Ten bucks.
For an hour upstairs separating sticks from orchids when I could have been down front pulling cars for the departing wedding party at 5 bucks per car.
Now it's not her fault. How could she know that I was expecting at least six times that amount. No, I blame Peanuthead.
Peanuthead is not his real name, of course. It's just that his head is shaped like a peanut. Seriously. The guy should be wearing a monocle and a top hat with his grey valet uniform.
Actually, the real problem is that I'm too acquiescent (everybody sing: ♫ I'm just a guy that caint say no. I'm in a turible fix...♫), which doesn't go unappreciated by my indoor co-workers. I can sometimes wind up with a lot of overtime because someone says "Oh, Ron, before you go..." Somehow, though, it doesn't have the same effect when my fellow valets ask me to do something. Instead, I wind up stressed and broke.
There's a transition period between 2nd and 3rd shift. Most nights it lasts for a minute or two while the afternoon guys tell me about the day and what work is left over. Then they leave, and the night is all mine.
But on those nights that we have events that last into the night, they stick around to help out until such a time that it is determined that I can handle it all by myself without getting totally swamped. Even on the nights when I need them, I still think they are just in the way, and I want them gone. I also feel a bit out of control when they are there, which I resent because this is MY shift, and, unless someone is there who can trump my authority, I should be in charge.
On those busy nights when they are sticking around, somehow I get stuck with all the LAs (Luggage Assistance), which I actually enjoy doing, but often I know it's going cost me more money than I am going to make off of it because lately people are just not tipping well. I wind up with a fiver, which is what I can make pulling around one car, which takes less time, less effort, and a lot less personal interaction. The afternoon guys have already made twice or more what I can hope to make on the night shift, so why don't they do the LAs during the busy times, and let me have a chance at a good night?
It was just getting busy last night when the front desk called the bellstand requesting a bellman and bellcart to the 2nd floor. Peanuthead answered the phone, but he didn't go do it. I had gone to get a car for a couple who just need something out of the trunk, and Peanuthead offered to take the car back to the garage so that I could go up to 2 with a cart. I told him I would take the car back, thinking that that might force him to actually do something about the call that he got. But no, when I got back, he was still at the bellstand. Well, the job needed to be done, so...
When I got upstairs, the wedding planner directed me into the ballroom where there were three tables with about 40 or 50 flower arrangements that she said needed to be taken down to her car. One of the banquets guys and I loaded them all up on two carts and took them out to the foyer, where she told us that the actual flowers were to be trashed. We knew the banquet ladies would want to take the flowers home, so we separated the flowers from the filler and foliage. I got interrupted to help the mother of the bride take some wedding gifts up to the sixth floor, where we discovered that the food that was supposed to be delivered to the new couple had been delivered to the room the bride had been in the night before instead of the suite she was in now, and her sister was eating it.
After getting that all straightened out, I went back down to 2, where the sorting was almost done, and started loading the now empty vases back on the carts. The banquets head and I wheeled the carts to the elevator and out into the lobby, with the wedding planner right behind us. As we got out of the elevator, we passed by Peanuthead, who asked, "Where've you been?" I wanted to slap him, especially since he and the other guy were ready to go, which meant that all the business out front was done. Shit.
The BH and I loaded up her Jeep, then he went inside while I visited with her a bit more. She got out her wallet and pulled out a 20, about a third or less of what I felt I deserved. "Do you have change?"
My job is basically an acting job, so I acted like she hadn't just punched me in the stomach, and resisted the urge to say "Twenty IS change." Instead I said, "I believe so," and pulled out my meager take for the evening, and asked, "How much do you want back?" I gave her the ten dollar bill she asked for, but I had to turn away when she said she hoped that that was enough.
I told the morning guys about what had happened, and they understood exactly why my anger and disgust was centered on Peanuthead. One of them reminded me of Peanuthead's habit of standing with his hips pressed against the bellcart door like he's trying to prevent anyone else from getting to the keys. He pointed to the the hole in the door where the lock used to be before the new one was installed. "That hole is for [Peanuthead]'s penis." The one thing we couldn't decide on, though, was whether he was oblivious or sneaky.
Later, when I complained to someone else, I was told that I just needed to learn to stand up for myself. I know that's true. But I'm not confrontational. I can use my blog for some passive aggression and venting, but I need to take some more positive steps.
I've got the weekend to think about it.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
So Apparently I've Stolen a Car
About 4:45am, Ms 804 called the bellstand and asked for her car. Now it only takes two minutes for me to pull around a car, so if she had called and left her room immediately, I would still have it out front before she was out of the elevator. But no, I had to wait in the lobby for her when I had other things to do (deliver newspapers).
Finally the elevator door opens, and asked the woman who stepped out, "Are you Ms 804?" She said yes, so I asked, "May I put your luggage in the car?" She said yes, so I took the suitcase out to the vehicle and put it in the trunk. She had some business with the front desk about her charges, and while that was being handled, she handed me her valet ticket, which I didn't look at, since the car was already outside. When she was done, I escorted her outside, gave her the keys and directions to the airport. She sat down in the Smoking Oasis to have a cigarette before she left. After a few minutes she was gone.
