. I asked her if she had read the paperwork and signed it, and she had. I politely may have told her that I didn't need to be so nice to give the $100 a room charge, I could just tell them to get up and leave my hotel. It clearly states this in the paperwork. She then argued that she wasn`t in the room so it shouldn`t count. At that point I pulled the paperwork out (I had the foresight to have a blank copy of the paperwork the drunks had signed with me) and pointed to the part that states they are responsible for their actions in any part of the hotel, inside or out. As long as they are on the property, if they are excessively stupid (aka noisy) I can charge or evict as I see fit.*

*I was God last night, people. I ruled with an Iron Fist and rocked the audit harder than Ron Jeremy`s erection.

She then went on a rampage that had four people coming out of their rooms to not only yell at her to shut up, but at me for not containing the noise. I apologised to the people who she had woken up, told her friends she had ten seconds to get into her room and to expect a higher noise charge. They wisely listened and that was that.


The last Blonde, is my most favourite Blonde ever. Blonde Number 4 is male, for starters. He was the only person I called the police on last night, and the only person to successfully get four seperate rooms noise complaint charges. He was so intoxicated it was kind of humorous. Unfortunately, he was also incredibly tall and bulky and did not like listening to people. He got the rooms he was in the noise charges, and those people had the wise notion to kick him the fuck out of their rooms before they got evicted (at that point, I was ready to just boot the lot of them, they were making my night less than pleasant). So Dumbass (appropriate nickname and you will read why in a minute) decided to take his half full case of crappy beer and leave my property. Drinking an open beer.

I cannot express to you how fucking stupid that is. Technically, you can`t drink in my lobby or hallways. The Hotel owns that property, and we are not licensed so we can technically be fined. But in the hotel rooms? That is different. The guest technically owns that property for the night, or however long they rented the room for. We cannot control the drinking (or other things) in that room, even though we try to monitor it. But the second you leave my property, and possibly endanger something or someone else? I personally can get fined up to FIVE GRAND for not calling the cops to alert them. Plus Dumbass was a true douchecanoe, and I wanted to stick it to him.

When I called the police, the lady taking the information down actually sighed. It turns out another hotel in my city got the shitty party people and their hotel only has 5 (out of 110 rooms) available to sell, because the rest of them had to be put out of order. The cops were just down the street from me the whole time. Twenty minutes later, Dumbass comes back raging, ready to throw a few swings and I possibly taunted him. I`m an asshole, and even if J hadn`t been there I still would have taunted him. I was standing by the panic button (still so fucking cool to say) and the cops hadn`t left yet, they were watching him to make sure he got into his room. He huffed and puffed and made more noise, but eventually he went to his room and I went back to playing solitaire.

Now, I respect that there are some blondes out there who are fabulous and well behaved members of society. Those blondes do not come to my hotel or live in my city. I also took age into account while accumulating data, but for the most part, age has no affect when you look at hair colour.

Instead of charging based on age, I might start charging more based on hair colour. See how that works out.

Here`s hoping 2012 brings me more whore stories (I know you love them), less crazies hiding in my storage rooms, and a more interesting social life.

How did you guys celebrate the New Year?

It's A Battle To The Death, But With Hookers and Drunks Instead of Shanks

I don't even know where to begin.

Tonight is.... going to be interesting. I'll try to document as much as I can, but kids? It's going to be a shit show.

I am tired, good luck to me napping, and I'm walking into an audit that isn't going to balance.
I also hear tonight's a busy night, what with drunk people trying to 'get it in' one last time before the year changes over.

I have some 'backup' tonight, in the form of a maintenance guy they suckered into working with me, but it could go either way. He'll either be a super help, or end up sleeping half the night away.

On a happier note,
My nephew is finally here! Wee boy arrived Thursday morning, happy and healthy and everyone's already back home. It should be fun, living with a newborn again (and now a three year old who has serious jealousy issues) I'm just grateful I live in the basement.

I'm going to go and try to do this whole napping thing I hear is helpful,
and I hope you all have a fantastic New Years Eve and a great start to your year!!!

