So, I'm in the bathroom at work and I'm thinking about the movie "Quick Change" with Bill Murray, Geena Davis, and Randy Quaid, and I'm thinking about the scene where they're holed up in an apartment trying to make a call or something. Anyway, they have their getaway car parked out front, and inadvertantly, next to a hydrant. It just so happens that there's a fire nearby and the fire department comes, busts out the driver's side window with an axe, puts the car in neutral and pushes it down the hill. This, kind of makes me grin and think about a guy who used to be a sort of regular at the hotel.

Rick Destephanie was, to put it bluntly, an asshole. He had money, lots of it, and he made sure you knew it. He expected nothing less than Royal treatment and let you know when things weren't up to his expectations. I never really knew his real age, but he appeared to be in his late 20's early 30's, and was in rather good shape. He had curly hair, reminded me of Kenny G, but it wasn't as long as G's and it was reddish brown. In the face he resembled Michael Bolton (hey, even the rich have problems). Anyway, his father or something owned a lot of nursing homes around the state and Rick had inherited them or something, but he used to travel around a lot inspecting them or whatever you want to call it.

He used to call us from his car phone and say he was on the way and wanted his usual room (317 or 320, one of those), which of course is a room with a King-size bed. Didn't matter how busy we were, he wanted that room and he was usually kind of curt when he came in and it was either taken or reserved or somehow not available. The thing that pissed me off the most was how he parked out in front of the building. The hotel that I worked at was an older building and had a circular drive up to the front door. Outside the front door was an 'awning', it was actually a small roof supported by 5 or 6 big pillars. Very Romanesque. Anyway, he used to always park his car right by the front doors, which is a fire lane. But he didn't care.

Most of the time, he'd come in, go take a shower in his room, get all gussied up and then leave in an expensive suit or outfit to find some slut, or bimbo or whatever that he could impress with his money (because he had no personality), and then bring back to the hotel and fuck. The prettier the bitch the better because then he would parade her in front of the rest of us as if to show her off. We just laughed at him because we knew why she was with him. Or, he used to sit at the piano in the lobby and play music. I can't remember what all he played, but I do remember thinking that he actually had one redeemable quality, he was a talented pianist. He would play for 20-30 minutes and if he hadn't attracted any dick-bait by then, he'd leave and hit the bars.

Well, one night, I had been having a rather rough day. We had been pretty full the night before and I had come in at 11 to do audit, and was then scheduled to come back at 3. I had just crashed at the hotel (as they let me do with an 8 hour turnaround) and I hadn't slept very well. Anyway, things just weren't going right, we didn't have a lot of guests, but the phone was ringing off the hook. I remember that I had just reserved the last king size bed when the phone rings and I answer, "Good After noon, Ramada Inn of Sedalia, this is Randy speaking, how may I help you?". The first thing I hear is "Hi, Christopher, it's Rick." Aren't you listening asshole? I say, "This is Randy, Christopher's not here." "Oh, well why'd you say Christopher?" I just stood and stared at the phone for a bit wondering what conversation this guy was listening to. It must have been the whole, 'I'm rich, I called you Christopher, I'm never wrong so therefore you must have said Christopher, because I'm rich and I'm never wrong'. Fucker.

After a few seconds, I get back on the phone and I say probably the worst thing I can say at this point, "Rick who?" "Rick Destephanie!" Oh, that Rick, ok, prick. He then proceeds to tell me that he's in his car, will be here in about 20 minutes and wants to have his usual room. See, that's another thing about him. He's been here long enough that he knows we have all of his information on file so he basically expects to come in, we hand him a key (for the correct room) and he just waltzes on in like he owns the place. Then he comes back later to give us a credit card imprint. We know he's good for it, right? Asshole. Well, I swallow, take a deep breath, and tell him that I can't give him his usual room because it's reserved. He then proceeds to call me whatever derogatory name he can think of and question my genetic make-up. Not fun. Before I can get another word in, he says, "We'll work this out when I get there." and hangs up.

