There is a woman on the other side of the office exclaiming things really loudly.  I just heard an “Oh, my lord!” and an “Oh, my gosh!”  I can’t think of many reasons why someone would exclaim something that loudly in a quiet office, so that people on the complete other side can hear you clearly.  Perhaps she won the lottery.  Or is on fire.  In either case, I still can’t justify making these sorts of exclamations for nearly ten minutes.

Well, she’s not on fire.  A loud peal of laughter just echoed throughout the floor.  I think it comes down to this woman is too egocentric to realize / care that her volume is not appreciated by the other workers surrounding her.

Perhaps I should start acting like this woman–she does seem pretty happy, after all.

[Phone rings.]
Teri: HELLO!!
Mr. W: Holy crap you’re hurting my ears….how is your day going?
Teri: OH MY LORD!!  MY DAY IS FINE!!  PRETTY QUIET, ACTUALLY!!  HOW ARE YOU?!
Mr. W: Quiet, huh?  Somehow I doubt that.
Teri: [ANNOYING PEAL OF LAUGHTER!!]
Mr. W: [Hangs up.]

Can I just say that I freakin’ love my job?  I feel incredibly overwhelmed with all the things I don’t know (the sheer number of acronyms is daunting all by itself) but I am learning and I am happy.  It’s like they said, “Hmm, what sort of job could we make for Teri–an independent introvert with a good eye for detail and a penchant for tedious checklists?”  And then they made it.  I came home from work one day and Reid smiled at me and said, “Teri, you’re glowing!” because I was so happy.  And maybe a little because I was slightly sweaty from having decided to walk home instead of taking the train.  But mostly the happy thing.

Things in my life have always seemed to come in threes, and with the new job and the upcoming new apartment, I’m kinda worried what the third life change is going to be.  At this rate, I don’t think it can be any less than marriage and that’s just frightening.  No way, Jose.  Before I left the hotel Sam and Mike were teasing me that I’m going to meet someone at the new job and the next time they see me I’ll be married and having kids.  I then proceeded to explain to them that I have no intention of ever having children, but they didn’t believe me.  “Oh, you’ll change your mind!” they said.  The way I see it is I’ve had this “No Children” policy in effect my entire life, and it ain’t changin’ any time soon.  Some people are meant to be Moms or Dads.  You just look at them and think, “Yeah, she’s totally going to be a good mom.”  I’m not.  My maternal instinct is broken.  I think that babies are ugly and running with scissors could be a good way to develop hand-to-eye coordination.  Right now I get to be the “Cool Aunt” to my friend’s kids, loading them up with sugar and buying them noisy presents on their birthdays.  And who doesn’t like that?

I’ve recently made a goal to be more current with my current events and found an article today in the Chicago Sun-Times about Chicago’s infamous singing cab driver.  Tim rode in his cab once (but was not amused).  Now aren’t you glad to know that?

[The MPAA has rated the following blog entry R for Strong Language, Brief Nudity, and Stylized Sci-Fi Violence.  Okay, really just for the language.]

Angry guests piss me off.  But there comes a point where a guest becomes so enraged that the whole situation becomes incredibly hilarious.  Take last night, for example.

A guest came down with a legitimate complaint.  His keycard wasn’t working, and he’d been to the front desk three times that day alone to get a new key made.  He was frustrated that they weren’t working, and I can understand that.  I would be too.  I made a new card and called the Engineer to meet him at his room to take a look at the door lock–pretty standard procedure.

The guest returns a moment later, surpassing pure frustration and well on his way to outright anger, saying his key still isn’t working.  I told him the Engineer is on his way and will be able to tell him better than I could what the problem is with the door lock.

Guest: “Bullshit.  You’re not doing anything.”
[New Guy Eric steps up to the front desk.]
NGE: “Sir, I’m sorry for this frustration.  The Engineer is…”
Guest: [Gives a long tirade with a lot of bad words about how crappy this hotel is and how angry he is.  I began getting mental images of a stapler bouncing off of the man's forehead and stepped away from the front desk.  I radioed the engineer again and ask him to come to the desk, instead of meeting the guest at his room.  I came back into hearing range.]
Guest: “…and then this girl here…” [pointing at me]
Me: “Excuse me?”
Guest: “You fucking knew a new key card wouldn’t do anything.  This is such bullshit.”
Me: “Sir, you don’t speak to me like that.”

