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» Jobsworths
Again in the hotel
(Didn't want to add to the bottom of the last answer - length problems - such is life!)
I answered the phone at 8.30am on a Sunday morning. The woman on the other end of the line asked to be put through to Room 365. I tried to connect her but there was no answer. So I asked her did she want to leave a message. She said that she would call back later.
This happened another 4 times with the same woman, never leaving a message, saying she would try later.
By the fifth time, she had obviously had enough, and this time she wanted to leave a message. Pen in hand, I was ready to scribble down the message. This is the message, verbatim:
"Tell that f*cking lying cnut that he can sleep with as many dirty f*cking prostitutes as he likes, but he's never coming back to this f*cking house again. And he'll never seen his children"
I paused on the telephone, expecting her to slam the phone down. Unstead, quite calmly she enquired, "Did you get all that?" I muttered, "A huh".
True to my word, and only doing my job (hey, it was in the rules that all messages should be given promptly to guests), I proceeded to pass on the message to the guest in Room 365. Via the messaging system in the hotel rooms!
The guest in Room 365 came to check out later, and when he did, I asked him (with a grin) whether he had got his message. He had. I had carried out my job correctly, and as far as I was concerned, another happy customer!!
(Tue 17th May 2005, 11:36, More)
Again in the hotel
(Didn't want to add to the bottom of the last answer - length problems - such is life!)
I answered the phone at 8.30am on a Sunday morning. The woman on the other end of the line asked to be put through to Room 365. I tried to connect her but there was no answer. So I asked her did she want to leave a message. She said that she would call back later.
This happened another 4 times with the same woman, never leaving a message, saying she would try later.
By the fifth time, she had obviously had enough, and this time she wanted to leave a message. Pen in hand, I was ready to scribble down the message. This is the message, verbatim:
"Tell that f*cking lying cnut that he can sleep with as many dirty f*cking prostitutes as he likes, but he's never coming back to this f*cking house again. And he'll never seen his children"
I paused on the telephone, expecting her to slam the phone down. Unstead, quite calmly she enquired, "Did you get all that?" I muttered, "A huh".
True to my word, and only doing my job (hey, it was in the rules that all messages should be given promptly to guests), I proceeded to pass on the message to the guest in Room 365. Via the messaging system in the hotel rooms!
The guest in Room 365 came to check out later, and when he did, I asked him (with a grin) whether he had got his message. He had. I had carried out my job correctly, and as far as I was concerned, another happy customer!!
(Tue 17th May 2005, 11:36, More)
» Jobsworths
When working in a hotel
I was working "Inn" this "Holiday" hotel. (Use your brain!)
Sunday mornings used to be a nightmare on reception. Normally you had 150+ out of 165 rooms leaving, the clientele was of the ilk of the chav, gyppo and cheapskate.
It was always the quick way to, instead of printing out the bill for the customer to check (we had dot matrix printers running of a DOS program – it was painfully slow) run through the items that were on the bill, and then state the final total.
Sunday mornings were always the occasion when the bill, according to the customer, was incorrect. Person after person would turn up at the reception desk and deny that they had had any food the night before, they hadn’t touched the mini-bar, they hadn’t had drinks from the bar at 2.00am! It was getting to the stage where we were letting people of with thousands of pounds worth of stuff by the end of the morning.
However, as with all good stories, one morning I snapped. Guy turns up at the reception desk, and as normal I ran through the bill of what he had had. “£65 super-douper cheapo weekend break for 2 adults and 5 children in one room (children stay free), drinks from the bar - £10.90, and dinner £109.80” (Figures have been made up for the purpose of the story).
This is the point where he tells me he hasn’t had dinner. This, I know to untrue. He had had dinner. This I know because I was working in the restaurant last night, and I served him. And the cheap bastard didn’t leave a tip! Even so, he still tries to deny to my face that he had dinner in the restaurant last night.
I was angry at this point. I told him to wait, and went off to get a printout of all of the restaurant bills from the previous night. I then proceeded to go through every bill that was printed out from the night before until I found his receipt, complete with his signature at the bottom of it. I brought the receipt back to him, thrust it under his nose and explained that this was the receipt that he had signed the night before, and that I had remembered serving him, as he had left no tip. Needless to say he didn’t argue about the rest of the bill!
Cue the next person to reception:
“Did you have dinner last night?”
“Yes.”
Nobody was arguing with me that morning!!
Girth, width etc.. etc..
(Tue 17th May 2005, 11:27, More)
When working in a hotel
I was working "Inn" this "Holiday" hotel. (Use your brain!)
Sunday mornings used to be a nightmare on reception. Normally you had 150+ out of 165 rooms leaving, the clientele was of the ilk of the chav, gyppo and cheapskate.