A couple of minutes later, Ms 804 came out of the elevator wanting the car I had pulled around. (Panic!)
Now we've got to figure out who that other woman was, and Vizzini is not panicking fast enough for me, until I remember that I have her valet ticket. Turns out, she was Ms 805, and I still have her car.
(I should mention at this point that I am using their room numbers as euphemisms for their last names, and their names sound nothing alike. The fact that their rooms were across the hall from each other was just an amazing coincidence.)
Since Ms 804 was also headed tot he airport, I asked if she'd be interested in taking Ms 805's car. She said she would rather not take on that responsibility, but she still needed a ride to the airport. I decided to take her myself in our van.
Our chef does a cooking show early in the morning on one of the local TV stations, and uses our van to transport all his supplies. He never cleans the van when he returns it, nor does he fill the gas tank. The van smells like old cooking oil, and it's an embarrassment to have to drive our guests anywhere in it. On this morning, I was spared that embarrassment because there were no seats in the van. I wound up taking Ms 804 and her companion in my car (I was so glad it was relatively clean), which is actually against the rules, but what choice did I have?
In spite of the tension being felt by all, conversation in the van was light. We talked about other snafus we'd been privy to in our lives, and they talked about their dealings with car rental companies. At the airport, there were apologies, thank yous and goodbyes. Then I headed back.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...I mean, hotel, Ms 805 has called to tell us she got the wrong car. When she arrived at Thrifty, they informed her that the car belonged to Hertz. She told Vizzini that she hadn't even noticed that it was a different car. She thought that I had just adjusted the seat. Looking into it later, I found that she had driven in to the hotel three days before, parked the car in valet, and hadn't used it again till it was time to go home. So at $50 a day for rental, plus tax, and $20 per night for valet parking, she spent at least $240 on a car when she could have spent $55 plus tip on two taxis. And since she hadn't seen the car in three days, she didn't notice that I had pulled around a light gray Corolla instead of her blue Optima.
Our Loss Prevention Officer called over to Hertz to make sure that the car had been returned, and the clerk he talked to went to check. While he was gone, LPO could hear Ms 804 in the background getting very upset with the other clerk who was telling her that since I had given the car to someone else, that I had essentially STOLEN the car and the police needed to be called, and that since her name was the one on the contract, that she was responsible for paying for it. Then the first clerk came back and told LPO that the car had indeed been returned.
LPO and Vizzini started making plans about how to return the Thrifty car. They decided that what should be done was to call Dane, the 6:00 bellman, to come in early (which they did), then the overnight houseman and I would drive the car and the van out to he airport. LPO decided he'd better call Thrifty to make sure that that was okay. I had arrived at the hotel by this time, so I got to witness the conversation.
The Thrifty clerk told LPO that since the contracted driver was no longer available, that they would have to send a tow truck out to the hotel to pick up the car, which would be charged to Ms 805. LPO said that couldn't happen, because we, the hotel, were ultimately responsible for what had happened. Can they charge it directly to the hotel? The Thrifty Manager would be in at 8:00; we would have to ask him.
Up to this time, I had thought that fixing the problem would just be a matter of getting the people and the cars where they belonged. I had no idea it would be made more complicated by contracts and liabilities and tow trucks.
Dane arrived "early" at about 5:59, so I went up to deliver the papers. The whole time I had a sick feeling in my gut because I didn't know if my job was in jeopardy-- or if I was going to be arrested. I decided the best course of action was to let HR know what had happened before anyone else. When I finished the papers, I went directly to the HR office, and told the head of HR the whole story. She asked if I had talked to the Director of Loss Prevention. I hadn't (he came in while I was delivering papers), but I was sure that LPO had. She called DoLP and found out that LPO had told him very little, and he suggested I come up and talk to him.
On the way, I ran into AFOM, who said he had talked to our General Manager, who had asked, "Were they similar cars at least?" "I think so, yes." "Well, don't worry about it. I've done that before. Well, not me personally; people who worked for me." That was a relief. At least I knew I could keep my job.
DoLP and I went into the office to talk. Halfway through the story, AFOM came in, so I had to tell the story again. While telling the story to him in his office, FOM came in, and I had to tell the story a fourth time. I was getting pretty good at it.
FOM suggested we call the call the rental agencies and find out where we stood. AFOM called Hertz, who said they had the car in their possession, and everything was taken care of. He called Thrifty, and the manager told him that it was perfectly okay for us to just bring the car out and drop it off. All that worrying for nothing.
By the time AFOM and I got back from the airport, it was almost 10:00. This problem had consumed five hours of my morning, and kept me at work 2½ hours late.
Of course, I've heard of this kind of thing happening. But this is the first time it's happened at our hotel, and it would have been nice if it had happened to someone else. But at least I have a story to tell.