Come At Me With An Apology And I Think You're About To Stab Me

Dear hot and awkwardly drunk boy,

I'm using you today as an example of what to never ever do when approaching the desk of a hotel.
Don't say "I'm realllllyyyyy sorry" before I notice your state of intoxication.
I nearly shit my pants tonight because I saw hands in pockets, dark and mysterious tall man, who smelled yummy, coming at me with a fucking apology.
You know who apologizes, hot and awkwardly drunk boy?

People about to rob me.

People who are about to throw knives/darts/babies at my face.

People who have weapons hiding in their pants, that aren't attached to them.

Those kinds of people start with an apology.
Never apologize because you were too drunk to drive, and the voice of your mother scared you into walking 3 miles to get to my hotel, where you've been before so you know I'd give you a drunk guy rate.
You're smart, peanut.
One day I'll have you trained.

Happy Holidays, my friends.

Love,

Ninja

I Am Not Your Friend, You Dirty Trollop!

Dear 'Valued Guest'

I think I speak for both night audits when I tell you to go fuck yourself.
We deal with your bullshit, every.fucking.night.
I, for the most part, ignore you and give you my "I'm only smiling because I'm being paid to" smile.
You confused that with a genuine interest in your life, until the night you tore into me when I was dealing with more drama than your room has ever been a part of. You threatened me, you threatened to have my job and you assume you're 'important' because you're always here.

Princess?
You're the last person we want to see here, and I'm ranking you below the creepy porn guy. Which clearly says a lot.

So I have to ask you.
How, and where, do you get off thinking I'd like to receive a Christmas gift you're making yourself? I'm not telling you, or anyone at this hotel for that matter, what my "Most Favouritest Colour Ever IS!" Because fuck you. I hate clutter, I generally have a hard time accepting gifts from family members, let alone a stranger I Clearly only tolerate.

I know I sound like a bitch, but I have declined your offer twice. Politely. But if you bring in another person at my work to harass me about giving a favourite colour, I will snap at you in the most Un-Christmas Spirit Ever. You cannot buy back the respect you lost from me, and I will continue to say politely "No thank you".

Spread your holiday 'cheer' elsewhere, please and thanks.
-Ninja.

P.S. The next time I see you bringing your business through my lobby where they try to PEE INTO THE PLANTER, I will call the cops and have you evicted. And your little dog too.

It's The End Of A Goddamn Era, Kids

Okay, so I've been in super secret ninja mode for the past... five days.
I got a job offer and it's a serious one and I had to
a) consider my options
b) figure out what the fuck I wanted to do
c) do it.

Saturday night, by the by, I only called the cops once, and it wasn't even for a hotel related issue. I had a drunk passed out (and I thought he was dead-no lie) outside leaning against my sign and it was tacky looking. I listened to the health and safety flag waving in my brain and let them boys in blue (technically black, but I didn't want to sound racist) handle that situation. Funniest twenty minutes of my life, y'all.

Anywhore.

The moral of this story, is I have 25 days left at this job, and in 30 days I am flying to a colder, much more isolated, I am almost certifiably insane, smaller province in Canada. For a year.
This is a much nicer place, people.
http://www.frobisherinn.com/ <--- yeah, I'm gonna whore that link out like one of my regular hookers. I figure if anyone really wants to pay the 900+ dollars one way to fly in and stalk my ass, they should probably get a medal.

This place is located in Iqaluit, Nunavut.
It's a once in a lifetime chance, and after five days of no sleep and so many pro and con lists, I'm doing it.
You cannot drive there, you literally have to fly (anytime) or take a ship (summer only, because otherwise...there is ice.)

So! With that all being said, because I have a year to stick it out in the cold cold North, where there is limited? internetz, I feel like the next 30 days are going to turn into a batshit crazy marathon of packing, moving, packing shit for Nunavut, saying goodbye (my first goodbyes start this weekend coming up, I'm already ready to cry) and getting ready to take on the average -30 degree temperatures.

I'm toying with the idea of doing a "moving to Iqaluit" blog, because there aren't many recent ones out there, that I've been able to find. I won't be able to write about the hotel, because I'll have my ass handed to me, but I feel like I can still write about my experiences up there. I'm sure it's going to be a crazy ride, and I want to share.

If I can't, I might just keep a journal, and then bombard you guys in a year.
Whatcha think?

Dearest Snivelling Crackwhore...

