The party never stops when you're open all night, part 2

Previously on my grocery store escapades, I was witness to a gentleman devouring saltine crackers. And he wasn't beating around the bush, either. He was crushing a whole box of them. We pick up our story as I continue my journey for lunch.

I cautiously made my way past the couple; first around the nondescript woman, then around the ravenous man and his box of saltines. I nearly started laughing as I rounded the corner and headed toward the sandwich case. After waving to the passing forklift operator, I started to think about what kind of sandwich I wanted. I mentally settled on an italian sub, as usual.

I was somewhat startled when I got to the area where the deli sandwiches because there was someone else there. I rarely run into anyone on that side of the store because of its location. It's toward the back corner, by the bulk foods and the deli. Every now and then, there will be someone bagging up some bulk candy, but I can count on one hand the number of times that I've actually had to wait before grabbing my food at the deli cold case.

I casually make my way to the other end of the cold case so I don't crowd the gentleman that was there ahead of me. It's one of those unwritten guy rules - don't crowd another man while in a public restroom or at the sandwich counter. Common courtesy, really. As I'm biding my time looking at the pizza and chicken, I've got the corner of my eye on the dude. I was pretty hungry and I just wanted to get my food and go.

I was surprised and disgusted when I saw the guy putting his hands on nearly all of the sandwiches in the case! Yes, they're all wrapped in plastic. I still found it pretty gross to watch this guy grab and lightly squeeze all of my potential lunch choices, however. Remember common courtesy? This guy was copping a courtesy feel on a bunch of deli sandwiches.

As I watched in the corner of my eye, I tried to make a mental note of what racks and/or sandwiches he tainted. By the time he left, I couldn't bring myself to purchase any of the sandwiches at all. My first rationalization was that I couldn't find an italian sandwich any way, so why bother. My second rationalization was that some of the pizza I was looking at earlier was just as viable an option. I really wanted a sandwich though!

Rather than get one of the cellophane-wrapped sandwiches that the guy molested, I went with one of the box lunches instead. Genious! I got a ham and cheese sandwich, chips, and cookies. Truly a bountiful feast fit for any king. But it wasn't just the quantity of food that drew my attention. It was also the bulletproof plastic clamshell that was safeguarding the food.

There's no way I was going to eat a pre-smushed sandwich wrapped in dinky plastic wrap. The plastic clamshell, however, looked safe. It's like the food was wearing a kevlar vest. I triumphantly picked out a box lunch, left the scene of the crime and quickly made my way to the cashier. Having had two phenomenal instances already happen, I didn't want to stick around and wait for the third. Only time will tell what great adventures await me next time.

The party never stops when you're open all night, part 1

At least once a week, I try to make a trip out to the local grocery store for lunch. Not so much for the fine cuisine they serve up at obscene hours of the night/morning, but more for the sheer entertainment/weirdness factor. It reminds me of the fast food place near campus - I would go there and stomach the horrible food just to watch the festivities. Shit was better than TV.

We get our share of strangeness at the hotel, but we're fortunate to have locking doors and therefore are able to at least screen for potentially hazardous people. The grocery store, on the other hand, has its doors wide open all the time except for major holidays. This open invitation is taken all too willingly by some choice clientele.

After last night's excursion, I could no longer deny the need for bloggeration on the subject. When I get lunch from the grocery store, I try not to go too late. I'm all for having a fun time, but sometimes things just get too strange even for my tastes. I went out just before 2 am and that's a pretty decent time to go - it's too late for people to be getting beer but it's not too late for a horde of drunk people to be causing mischief within the store.

As soon as I walked in, I was reminded of why I make the weekly trip. I make my way down the first aisle that leads from the front of the store toward the vegetables and fruits, and there's a couple perusing a cold case. The woman was insignificant. The man on the other hand, was awesome. He wasn't physically deformed; sporting an extra appendage, missing an eye, wheelchair-bound, etc. Quite simply, he was chowing down on the snack of the moment - a box of saltine crackers. For serious.