Finally the elevator door opens, and asked the woman who stepped out, "Are you Ms 804?" She said yes, so I asked, "May I put your luggage in the car?" She said yes, so I took the suitcase out to the vehicle and put it in the trunk. She had some business with the front desk about her charges, and while that was being handled, she handed me her valet ticket, which I didn't look at, since the car was already outside. When she was done, I escorted her outside, gave her the keys and directions to the airport. She sat down in the Smoking Oasis to have a cigarette before she left. After a few minutes she was gone.
A couple of minutes later, Ms 804 came out of the elevator wanting the car I had pulled around. (Panic!)
Now we've got to figure out who that other woman was, and Vizzini is not panicking fast enough for me, until I remember that I have her valet ticket. Turns out, she was Ms 805, and I still have her car.
(I should mention at this point that I am using their room numbers as euphemisms for their last names, and their names sound nothing alike. The fact that their rooms were across the hall from each other was just an amazing coincidence.)
Since Ms 804 was also headed tot he airport, I asked if she'd be interested in taking Ms 805's car. She said she would rather not take on that responsibility, but she still needed a ride to the airport. I decided to take her myself in our van.
Our chef does a cooking show early in the morning on one of the local TV stations, and uses our van to transport all his supplies. He never cleans the van when he returns it, nor does he fill the gas tank. The van smells like old cooking oil, and it's an embarrassment to have to drive our guests anywhere in it. On this morning, I was spared that embarrassment because there were no seats in the van. I wound up taking Ms 804 and her companion in my car (I was so glad it was relatively clean), which is actually against the rules, but what choice did I have?
In spite of the tension being felt by all, conversation in the van was light. We talked about other snafus we'd been privy to in our lives, and they talked about their dealings with car rental companies. At the airport, there were apologies, thank yous and goodbyes. Then I headed back.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...I mean, hotel, Ms 805 has called to tell us she got the wrong car. When she arrived at Thrifty, they informed her that the car belonged to Hertz. She told Vizzini that she hadn't even noticed that it was a different car. She thought that I had just adjusted the seat. Looking into it later, I found that she had driven in to the hotel three days before, parked the car in valet, and hadn't used it again till it was time to go home. So at $50 a day for rental, plus tax, and $20 per night for valet parking, she spent at least $240 on a car when she could have spent $55 plus tip on two taxis. And since she hadn't seen the car in three days, she didn't notice that I had pulled around a light gray Corolla instead of her blue Optima.
Our Loss Prevention Officer called over to Hertz to make sure that the car had been returned, and the clerk he talked to went to check. While he was gone, LPO could hear Ms 804 in the background getting very upset with the other clerk who was telling her that since I had given the car to someone else, that I had essentially STOLEN the car and the police needed to be called, and that since her name was the one on the contract, that she was responsible for paying for it. Then the first clerk came back and told LPO that the car had indeed been returned.
LPO and Vizzini started making plans about how to return the Thrifty car. They decided that what should be done was to call Dane, the 6:00 bellman, to come in early (which they did), then the overnight houseman and I would drive the car and the van out to he airport. LPO decided he'd better call Thrifty to make sure that that was okay. I had arrived at the hotel by this time, so I got to witness the conversation.
The Thrifty clerk told LPO that since the contracted driver was no longer available, that they would have to send a tow truck out to the hotel to pick up the car, which would be charged to Ms 805. LPO said that couldn't happen, because we, the hotel, were ultimately responsible for what had happened. Can they charge it directly to the hotel? The Thrifty Manager would be in at 8:00; we would have to ask him.
Up to this time, I had thought that fixing the problem would just be a matter of getting the people and the cars where they belonged. I had no idea it would be made more complicated by contracts and liabilities and tow trucks.
Dane arrived "early" at about 5:59, so I went up to deliver the papers. The whole time I had a sick feeling in my gut because I didn't know if my job was in jeopardy-- or if I was going to be arrested. I decided the best course of action was to let HR know what had happened before anyone else. When I finished the papers, I went directly to the HR office, and told the head of HR the whole story. She asked if I had talked to the Director of Loss Prevention. I hadn't (he came in while I was delivering papers), but I was sure that LPO had. She called DoLP and found out that LPO had told him very little, and he suggested I come up and talk to him.
On the way, I ran into AFOM, who said he had talked to our General Manager, who had asked, "Were they similar cars at least?" "I think so, yes." "Well, don't worry about it. I've done that before. Well, not me personally; people who worked for me." That was a relief. At least I knew I could keep my job.
DoLP and I went into the office to talk. Halfway through the story, AFOM came in, so I had to tell the story again. While telling the story to him in his office, FOM came in, and I had to tell the story a fourth time. I was getting pretty good at it.
FOM suggested we call the call the rental agencies and find out where we stood. AFOM called Hertz, who said they had the car in their possession, and everything was taken care of. He called Thrifty, and the manager told him that it was perfectly okay for us to just bring the car out and drop it off. All that worrying for nothing.
By the time AFOM and I got back from the airport, it was almost 10:00. This problem had consumed five hours of my morning, and kept me at work 2½ hours late.
Of course, I've heard of this kind of thing happening. But this is the first time it's happened at our hotel, and it would have been nice if it had happened to someone else. But at least I have a story to tell.
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