Hi.
It's me, your unfriendly night audit.
Why unfriendly, do you say? Well, its probably because you called me a C U Next Tuesday, in front of a family with small children. Also probably because you wished me to "burn with the flames of a thousand cigars" which while I found hilarious, and laughed, I now reflect you likely meant that to be insulting. That explains the two middle fingers I received promptly afterwards.

You were kind enough to let me check the scared family in, though.
So thank you.

But then proceeding to try and check out and take your john's money?
Uncool, bitch. UN.Cool.
When I wasn't hip to your game, and wasn't caving because I clearly have my "don't fuck with me" face on today (as opposed to all those other nights that wool gets pulled over my eyes..) You then proceeded to cry to me. Crying.
Hookers Don't Cry In Hotels. It's like baseball, but, different profession.

So crying to me, naturally, made me irritated. Your bullshit sob story about how you had to use the phone and get home and fine if you're going to be a bitch I'll just get beat tomorrow then, Doesn't Work Here.*

*If I legitimately believed this woman was in any danger, I would have tried to help her. But this 'I'm going to get beat if you don't give me the money RIGHT.NOW. story came after I asked her if she wanted to cry in her room. Sorry, my bullshit meter exploded with that story.

So crying didn't work. Clearly.
Sorry, I live with a three year old and if her puppy dog eyes and tears of the injustice known as life won't have me caving, there's no chance in hell of you making me give in.

But then, you pathetic whore,
you turn your back, whispercall me a bitch, and then proceed to cry silently,
snivelling and snorting the snot back.
For. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes.

People, I was held hostage by a fucking hooker tonight.

Sidenote: I cannot leave the desk when someone is standing there. It's legitimately against policy, and it's the only Health and Safety thing I abide on the regular. People tend to follow you back if you go into the office and this room is a one door exit only kind of situation. Fuck that.

Two minutes into the hostage, I plopped the box of Kleenex on the counter. People who don't blow their noses and act like insolent five year olds drive me up the fucking wall. I think proceeded to ignore her and do 95% of my audit, five hours early. I figured I'd make my hostage-d time useful.

But then, after you badgered me into letting you call a friend to take you home (aka get crack,because let's be real- that face doesn't look like a diseased manwhore without some effort) you then proceeded to stand there and talk to the person like I wasn't there. Telling him that you're hysterical, sweets, was an exaggeration. Calling me a fat ugly worker, incredibly untrue. I prefer curvy average slacker, thank you very much. Get your shit together.

I'm grateful you went away and came back higher than a goddamn kite.
You're hopefully passed out in the room you absolutely couldn't stay in tonight, yet did?
It's also passed 1am, toots, and you ain't on no bus.

Next time, take these tips and adhere to them, so we can both feel better, mmmmkay?

-No Crying In My Hotel Unless you're beaten.
- Stay Classy Because no one likes a stupid bitch.
- Less Perfume/Make-up Or learn how to put it on/what smells not death-like.
- No Name Calling Because we all know how that ends up.
Also.

If You Want The John's Deposit For The Room, YOUR NAME HAS TO BE ON THE RESERVATION. Otherwise, kindly fuck off.

Thankssomuch!
Lines and Kleenex,

Ninja

Please Don't Whore Your Bitch Out For Your Crack

Okay.

I had a post about non-hotel related things and my computer ate it so I will take that as a sign I should stick to the funny and stupid shit that goes on in my hotel bubble. Like this Stupid Fucking Woman (SFW from now on) who seems to think we are best friends fo lyfe even though that one weekend where I wanted to stab everyone and everything because of all the bullshit she verbally abused and belittled me, is back.
She's like the worst case of acne a teenager can get. She is offstandish, complains about everything I do and then turns around and says “Hey Girl!” like a large black woman might, except she resembles a crack addicted hooker. Which, she is. Or her dog is. I'm unsure of which is the whore and which is the crackwhore.

Last night, I got drunk from her fumes. I swear to baby Jesus, I was tipsy and I held my breath for 90 percent of that conversation. Absurd, how involved a person wants to be in your life when all you do is hand them hotel room keys and turn a blind eye to her ultimate bitchy remarks. Winners like “I can't believe they let a girl work alone here” and “Don't worry, no one will blame a little girl like you for this mess” are things that are routinely heard from this woman when she's sober.

I may actually like her better drunk. Is that wrong?

