Archive for the crazies Category

hang up and drive. or park. or drive. or park.

Posted in crazies, lolwut on October 4, 2009 by sarafist

I’ve been watching some guy drive through our parking lot for twenty minutes now.

He went through at that slow drift speed you get in an automatic when you’re not actually accelerating. Then he stopped and sat for a minute. Then he drove forward a few feet and stopped again. Then he reversed twenty-five feet and parked in a space for a minute and a half. He pulled out and drifted forward toward the exit, stopping every few feet. Just when I thought he was about to leave, he slowly reversed again and sat. Then he reversed farther and sat again. Then he pulled forward and sat, drifitng a few feet farther every two or three minutes. He is about six feet from the driveway now.

He’s been on his phone the whole fucking time.

If there were a little girl on a bicycle in the driveway, it’d be just like that drug PSA.

Advertisements

i know

Posted in crazies, tweakers on June 24, 2009 by sarafist

There’s this weird tweaker guy who comes in once in a while to use the phone. As far as I know, he’s never stayed here, but he has a real sense of entitlement going with our lobby phone; he just walks in and starts using it, with a casual, “Mind if I use your phone?” tossed over his shoulder. He’s very polite about it, just in an offhand manner. I was rather bemused once to see him sit down and apparently balance his checkbook on day. He has a much weirder friend who follows him around; this second gentleman rarely speaks other than to say “Hi!”, but he stares at me. A lot.

Today the two came in, Weirder trailing the other by a few minutes. While his friend used the phone, Weirder came up to the desk and struck up a conversation with me.

Hi! Been a while!
How’ve you been?
Are you a Taurus?
Leo?
Pisces?
Aries?
Sagittarius?
I know what you are. [Significant stare and pause.] I know.
You’re a Scorpio! Aren’t you? Are you?
Scorpios are cool. They’re nice.
I always know, I get it on the first try.
Or the second, you know.
On the second or third try, definitely.
You know!
You look like a Taurus. They have a look, you know.
They like water signs. You like Pisces? They’re tight.
Pisces are tight, tight with the money. You know!
Not Leos, man. Leos spend.
My dad was a Leo, and he’s a real spendthrift.
Always staying in fancy hotels and going to California, to Disneyland.
We stay at the lol-iday inn up in Seattle, you know.
When we go to the races.
We go to the lol-iday inn a lot! You know!
You’ve seen us!
We helped with the one out at Troutdale. We did the renovation.
Sean fixed the doors, the ones that’d been kicked in.
I carried mattresses. They had a whole trailer of mattresses.
All on a trailer. A whole trailer or mattresses.
They were heavy, you know.
Lot of work.
But I got stronger!
Okay if we use your phone again?
We might come back to use your phone again.
You see us!
You know!
See you around!
What days do you work?
We’ll see you!
You know we come tot he lol-iday inn! We stay at lol-iday inn!
You know!
See you around!

I thought it would never end.

You know.

911 is somewhat humorous

Posted in cops, crazies, irrational on April 17, 2009 by sarafist

We recently had a fun guest, the likes of which we haven’t had in quite a while. Someone else paid for his eleven-day stay, and the gentleman occupied a smoking single, 218. He had been here a few days when I first encountered him on a quiet Sunday morning. He came down to the office to hang out while the housekeepers finished cleaning his room—or so he told me. He was in here and wandering around outside for a good two hours, and the housekeepers only take twenty minutes max to finish an occupied room, so I am not entirely sure what he was up to besides killing time.


I was quietly sitting, doing some school reading and idly watching the beginning of The Highlander on TV (so awesome!), when he came in and asked whether he could use the lobby computer. I told him to go right ahead. A half hour later, my manager Mike called down to ask how many people were supposed to be in the guy’s room. One, I told him, and Mike said that there was a lot of noise coming from the room, and it sounded like someone talking. He wanted me to ask 218 whether he had anyone else in his room (a common occurrence since many people seem to feel it is beneath them to pay the additional $6.75 for an extra guest). I hung up with Mike, and called to the gentleman, “Excuse me, sir? Is there anyone else staying with you or in your room?”


Whereupon the guy turned around and proceeded to flip the fuck out. “Is there someone in my room? I’m here, I’m the only person in my room, just like you’re standing there and you’re the only person working!” he hollered.

Mildly taken aback, I tried to explain that my manager had heard noise in his room, and asked whether it could be his TV left on if there was no one else there, but that just further infuriated him. “Call the cops! I want you to call the police if there’s people in my room! You go in there and find out who’s in my room!” and so on. After five or so minutes of that, I told him his time was up on the computer (there’s technically a twenty-minute limit), to which he replied, “I’ve only been down here four minutes!” I almost laughed out loud than that, but restrained myself. As he went out the lobby door, he turned and asked, “Are you going to be reasonable?” but then before I could even respond, he put his hands over his ears and shouted, “Please be quiet!” He repeated that four times before finally returning to his room, where it turned out that he had in fact left his television on very loud. Mike came down shaking his head, and said, “That guy is really weird!” Apparently, his room was a disaster area, and he had rearranged all of his furniture.


