|Gratuitous DOGS photo that has nothing to do with the narrative.|
I started off with the usual - coffee from Starbucks (I switched from flat whites to Americanos - they are about $2.50 cheaper - one must be frugal when one is skint), a run-on sentence or two, and of course, Thursday Morning Punishment Breakfast, featuring Astronaut Captain Flushiepants of the Flying Uranus stolen bad karma cream cheese. On ice.
There was one issue - my boss Norbert insisted on having a call with me 'to review the response cards that tell me how good I do'. Last thing I wanted to spend time on. But worse than that, he'd scheduled it right for check-out time.
When it comes to comps, you don't get if you don't ask. So I planned to ask. I pulled up the folio on the TV and what do I see?
A completely screwed up set of charges for my Noodle Shop meal, featuring all my Express Comps gone, and a near $20 tip for Prancing Wade and his Waderly Henchmen - in the exact same amount as my express comps. Not only that, I'd left a very handsome cash tip on the table, in the sum of some 16 and three quarters percent of the pre-tax bill, rounded down of course, for ease of math and cheapness.
This would not do.
I marched, marched, marched, marched etc. to the MILF MLife booth first, asking for things to be comped off my bill.
Long story short - no. I'd barely covered my offer. I wasn't surprised. It always feels good to try, to put oneself out there, to be rejected in front of a host of other patrons and to slink, red-faced, away from the booth, face crimson from the failure of it all. It's cheap entertainment for everyone!
Next stop, the lobby desk, where I met a very nice lobbyist whose name I have forgotten. Let's call him Kevinly. Because why not.
I asked Kevinly to pull up my bill and look - LOOK - at the horrors within. It was shocking! I summoned seven levels of Damnation upon the shifty eyed Wade and his gang of Fancy Fleet Footed Thugs who were expert at demi-pliéing hither and yon and all around the Noodle Shop from first, second, fourth AND fifth positions - all the while stealing my fucking money and stuffing it down their leotards!
After a few hysterical deep breaths (faked) I pretended to calm down completely (also faked) and Kevinly and I got down to business. It was likely that the suspect Wade had simply not known exactly how to split the bill into Express Comps and Room Charge and had perhaps panicked a bit, and given himself a near 50% tip on top of my previously mentioned gratuity.
Kevinly telephoned the establishment in question, spoke rather firmly with various people on the other end of the phone, but ultimately, started to bump into a wall. The problem was that tips were (as was mentioned last post I believe) not able to be comped, and not able to be reversed by a lobbyist.
"Kevinly... what are we going to do here?"
Kevinly thought for a moment. He made typey-typey on a keyboard. He frowned. He made typey typey. An eyebrow lifted. He frowned again, just a little.
"Mr. Flusher, I can't pick up this tip..." he said. His eyes narrowed a bit. Kevinly, you beautiful guy, I can read your thoughts, I thought.
"Really! That makes two of us," said Kevinly.
"What if... you pick up... some other charge..." I said.
Kevinly smiled. He knew.
"Kevinly, I'll tell you what. If you can pick up enough things so that the meal comes out to where it should as far as I'm concerned... I'll be happy with that. And I guess Wade will get his 50% tip."
"I'm on it, Mr. Flusher -"
God love you Kevinly, you wonderful decent lobbyist. I got super late checkout gratis, I got the tip picked up, and I'd made a great friend whose name I can't remember.
Back up in the room, I packed up yet again, tidied, and checked out on the TV. My bill had been updated as we'd agreed upon.
If I have time, I always tidy the room before I check out. I know what its like to have a soul-sucking job cleaning up after a bunch of slobs. I move the furniture back where it was, collect up all the garbage and put it in the bins, move the magazines from the head back to wherever they were, take down the Rick Astley posters, sweep up the peanut shells, and, okay maybe this is a bit much - give the 'rim' a once-over with a wad of toilet paper.
I imagine the housekeeping staff has to deal with the worst. Why not make it a little easier on them?
Everything was set. And then I got notified that my call with Norbert was rescheduled for an hour later. Great. And I had to get out of the room, like, now.
Fortunately, I'd spied an area on my walkabout the day before that would suffice for a call on the computer - a little area with tables and chairs on the lower level that was there to capture business during pool season, and, as a result of it being 45 degrees out, was completely closed for the season.
I wheeled all my shit down there and set up.
I had power, a chair, a table, my Veeblefetzer provided laptop, and a nice view of the fluff coming down the escalator. There were some good looking girls too, from time to time.
I had my call, did my duty, didn't get in trouble, and finally - finally - my work was done for the rest of this trip. I had all of the rest of Thursday, and all of Friday to win back some $4,900.
Funny, I was worried about the money.
I should have been worried, literally, about my life.
It's nice to have
A Facebook friend
Someone who'll share
And not offend.