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.

An Open Letter To Less Intelligent Hookers

Dear Hooks,

Hassling the nice audit girl at the desk at 3:30 in the goddamn morning when you and she clearly know whats up? Very uncool. I don't come into your room and criticize the way you're blowing your latest 'husband', do I? I don't come up to you and tell you what flavour of condom you should buy next, or if your hair truly does look like it's 1980s meets Time Warp... no. No.I.DO.NOT.

Mainly, for the most part, hooks, I got your back. Pimp's beating you, I'll call them boys in blue so you can scatter like the wind.

You need a condom? We sell them here. You need mix for your drinks so Big Bob doesn't hurt so much? We sell pop, too. We turn a blind eye as long as you don't fucking piss us off or have too much traffic.

So, hooks, coming in and rage-yelling at me because I'm not falling for your “husband will come and pay for tonight on his credit card so give me the 90 bucks I JUST GAVE YOU NOW BITCH” schtick, ... don't you see how you've left a really bad taste in my mouth and my soul life mission is to now make it impossible for you to stay here?

I'm sorry if he's a picky bastard and won't pay for a room that you've Already paid for.
Maybe plan better next time.

Also, protip 101? Never threaten to have any night audit call the hotel owner/manager/boss.
I can guarantee you that's the quickest way to a 430am wakeup call that accidentally goes off every 15 minutes, especially if you're a bitch stubborn person about it and actually make us call.

Because we run this shit at night, and our bosses know it. Calling them is essentially like kicking yourself in the crotch with fire ants. Not only do you wake someone up in the middle of their sleep with a guest issue that you can handle on your own, but they then have to deal with an angry hooker at 345am?

Yeah.
I can't post what I want to actually say, because even under the mask of anonymity I fear backlash.
It's not pretty. It resembles a dirty sailor and trucker meeting up to have heathen babies.

-Ninja


****sidenote******

I have never been so belittled by a hooker, ever. I had some respect for this particular one before she lost her shit on me.

Bright side: It's my Friday! I'm working this weekend (heaven help me) so I get Wednesday Thursday off, go team middle of the week break!

Have a great week/end, you fine feathered creatures.

Health&Safety: How A Ninja Handles Her Shit, Safely. Sort Of.

A few months ago, I had my first annual review at this new hotel. I walked in expecting a few slaps on the wrist, because (let's face it- when I walk around barefoot all night and take no shit from anyone, I'm bound to have a few “areas of improvement” checked off) my work doesn't like to give out 100%'s to anyone. That's fine. What I didn't expect, though, was the Health and Safety area to need improvement. What I took that to mean was “Please stop jumping on the counters to clean the shelves and shutting the doors”. What they actually meant was “Start paying attention to situations that you shouldn't handle on your own and call those fine men in the blue”. Which got me thinking. I'm a total bad ass ninja 95% of my time here. I can handle it, unless knives come out (and they have. Whats up, panic buttons? Ever want to see hot half naked construction men race to the lobby in their boxers at 3am? Pull that bitch.) but there were other times that I have been told “You should have called the cops!”