When I go grocery shopping with the family, I usually end up snacking on something with my son. We've been known to crack open a bag of chips or get something from the hot case. I've never snacked on a box of saltines, though. And let me emphasize that he was holding the box. It's not like he brought in just a single sleeve of crackers because he was nursing a sour stomach. Dude was crushing an entire box like it was the most delicious meal on the face of the earth.




To be continued!

The Front Desk Christmas List

Dear Santa,

Christmas is here along with all the holiday travelers and I've been working sooo hard lately (sort of) that I think I deserve some new office goodies. And thus I present my

Front Desk Christmas List.

1. A new fax machine.

I know what you're thinking and yes, people still send and receive faxes. Dont ask me why. But I dont know if you've noticed but the one we have in the back is a little worse for wear. Its literally being held together with scotch tape. And it jams very easily. Its old and slow and pretty much a pain in the ass. We need a new one. Maybe it could be one of those "new fangled scanner/ fax/ copy machine all in one thingamajigs". Also, we could use some more scotch tape.

2. A new countertop

The countertop we have is exactly 12 years old. Its a P.O.S. The laminate has detached from the wood and there is currently a bow in the middle causing office supplies to slide slowly away from one's reach. This is unacceptable. I'm not asking for marble, just something that lays flat? Maybe?







3. Scissors

We have an office scissors bandit. I'm sure he or she is right there on your naughty list but nonetheless they are relentless in their klepto tendencies. Scissors are very useful for all sorts of things. Like making snowflakes to hang in one's window or cutting up plastic six pack rings to help save the dolphins and sea turtles. Dont you care about the sea turtles Santa? Of course you do.






4. New computers

For the love of God, writing this blog is a hefty task for this dinosaur. Or all three of these dinosaurs. I have a better computer at home and you dont even want to know my hourly wage. It would make you cry. Our computers cant handle most of everything and every day more and more websites have the ability to freeze them. IBM doesnt make pcs anymore just so you know. The money I would pay to take a crowbar to these things. I'm oh so tempted to go "fishing" for viruses but karma is a bitch so yeah.





KTHXBAI - Madame Midnight

(oh and merry christmas santa)

the weather outside is frightful....

So, all I have to say is that it is very cold and no sir, I don't like it. More posts on the way to "all our readers". Lulz - Madame Midnight
P.S. if you're really itching for bloggy yummies check out our fav places on the internet, right hand side. <3

This one time, a guy fell from a balcony

Several years ago I was wrapping up a rather momentous night. It was a changing of the guards, as it was my former supervisor's final night on the job and I was the incoming supervisor. It was a smooth night as I recall, with the only problem being a rowdy group of guests on the 4th floor of our hotel. They were celebrating a bachelor party, if my memory serves me right.

Around 6:30 in the morning, my former supervisor and I are having the obligatory talk - wishing each other good luck in our future endeavors, passing on advice, etc. Actually, I was just nodding my head without really paying attention to what he was saying. Around 6:45 I got a call from a frantic guest. Someone had fallen from their balcony and was needing some serious medical attention. That's right - someone fell from their balcony. I immediately called 911 and my supervisor started the rigorous process of documenting the incident. Here's what I remember.

It turns out that one of the folks partying on the 4th floor was the one that fell. That's approximately a 30 foot plummet onto a not-so-soft concrete pavement. You can see the point of impact from the back office, so naturally I had to take a peek. I didn't see much of anything, other than some EMS guys helping someone into the back of an ambulance.

The first thing I thought was - hot damn! This guy just fell 30 feet and he, for the most part, was able to walk to the ambulance. There was a very distinct limp going on; one that you would expect from such an accident. I was amazed that the person didn't wreck their body any worse because I was expecting to see someone getting strapped onto a gurney.

The next thing I thought was - how in the hell does one manage to fall like that? It's not like our balconies don't have guard rails on them. You have to try in order to fall from them. When the police came by, I overheard them talking about how the person that fell had dropped their cell phone and went after it. Right off the balcony. 30 feet. Onto the pavement below.

Look, I've bobbled my cell phone while taking it out of my pocket before and dropped it. It seems like no matter how hard I try to catch it, I'm never fast enough when I lunge for my falling cell phone. You know what I've never done before, though? I've never dropped my cell phone from the balcony of my 4th floor hotel room and jumped after it.