As I fight down my anger, I stroll over to the computer to check the room layout and see if I can open something up by playing musical rooms. Let's see, all the kings are taken. He won't take one on the lower level or one on this floor, it has to be the one upstairs so, let's try this. Turns out that one of the king rooms that was reserved was not held with a credit card. Those we 'pull' at 4:00 if they're not checked in. So, I pull their reservation and check the other kings. Turns out the person in 'Rick's room' asked for a king room by the pool. Just so happens that Mr. 4:00 hold was down there so I move the other reservation to that room and it opens up the room I need. Something is going right.

Well, 15 minutes later, I see his Lexus or Infinity or whatever the fuck he drove pull up and he comes strolling in. Now, I need to take a pause here. See, at this time, I had really long hair and even though I'm heavy, I'm pretty solid, kind of intimidating (not really, but who cares). I could tell by the way he was talking on the phone that Rick didn't remember me, but I could tell he did when he came walking in. He had a bit of a smirk on his face like "I'm going to ream that desk jockey but good", and then he saw it was me and his smirk kind of faded. He just walked up to the counter and said, "I called a little bit ago about a room?" I looked up and said, "You did? Oh yes. Hold on." I had already gotten all the paperwork together so I hand it to him to sign, he makes an illegible scribble at the bottom and hands it back. I make him stand there for a second as I check over the paperwork, I know he's waiting for me to hand him a key. I set the paperwork down and then look him in the eye and say "I need to take an imprint of your credit card." This pisses him off, but he doesn't say anything, just digs out his wallet, grabs one of the many gold cards visible and throws it at me. I take it and imprint it and then run it through the machine.

Now, standard procedure was to put a 'hold' on the card. Basically, we weren't charging anything, but we were telling the credit card company to set aside a certain amount of available credit for 10 days so that we were sure to get paid. Basically, the card holder couldn't use that amount of credit for 10 days. We usually took the cost for the room for however many nights the person was staying plus applicable taxes and then added a bit to it in case they charged food, drinks, phone calls or whatever to their room. Then, when they checked out, we ran the sale through for the exact amount and whatever was left over was made available again to the cardholder. Rick was only staying for one night, I had them hold enough for a week, just to be sure.

He stomps off to his room, pissed, but not saying anything and I kind of smirk. Fucker. Later that night, Christopher comes in for the audit shift. Christopher (or 'Topher) is my bestest best bud and on nights when he was coming in to relieve me, he would come a bit early so we could hang out and talk. I would also stay a little later after clocking out to just hang with him. If it was slow, hell, he'd have the audit work done in about 30 minutes so he'd have plenty of time to kill. I tell him that Rick the Prick is in the hotel, but don't really go into the details of the check-in and shit. Anyway, he sees Rick's car out parked where it's not supposed to be so he calls him and asks him to come down and move it. He explains that it's in a fire lane and that it can't be parked there. After a few minutes of him listening, he starts explaining that the reason he can't park there is because if there was a fire, when the fire trucks came, they wouldn't be able to get the trucks in up close to the building because his car was in the way. I heard an audible "So?" 'Topher then proceeded to tell him that they would take an axe, bust out the driver's side window, put it in gear and push it out of the way with either the truck or a bunch of guys. The fuckin' guy still wouldn't come move his damn car! I was half tempted to go pull a fire alarm just to bring the fire department out and have them tear the shit out of his car, but I didn't. Luckily I didn't have to.

About 25 minutes after 'Topher's call, Rick comes storming down the hallway, almost leaps all the stairs and runs out to his car, starts it and pulls into a regular parking spot. I haven't a clue as to why, and then I hear it. Sirens. He gets out of his car, looks up the highway and a fire truck and a buttload of State Troopers go flying by headed out of town. The idiot thought they were coming to the hotel and ran out and finally moved his car. That made my night. Especially when I saw the look on his face as he walked back in and headed up stairs. Joy joy joy, fuck you rich boy.

Thinking back, I realize now that, even though it was tedious, annoying, and sometimes boring work, I have a lot of good memories from working at the hotel. I'll have to tell you all some more of them later on. Well, that's enough for now, I'll catch you all next entry. Oh, and yes mangoes, I love you now that you've signed my analyzer. I'm so easy. Thank you. 'Bear loves ya'll, ya hear?

"Where are we going and why am I in this handbasket?"

Icebear

previous - next