Tonight, I present to you a list of scenarios, what my boss' (or coworkers) have told me to do, and what I actually did.
Situation One: Name Calling
What Happened: Guest A had checked in before I arrived for the night. Guest A went out, got absolutely smashed. Guest B had been travelling all night, come in tired and bitchy and needed the kid-glove approach to keep her from losing her shit on everyone and anything that moved. Guest A chose this time to return back to my lobby and start hitting on me. I politely advised the guest to stfu and go to bed, but he was having none of it. Guest B was irritated, Guest A sensed it with their drunken spidey sense and pounced. Explosion of tired meets drunk meets me watching as the most outrageous fight ever happens. Guest A started calling names, Guest B threw some threats out there, it was absurd. What I Should Have Done, According To My Boss: Called the cops. Hands down. Things almost escalated to a full scaled fight and we could have been liable. Or some legal bullshit. Or I could have been hurt? What I Did Instead: Safety Sam over here, I chose instead to stand and listen to the battle of drunken vs tired wits until the threats turned serious enough. Then I stepped around the safety of my counter (!) and air guided Guest A to his room while instructing Guest B on how to get to theirs. Thankfully down a different hallway. Why: I did this because I hate calling the cops.
Situation Two: Man Sleeping In LOCKED Storage Room
What Happened: I was running behind on my audit. Typical on a Wednesday night. Whatever, don't judge- hot drunk construction men see fit to entertain me with their smiles and deep voices, I'm not going to pause that shit and do 'work'. So I was running behind and karma thought it would be funny to hide printer paper. So I walked to the other side of the hotel, far away in the middle of nowhere land, to the Storage Room. This room holds many things. Decapitated clowns, chairs that people have...um... spoiled, a fridge that has beer people leave behind,... and my audit files. It also holds things like spare printer paper, boxes and the unused cots which we have. There's a patio door that has been blocked off and every night when I do my rounds I check the door by twisting it to make sure it's not unlocked. That night, it was locked. Fast forward to 5am and I'm walking in, loudly, because I'm in the middle of no where and it was time for my daily dance off. With myself.
Sleeping.On.A.Cot.
There was a man. Fully clothed (thank fucking god) but still, nonetheless. I had thrown the door open and turned the light on so I could barge in and grab my shit and be on my way. What I Should Have Done, According To My Bosses And Everyone Who's Heard This Story: Ran. Called the cops and grabbed something to defend myself with. Woken up the restaurant owner who lives in the hotel, and had him stay with me until the po-po pranced on over.What I Did Instead: Gawked at the man while he was woken up, and when he rudely gave me shit for walking into the room (Because CLEARLY I was in the wrong here, mister) I apologised and shut the light off, locked the door and closed it quietly so's not to disturb him. Yup. And then I slowly walked back to my desk, trying to figure out what the fuck happened. Waited for my boss to call, as she does every morning, and when she flipped her shit with worry I crossed my fingers when I promised to not go back down to the room again. I went back down there after the restaurant opened, with strict instructions to assume I had been stabbed and needed help if I wasn't back up at the desk within 10 minutes. Why: I hate calling the cops. I also thought, for some ridiculous reason, that the man was supposed to be there. He was very convincing in his indignation at my intrusion. Also? I went back down there because by that point I was pissed my ninja status was in question and I wanted to kick some trespassing ass. (He was gone by the time I got back down there, but he had been kind enough to leave the cot used so I know I wasn't crazy).

And Finally,

Situation Three: Ball Hockey Bastards
What Happened: Ball Hockey weekend. Refer to previous post, if you wish. Long story short, two drunk asshats decided to see who had the bigger dick in my lobby by showing off to their friends and start a pushing and yelling drunken match that had one missed punch and LOTS of dramz. What I Should Have Done, According To My Boss: Call the cops. I could have been hurt. Supposedly.

What I Did Instead: I'm clearly the Safety Expert here. I kicked my heels off, hollered louder than the jerkholes cheering the fight on, so I startled the masses, pushed my way through and forced myself between the two drunken fools. Sweet talked one into sitting in the corner while I walked the other one to his room and told him to stay there. Why: I hate calling the cops. I'd rather risk next to anything than have to give the control over to the men in blue.


***********disclaimer:************ I DO call the cops. On things like, New Year's Eve (where there's bloody spatter or girls gone fucking crazy and I have too much to deal with), when domestics are involved (of course the po-lease take a full 40 minutes to show up, so, y'know, my domestic has time to fester into a full fledged murder...), and when people try to pull a knife on me. Anything else, I try to handle that shit on my own. But a Ninja does know her limits. Maybe. Sort of.

I'm learning, people.

I hope everyone is having a fantastic weekend, I'm going to be stretching and getting ready for next weekend, formerly known as Month End Hell, Halloween Style.

Any ideas on what I can dress up as, in a work appropriate manner?
Zombies are so last year.

There Should Be A Better Post Here, But My Hotel Is Trying To Kill Me

By getting so cold you can see your breath.
I shit you not, people.
I have the heat cranked in this office, which is doing nothing but making me doubt its worthiness of being called a 'heater'. I prefer the term "device that is loud and points heat in wrong direction"
Out in the lobby, where all my work is sitting in snow (I'm almost not kidding. It's almost cold enough in my lobby for snow.) it is now 60 motherfucking degrees in there.

I'm not above sexual favours to get the fireplace working by Sunday night when I come back.