Word is, there was a significant amount of alcohol involved in the incident. That goes a long way toward explaining the extreme stupidity of the event. I could only imagine the amount of pain that person felt as the alcohol wore off later that morning.

--------

Fast forward about 3 years later...

I was having a meeting with an acquaintance one afternoon. He and I drove down to a local bar where we were going to meet up with another person to talk about marketing a line of clothing. As we're waiting for the person in charge of the clothing to show up, I get introduced to one of the friends of the acquaintance.

As we're exchanging pleasantries, it comes to light that the friend of the acquaintance was in fact the person that jumped off the balcony. I was completely dumbfounded as this person recounted the entire situation. I thought he was full of shit until he started giving verifying details. Turns out that alcohol wasn't the only thing involved, either. Yayo was involved (allegedly) as well, which helps explain the whole "jumping for the cell phone" routine. I felt like I was in the presence of a celebrity. Scratch that - more like a complete idiot.

-Captain Stamina

Please dont molest our Santa

So yeah, we have a statue of Santa Claus in our lobby. He's fun to pose with. Especially when you're here for dinner with your family. He stands between two beautifully decorated trees making the whole display a perfect backdrop for seasonal photos. All throughout the month of December guests love to take photos to memorialize their trip to our beautiful hotel.

But please dont molest Santa. So you've had a few drinks at the bar. You're cracking a few dirty jokes with the girlfriends. But tomorrow you might not want to wake up with a photo of you blowing Santa all over your facebook. You know that teacher that got fired for taking a picture while holding a glass of wine in one of her vacation photos? This is a tad worse than that.

Yes, we here standing guard at the front desk saw the whole thing, had to stop ourselves from gagging, and were relieved when you and your posse of giggly thirty somethings left the premises.

I should have taken a picture with my cell phone camera so I could make sure you were humilitaed but I have a little more class and instead drew up a little something.




Merry Christmas (and have fun scrapbooking?) - Madame Midnight

A toast to a toasted bride

Every summer our hotel ushers in the wedding season. For many, weddings mean fancy parties, beautiful flowers, long white gowns, and vows of matrimony.

For a Night Auditor weddings mean lots of drunk people. Lots of drunk people staying up until the wee hours of the morning refusing to end the "celebration".

One such wedding party last summer took the cake when it came to the overall alcohol intake. The catering staff blamed the excessive drinking on the late arriving live band that left the guests and wedding party with nothing to do for a good portion of the reception except to "take shots". That may well have been the case but the aftermath was pretty unexcusable.

At 1 am in the morning I wander into the lobby ladies restroom after noticing 2 or 3 girls in matching dresses going in but not coming out after almost an hour. First thing I notice is the smell. Vomit has a certain "special" aroma. Then I notice 2 of the 3 handwashing sinks clogged with vomit. One of them was almost half full. Last of all I notice bare knees connected to matching fancy footwear on the floors of 2 stalls. Then the sound of retching.

At this point I promptly vacated the restroom for more friendly territory.

Around 2 am I notice the bride stumble in this same restroom. Fifteen or twenty minutes later a brideless groom is asking around about his missing mate. I kindly motion him over to the desk and inform him that his lovely bride is currently in the ladies room and might not be in the best of shape.

Unfortunately, he asks me to go in and check up on her.

I begrudgingly pull myself away from my safe zone at the front desk and brace myself for the adventure. I find the bride in the last stall with the door closed, her beautiful lace embroidered gown draping over the bathroom floor tiles.

I knock on the stall door.

No answer.

I knock again, this time with a "Ma'am, are you okay?"

No answer.

Then the sound of vomit splashing into a toilet bowl catches me off guard and I scamper out.

I kindly inform the gentleman that since there were no other gals in the restroom besides his beloved that it might be best for him to go to her aid rather than myself. He follows my instructions and about ten minutes later he walks out supporting his stumbling, vomit smelling, glassy-eyed bride as she makes her way to the elevator.

What a way to start a marriage...