Standin at the front desk at work, doin my thing, UT vs. LSU game this weekend, lots of people at the hotel.
This one guy that was already in house when I got here, comes up to me, in his wheelchair, tells me he had an accident in his room and he wanted to give the maids a heads up. No problem, I figure he wet the bed. Old, handicapped, diabetic, that sort of thing.
A few minutes later, the head housekeeper comes to the front desk tellin me we are going to have to charge him $150 for damages to his room. At this point, I'm wonderin what kind of accident he had. I go down to 102 and open the door, only to be almost knocked off my feet with the smell of rancid shit.
He Shit on the bed, the floor, the wall, the shower curtain, the sink, the refrigerator, the chairs, the table, the curtains... It soaked through the 2 inch thick mattress pad to the mattress, it got on the headboard and was running town the side of the bed next to the wall, dripping in a nice rancid puddle.
In the Bathroom, there was blood everywhere, all over the mirror, in the bathtub, on the toilet, even on the ceiling.
I call the owner. He was next door at one of his other properties.
"Isabell needs you to come over here and look at a room."
He comes down, chit chats for a minute, then asks what room, and goes back to 102.
Well at this time, the guest in question as decided he's going to take a nap on the couch in my lobby while they clean his room. Layin on the couch, with some shorts on that seem to be airin out his Junk real well.
The owner comes back, mouth agape, eyes wide with fear/disgust. He starts yelling. When he yells, he forgets prepositions and things because he is from India and never really lost all of his accent.
"YOU TELL HIM HE NO STAY HERE!"
"HE SHIT ALL OVER BED!"
"I THROW AWAY ALL THINGS IN ROOM NOW, THIS COST BIG MONEY!"
"YOU CHARGE HIM $200 EXTRA RIGHT NOW!"
All along, the guy in question is laying here listening to the whole conversation. I'm trying to calm mike down and pulling up the account at the same time. Mike decides, "Never mind you, I tell him, is he where?"
"Well mike, I think ya already told him.", as I point to the guy laying on the couch. Mike's eyes narrow and he walks right out there to him and says, "YOU SHIT IN MY BED!"
sorry about that, I've been sick and it was an accident...
YOU FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO STAY, YOU NO STAY HERE!
I'll pay extra for anything I damaged...
YOU PAY DOCTOR BILLS FOR MAID THROWING UP CLEANING ROOM?
Well, I'm a diabetic and I just get sick sometimes, I couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.
I'M A DIABETIC TOO, I DON"T SHIT IN MY BED, YOU SHIT IN BED AT YOUR HOME?
Sometimes...
THEN YOU NO LEAVE HOUSE, YOU STAY AT HOME AND SHIT IN YOUR BED, YOU NO STAY HERE!
<somethin somethin disability act of 1991>
THIS MY HOTEL, I OWN. I NO KICK YOU OUT BECAUSE YOU DISABLED, I KICK YOU OUT CAUSE YOU SHIT IN MY BED! BLOOD EVERYWHERE IN BATHROOM, YOU KILL SOMEBODY?
No I hurt my leg and it isn't healing well because I'm diabetic.
YOU SIT ON ROOF? WHY BLOOD ON TOP?
This went on and on and on for about 30 minutes. Mike was as mad as I have ever seen him. I would have felt sorry for the poor guy had I not seen the room. So I decide I'm gonna call around for him and see if I can't find him a room. I called the Super 8 next door, sure enough, they have a vacant room for him. Unfortunately his car was in the shop, that's why he's stayin in a hotel. He has no way to get there. I talked it over with Isabel and she said she'll drive him over there.
Mike hears what I'm doing and says that he sold that hotel to a friend of his and he doesn't want to put him through all that. He calls his friend and tells him not to rent to him, send him down the street to Baymont, our competition.
Isabel comes back and walks up to mike and pokes him in the chest with her finger and says "You mean." and walks away.