And for the record,
I am wearing:
long pants. heavy, the soft and snuggly kind that still look professional and keep them boys coming back.
a tank top. layers, people. it's key to survival here.
a tight tshirt, because it holds the girls in a better place than 'stomach'.
a blouse. gotta keep it classy here, we ain't no Super8. (oooooo burn.)
my own sweater. (completely unprofessional, but, fuckyou its cold.)
A WORK JACKET. Because I am a thief in the night and steal warm shit from people who leave it lazing about my office. You forgot it? Here. I'll warm that bastard up for you.
yeah.
I'm legitimately tempted to get my scarf and hat.

I also know this isn't in my head, because I have had a few of the guys coming back from bar-land offer me coffee/their jackets. Because even my nose is cold.*

Fuck this.

*For...everyone here: My nose is the last piece of me that gets cold. Once my nose is cold, I turn into whiney bitch central. It's a proven fact.

If I thaw out in the next two hours, I'll finish my H&S post. Until then,
send me warmth, purdy please.

all the ups and downs and you can't get off

Alright.

Most of my toddlers are gone, so I'll actually start working on that saga I promised a while ago.
Not tonight, though.
Or this weekend
Or next week.

Tonight Im mopping up carpet, and trying to stay sane.
It's harder than it sounds, when you have parties to shut up (oh hai, I'm 23 and I look like I'm MAYBE 15 on a good day? Picture that coming to your door to ask you to be quiet. Yeah. You can stop laughing now.) and when you constantly have drunks thinking I have all the time in the fucking world to deal with their really bad attempts at picking me up..
And then a room floods.
Not just, a little flood.
A flood that started after 11, maybe, and kept flooding until after 12 when I was forced to leave my office and go deal with something completely unrelated.
It's super working on nights like these, lemme tell you.

This weekend, for all us Canucks out there, is Thanksgiving. Nomz.
I work, so obviously we're also a sold out hockey tournament weekend.
18-30 yearolds.
The temptation to do some shots before work, I will not lie, is high. I'm going to try and power through.

This week coming up I'm moving, so, expect insanity and possible bone breaking, because it's not a moving party without a little blood in my life.

Right now, though, I'm blaring inappropriate music and preparing for round 6 with the mop.
Wish me luck.

The Drunk Toddlers Saga: The Sweet Kid

He’s already gone, and has been for a long while. Still remember him though.
His real name was a common one, a few of the guys had that name too and so they called him a slew of nicknames. Garth, Shy Kid, Cobra, and something else that I can’t remember. I called him my Sweet Kid. He’s younger than I am, and he started with the boys the same time I started at the hotel. It took him three months of working this job site and staying at my hotel for him to come out and talk to me without the rest of the guys. Adorable, for one. Not the prettiest guy on the crew, but I have never been one for looks and looks alone. He was hilarious once you got past the shy bullshit and had him more sober than a Wednesday night.

He was the one who forced a hug on me when I came to work the night after my uncle died.
The one who I first told about being pregnant, even though that eventually blew up in my face (protip 2398? Don’t tell a boy who is prone to spilling his feelings and thoughts out something you wanted to keep secret from the rest of the toddlers. He’ll spill that shit oh so fast when they razz him for not making a move on me)

He was an awesome guy, an amazing friend. One of the only toddlers to ever get my actual cellphone number, although we don’t talk hardly ever now. That’s what happens when you don’t see each other all the time, right? Sad, but it happens. He went back to school and when his co-op kicked in again, his company sent him to a newer site. I will forever remember the moments he was here and he was my friend, though…

-The time he came out after all the guys had gone to bed to ask for a wake up call, as an excuse to come out and talk to me in the comfy chairs in the lobby.

-When he heard about my uncle and saw how I wasn’t crying, or showing any emotion he made an ass out of himself and lept over the counter to pull me into a hug after I warned him I’d punch him if he touched me.

-During Christmas, the week before the guys all went on a two week vacation for the holidays, they were all up at the desk saying goodbye (and eating the cookies and muffins I had made) he came up, went behind the desk and kissed me in front of all of them. Strong lips- he must practice on watermelons, or something.*

Safe to say that he was and will always be one of my favourite Drunk Toddlers, my Sweet Shy Kid.


*If you do not understand that line, you need to go back to the 80s and educate yourself. That is all.