The Engineer finally showed up at the desk, and he and a security guard went with the guest to his room.  Another minute later the guest was back at the desk, having graduated from anger to a full-blown childlike temper tantrum.  Sam, the manager, went out this time.

Guest: “I want to know what you’re going to do about this right now.  I want compensated for this!”
Sam: “I am only authorized to give small room adjustments.  If you want something more, you have to talk to the General Manager.”
Guest:  “This isn’t good enough!  I’m not paying for this!  All your employees here are dumbasses!  This is fucking bullshit!”
[At this point, NGE and I are in the back laughing hysterically.  Seriously, a grown man screaming and banging on the desk.]
Sam: “They are not dumbasses, sir.  They are trying to do their job.”
Guest: “I want in my fucking room!”
Sam: “I will call the Engineer and see what is happening.”
Guest: “I don’t see you calling him!  You aren’t doing anything!”
Sam: “I have to get the radio, sir.  If you’ll just let me.”
Guest: “Bullshit you’re doing something!”
[The guest continues to yell and scream and swear for several minutes.  I called the Engineer from the back to check the status.  Engineer said the door is open and good to go.  I told Sam.]

The guest stalks off and we watch, on camera, as he kicks over a planter in the lobby.  He continues to kick things, and hit some wall sconces as he walks down the long hallway back to his section of the hotel.  He goes into his elevator and perhaps ten or twenty seconds later we get a call from the room next to his, complaining that there’s a lot of banging and screaming.  The room on the floor above calls another second later to complain about the same guest.  Security goes up.

Already long story short, this guest, who wanted an adjustment on his room for the hassle he went through, has racked up several hundred dollars of damage due to the things he hit and kicked in the hallway, and the destruction he caused in his hotel room (he actually tore his room door off of its hinges and shattered the bathroom mirror, cutting his hand).  

To the best of my knowledge, the guest has now calmed down (spending an hour with the head of security might have contributed to this).  I am quite thankful that I won’t be around when this guy checks out in the morning, but us employees had a great time laughing about it tonight.  I mean, it’s a keycard.  In the grand scheme of things, it’s pretty insignificant.

I really hope that guy doesn’t have kids.

Was there just some sort of Scottish holiday I am unaware of?

Yesterday I was walking home from Wal-Greens and heard bagpipes.  I thought to myself, “Is there a parade today?”  A car passed me on the road, and the bagpipes were coming from within the car.  A guy, with his windows down, was blasting bagpipe music.  What an odd thing to blast.  I tried to look, but I don’t think the guy was wearing a kilt.

One day later, I was going down the stairs in my apartment building, and a guy (not the same one) was playing bagpipes.  His name is Jacob and he’s actually pretty cool, but still.  Coincidence?

They say things come in threes, so I’m waiting for my third encounter which, knowing my luck, will consist of being bodily injured by a rogue set of bagpipes.  I’d bet that is a common problem in Scotland.

Anytime I hear “the pipes” I can’t help but think of the movie So I Married an Axe Murderer.  “Piper down!”

“I’m not kidding, that boy’s head is like Sputnik; spherical but quite pointy at parts! Now that was offsides, wasn’t it? He’ll be crying himself to sleep tonight, on his huge pillow.”

I just spoke with a guest named Wilbert Gilbert.  You have to wonder what in the hell his parents were on when they named him.  That’s just mean.  He must go by Will.  I mean, he has to. 

—–

Days like today make me hate being a girl.  I was walking to KFC with Tim and Josh.  We passed two men who immediately started calling out at me.  Uh, very crudely.  Tim and Josh were talking to each other and did not hear them.  We got our food and as we walked home, we had to pass the two men again.

Stupid Man: [to Josh] “Hey man, got any change?”
Josh: “No, sorry.”
Stupid Man: “How ’bout sharing a piece of her then?”

Again, Tim and Josh did not hear them.  Half a block away I told them what had been said and they both apologized and offered to turn around and beat the crap out of the guy.  I appreciated the gesture.

Instances like that make me wish that I weren’t a woman.  Or at least that I was confrontational enough to have looked Mr. McSleeze up and down and laugh derisively.  First wish if I ever happen upon a magic genie lamp: a set of metaphoric balls.  Genies get metaphor, right?  Second wish: lots of money.  And, uh, third: World Peace.  ::does cheesy Miss America wave::