Jesus titty fucking Christ that was disgusting. I should have taken pictures and sent em to Blackmagik.
This one guy that was already in house when I got here, comes up to me, in his wheelchair, tells me he had an accident in his room and he wanted to give the maids a heads up. No problem, I figure he wet the bed. Old, handicapped, diabetic, that sort of thing.
A few minutes later, the head housekeeper comes to the front desk tellin me we are going to have to charge him $150 for damages to his room. At this point, I'm wonderin what kind of accident he had. I go down to 102 and open the door, only to be almost knocked off my feet with the smell of rancid shit.
He Shit on the bed, the floor, the wall, the shower curtain, the sink, the refrigerator, the chairs, the table, the curtains... It soaked through the 2 inch thick mattress pad to the mattress, it got on the headboard and was running town the side of the bed next to the wall, dripping in a nice rancid puddle.
In the Bathroom, there was blood everywhere, all over the mirror, in the bathtub, on the toilet, even on the ceiling.
I call the owner. He was next door at one of his other properties.
"Isabell needs you to come over here and look at a room."
He comes down, chit chats for a minute, then asks what room, and goes back to 102.
Well at this time, the guest in question as decided he's going to take a nap on the couch in my lobby while they clean his room. Layin on the couch, with some shorts on that seem to be airin out his Junk real well.
The owner comes back, mouth agape, eyes wide with fear/disgust. He starts yelling. When he yells, he forgets prepositions and things because he is from India and never really lost all of his accent.
"YOU TELL HIM HE NO STAY HERE!"
"HE SHIT ALL OVER BED!"
"I THROW AWAY ALL THINGS IN ROOM NOW, THIS COST BIG MONEY!"
"YOU CHARGE HIM $200 EXTRA RIGHT NOW!"
All along, the guy in question is laying here listening to the whole conversation. I'm trying to calm mike down and pulling up the account at the same time. Mike decides, "Never mind you, I tell him, is he where?"
"Well mike, I think ya already told him.", as I point to the guy laying on the couch. Mike's eyes narrow and he walks right out there to him and says, "YOU SHIT IN MY BED!"
sorry about that, I've been sick and it was an accident...
YOU FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO STAY, YOU NO STAY HERE!
I'll pay extra for anything I damaged...
YOU PAY DOCTOR BILLS FOR MAID THROWING UP CLEANING ROOM?
Well, I'm a diabetic and I just get sick sometimes, I couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.
I'M A DIABETIC TOO, I DON"T SHIT IN MY BED, YOU SHIT IN BED AT YOUR HOME?
Sometimes...
THEN YOU NO LEAVE HOUSE, YOU STAY AT HOME AND SHIT IN YOUR BED, YOU NO STAY HERE!
<somethin somethin disability act of 1991>
THIS MY HOTEL, I OWN. I NO KICK YOU OUT BECAUSE YOU DISABLED, I KICK YOU OUT CAUSE YOU SHIT IN MY BED! BLOOD EVERYWHERE IN BATHROOM, YOU KILL SOMEBODY?
No I hurt my leg and it isn't healing well because I'm diabetic.
YOU SIT ON ROOF? WHY BLOOD ON TOP?
This went on and on and on for about 30 minutes. Mike was as mad as I have ever seen him. I would have felt sorry for the poor guy had I not seen the room. So I decide I'm gonna call around for him and see if I can't find him a room. I called the Super 8 next door, sure enough, they have a vacant room for him. Unfortunately his car was in the shop, that's why he's stayin in a hotel. He has no way to get there. I talked it over with Isabel and she said she'll drive him over there.
Mike hears what I'm doing and says that he sold that hotel to a friend of his and he doesn't want to put him through all that. He calls his friend and tells him not to rent to him, send him down the street to Baymont, our competition.
Isabel comes back and walks up to mike and pokes him in the chest with her finger and says "You mean." and walks away.
Jesus titty fucking Christ that was disgusting. I should have taken pictures and sent em to Blackmagik.