That was my Friday, and when I returned to work after my weekend, I was thrilled to find him still at the motel. When I logged in to the computer, I found a note for everyone about how 218 had called 911 on Monday night because he had no food. According to the note, the cops had someone bring him a food basket, and then told us that he had some “problems,” and that we should call them immediately if there were any situation with him. Aces! I did not see him at all that night.


A few nights later, 218 came in ten minutes after I started my shift to complain that the cable wasn’t working in his room. So I grabbed my keys and went up to take a look. When I turned the TV around to check it out, I found that there was no cable jack. And the back of the TV was loose, as though it had been removed. Then he came out of the bathroom with all the cables. Mind you, the TV worked fine previously. I told 218 I had to call my manager, and that I would give him a call and let him know what we could do.


When Mike finally called me back, I explained the situation, and he shouted that since the guy had taken the TV apart, he wasn’t going to put another TV in there to be similarly destroyed, and 218 would just have to wait till the next day. If he could come out, he’d try to fix it, but otherwise, the guy was SOL. I called 218 and let him know that since it was Easter Sunday, it was difficult to get the TV fixed, so it might not be fixed till the next day. He seemed lucid and polite, and was even understanding about it.


Two hours later, I got a call from a 911 dispatcher. She wanted to verify that there was a person by his name occupying 218, and then asked me whether I had any reason to believe that the motel was on fire. Hmmm. I looked out the windows, then told her, “None of my alarms are going off, and there’s no visible smoke or fire.” She told me that he was pretty clear about being on fire, so I asked whether she wanted me to go up and check on him. She told me that she wouldn’t suggest that, and that the police would be there shortly. Oh goodness.

The cops arrived a few minutes later and went straight up to his room. They were up there for quite a while when an elderly Volvo station wagon arrived, with two crisis counselors who went up, too. Shortly after, one of the cops came down to explain that the lack of a TV was making his problem worse, and was it possible to get another one? Fearing Mike’s wrath, I described to the officer how he had taken it apart, but called Mike to ask. He remained adamant about the TV, which was not fun to explain to the officer. The officer returned upstairs, and soon after, the crisis counselors left. A little after that, Mike arrived just as the cops were leaving, and talked to them. He came in, grabbed another TV, and took it up to 218.

He checked out the next morning.Maintenance notes after check-out included: broken TV, broken table, broken chair, broken bathroom light, hole in wall by bed.

all we’ve had turned in today are a morning star and a pike

Posted in crazies on October 12, 2008 by sarafist
Creepy, smelly woman in leather pants who’s been staying here for a week: This key isn’t working, and I need to speak to your manager or owner or whatever.
Schatzi: Here’s your reset key, and my manager will be in tomorrow. Is there anything I can help you with?
Creepy smelly woman in leather pants, shaking her head: No, I need to let him know that you have a thief among you.
Schatzi: Oh, really? Is there something missing?
Creepy smelly woman in leather pants: I have two blades that are missing.
Schatzi, thinking of knives: Blades?
Creepy smelly leather pants woman, gesturing with her hands: One this long, and the other about this long.
Schatzi:
What kind of blades?
Creepy smelly leather pants woman, significantly: Swordblades. They’re gone.
Schatzi, remembering how this same woman lost her remote twice the night before, and both times called to say the housekeepers had taken it: And you’re sure you didn’t misplace them?
Creepy smelly leather pants woman, shaking her head: No.
Schatzi: Okay, I’ll be sure to let him know.
Apparently, our nice little housekeepers (who are all matrons with many children and speak very little English) covet swordblades. I’m so sure.

oh, Barry!

Posted in barry hunter, crazies on July 4, 2008 by sarafist

We have an elderly gent staying at The Motel who has been there longer than I have. He’s a very odd duck–we’ll call him Barry Hunter–who doesn’t talk much except to mutter to himself and occasionally meep. He’s kind of like our own extremely crazy but mostly harmless Mr Bean.

Barry’s been getting up to all kinds of shenanigans lately, which I’ll have to further detail later. This past Sunday when I got to work, there was a note about him: “Barry was on fire tonight! Running around till 6:30am, when he finally left. Maybe he’ll be tired out when he gets back.”

I didn’t see Barry Hunter at all til the afternoon. “Barry Hunter returned, 2:35pm,” I noted in the logbook. A few minutes later, the head housekeeper poked her head into the office and reported that Barry had stood at the door of the laundry room until the new housekeeper noticed him, and when she tried to give him a stack of towels for his room (he doesn’t get regular service, but picks up towels as he needs them), he grunted and threw them on the ground, then walked away. Being new and having no English, she was distraught and confused, hence their summoning me. I walked over to Barry’s room, where he was standing and staring at nothing. “Hey, Barry. Did you need something?”
“Washcloth,” he muttered.
“Sure, I can get you a washcloth,” I said, and headed to the laundry with him following behind. I grabbed two and offered him both. “Did you need one or two, Barry?” I asked.
“Washcloth,” he said, grabbing it, and then returning to his room.

Returning to the office, I made a second note: “Barry Hunter terrified housekeeper, 2:35pm.”