It was always the quick way to, instead of printing out the bill for the customer to check (we had dot matrix printers running of a DOS program – it was painfully slow) run through the items that were on the bill, and then state the final total.
Sunday mornings were always the occasion when the bill, according to the customer, was incorrect. Person after person would turn up at the reception desk and deny that they had had any food the night before, they hadn’t touched the mini-bar, they hadn’t had drinks from the bar at 2.00am! It was getting to the stage where we were letting people of with thousands of pounds worth of stuff by the end of the morning.
However, as with all good stories, one morning I snapped. Guy turns up at the reception desk, and as normal I ran through the bill of what he had had. “£65 super-douper cheapo weekend break for 2 adults and 5 children in one room (children stay free), drinks from the bar - £10.90, and dinner £109.80” (Figures have been made up for the purpose of the story).
This is the point where he tells me he hasn’t had dinner. This, I know to untrue. He had had dinner. This I know because I was working in the restaurant last night, and I served him. And the cheap bastard didn’t leave a tip! Even so, he still tries to deny to my face that he had dinner in the restaurant last night.
I was angry at this point. I told him to wait, and went off to get a printout of all of the restaurant bills from the previous night. I then proceeded to go through every bill that was printed out from the night before until I found his receipt, complete with his signature at the bottom of it. I brought the receipt back to him, thrust it under his nose and explained that this was the receipt that he had signed the night before, and that I had remembered serving him, as he had left no tip. Needless to say he didn’t argue about the rest of the bill!
Cue the next person to reception:
“Did you have dinner last night?”
“Yes.”
Nobody was arguing with me that morning!!
Girth, width etc.. etc..
(Tue 17th May 2005, 11:27, More)
» Other people's diaries
Don't do it....
She's a nice girl. She's very attractive, intelligent, fun to be with. And, bizarrely, she find me attractive.
We're just starting to go out, and I get on really well with her.
So, why do I find it necessary to trawl the internet trying to find out information about her.
And why did I almost vomit when I found her Bebo account.
And why did I read *every* message on there. And every message on all of her friends pages.
I hate myself.
(Thu 1st Feb 2007, 17:07, More)
Don't do it....
She's a nice girl. She's very attractive, intelligent, fun to be with. And, bizarrely, she find me attractive.
We're just starting to go out, and I get on really well with her.
So, why do I find it necessary to trawl the internet trying to find out information about her.
And why did I almost vomit when I found her Bebo account.
And why did I read *every* message on there. And every message on all of her friends pages.
I hate myself.
(Thu 1st Feb 2007, 17:07, More)
» Ignoring Instructions
All I'm going to say
is that I'm employed as a Website Programmer.
I never actually learnt HTML, I have no concept of Javascript, Flash, ASP, PHP or any other language.
I know how to use Dreamweaver though.
But only through playing with it. Never actually read anything about it.
Still...
(Fri 5th May 2006, 14:19, More)
All I'm going to say
is that I'm employed as a Website Programmer.
I never actually learnt HTML, I have no concept of Javascript, Flash, ASP, PHP or any other language.
I know how to use Dreamweaver though.
But only through playing with it. Never actually read anything about it.
Still...
(Fri 5th May 2006, 14:19, More)
» Barred
Hotels
I was barred from all Holiday Inns in the UK once.
This was following a small court case I was planning to bring against them for not giving me a prize for being "Employee of the Year".
Cunts.
Got the prize in the end though. I kept on going near the hotel where I worked for about a month, smiling at the CCTV cameras, and waving at them. Then, I asked for the video footage under the Data Protection Act! And they would have had to black out everybody elses face that wastn't mine. Would have cost them thousands to give me the videos.
No court case, but my parents got a free weekend in a 5* hotel in Paris, all expenses paid.
P.S. The Fort St. George is a great pub. They used to do a pub quiz on a Tuesday night, where one of the prizes was meat! I won many a sausage in there (oo-er missus!)
(Thu 31st Aug 2006, 13:24, More)
Hotels
I was barred from all Holiday Inns in the UK once.
This was following a small court case I was planning to bring against them for not giving me a prize for being "Employee of the Year".
Cunts.
Got the prize in the end though. I kept on going near the hotel where I worked for about a month, smiling at the CCTV cameras, and waving at them. Then, I asked for the video footage under the Data Protection Act! And they would have had to black out everybody elses face that wastn't mine. Would have cost them thousands to give me the videos.
No court case, but my parents got a free weekend in a 5* hotel in Paris, all expenses paid.
P.S. The Fort St. George is a great pub. They used to do a pub quiz on a Tuesday night, where one of the prizes was meat! I won many a sausage in there (oo-er missus!)
(Thu 31st Aug 2006, 13:24, More)