Phone Call from the Census

The US Census office in New York has had to fire workers due to fraud. The new folks there must still be learning the ropes. This actual telephone call to Erik Gordon was transcribed immediately upon hanging up, so it's practically verbatim.
Ring. Ring.
ERIK: "Hello?"
CHARLOTTE: "Hello. This is Charlotte calling from the 2010 United States Census. We've left you a couple of messages over the past few weeks but you haven't returned our calls. I'm calling to ask you some additional questions about the census form that you recently completed. This should take only a few minutes."
ERIK: "Okay."
CHARLOTTE: "Can I start by verifying your address?"
ERIK: "Yes, it's the one you have on the form -- 68 East 78th Street in New York."
CHARLOTTE: "And is this the Gordon household?"
ERIK: "Yes."
CHARLOTTE: "And who completed the census form on behalf of the household?"
ERIK: "I did. I'm the only one who lives here."
CHARLOTTE: "And what is your name?"
ERIK: "Erik Gordon. Don't you have that on the form I filled out?"
CHARLOTTE: "Yes."
ERIK: "So why are you asking me again?"
CHARLOTTE (reading): "We need to make sure that the 2010 US Census is an accurate count of every person in the United States and that no person is double counted. This should take only a few minutes."
ERIK: "Okay."
CHARLOTTE: "So Erik Gordon filled out the census form on behalf of your household?"
ERIK: "Yes, I did."
CHARLOTTE: "And am I speaking to Erik Gordon?"
ERIK: "Um, yes. But I think we've covered this, no?"
CHARLOTTE: "Yes, but I need to ask the questions in the order they appear on my screen."
ERIK: "Okay."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, how many people were living at your address on April 1, 2010?"
ERIK: "Just me. I'm the only one who lives here."
CHARLOTTE: "So should I put 'One?'"
ERIK: "Probably."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, do you have children, babies or foster children living with you?"
ERIK (louder): "I'm the only one here."
CHARLOTTE: "It's a yes or no question, Mr. Gordon."
ERIK: "If I'm the only one here, then the answer is 'No,' right?"
CHARLOTTE: "Okay, I'm going to put 'No.'"
ERIK: "Good idea."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, do you have any other relatives living with you?"
ERIK: "I'm the only one here."
CHARLOTTE: "I can't put that."
ERIK: "I don't care."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, we need to make sure that the 2010 US Census is an accurate count of every person in the United States and that no person is double counted. This should take only a few minutes."
ERIK: "But all of this is on the form I filled out."
CHARLOTTE: "I know. I have it here."
ERIK: "So why are you asking me the same questions?"
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, this should take only a few minutes."
ERIK: "This should take no minutes."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, are you refusing to answer the questions? Because if you're refusing to answer the questions, I'm going to have to call you back."
ERIK: "I'm not refusing to answer the questions, Charlotte. I already answered them."
CHARLOTTE: "When?"
ERIK: "On the form you have in front of you."
CHARLOTTE: "Oh."
ERIK: "Yes."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, this should only take a few minutes. Can I ask if you have any nonrelatives, such as roommates or babysitters living with you?"
ERIK: "I'm the only one here."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, you know I can't put that."
ERIK: "No, Charlotte, no. I don't have anyone else living here!"
CHARLOTTE: "No roomates or babysitters?"
ERIK: "No!"
CHARLOTTE: "I'm going to put 'No.' Mr. Gordon, do you have anyone living with you temporarily?"
ERIK: "Charlotte, you know what I'm going to say, right?"
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, it's a yes or no question."
ERIK: "Charlotte, you've already asked me about relatives and nonrelatives. Who else could be living with me?"
CHARLOTTE: "Anyone living with you temporarily, such as any illegal aliens."
ERIK: "Yes, Charlotte. I forgot. I do have illegal aliens living with me."
CHARLOTTE: "How many?"
ERIK: "I live with approximately twelve thousand illegal Mexican immigrants. But please don't put that down, I don't want to get in trouble."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, I have to put it down."
ERIK: "Please don't put it down. They're nice people. They’ve traveled far."
CHARLOTTE: "I'm sorry, Mr. Gordon. I have to put it down."
ERIK: "Okay, put it down."
CHARLOTTE: "Okay."
ERIK: "Charlotte, did you really just put down that I live with 12,000 illegal Mexican immigrants?"
CHARLOTTE: "No. I just put twelve."
ERIK: "Why?"
CHARLOTTE: "I don't have enough room."
ERIK: "Okay."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, were you away from this address anytime in March or April of 2010?"
ERIK: "What do you mean?"
CHARLOTTE: "What do *you* mean?"
ERIK: "Are you asking me if I left my apartment anytime in March or April?"
CHARLOTTE: "Yes."
ERIK: "Then 'Yes.'"
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, where did you go?"
ERIK: "Charlotte, I went a lot of places."
CHARLOTTE: "I only have one line."
ERIK: "That's too bad, Charlotte, because I went *a lot* of places."
CHARLOTTE: "But I only have one line."
ERIK: "So what do you want me to tell you?"
CHARLOTTE: "I don't know. Do you want me to ask my supervisor?"
ERIK: "Actually, I think you should ask your supervisor."
CHARLOTTE (returning to the phone after putting me on hold for two or three minutes): "I think we should just put 'Don't Know.'"
ERIK: "Fine."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, in March and April of 2010 where did you spend most of your time: at your address in New York or in Don't Know?"
ERIK: "New York. Don't Know isn't a real place."
CHARLOTTE: "Okay. New York. Is there any other place you spent most of your time?"
ERIK: "Charlotte, what does that mean?"
CHARLOTTE: "You said you spent most of your time in New York. Is there any other place where you spent most of your time?"
ERIK: "Charlotte, how can I spend most of my time in more than one place?"
CHARLOTTE (after thinking it over): "I think we should put 'Don't Know.'"
ERIK: "Okay. Let's put that."
CHARLOTTE: "Okay."
ERIK: "Okay."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, other than New York and Don't Know, did you spend any time anywhere else?"
ERIK: "Pardon?"
CHARLOTTE: "Other than New York and Don't Know, did you spend any time anywhere else?"
ERIK: "Other than New York and Don't Know?"
CHARLOTTE: "Yes."
ERIK: "No. I spent all of my time in New York and Don't Know."
CHARLOTTE: "How about prison?"
ERIK: "How about prison?"
CHARLOTTE: "Did you spend any time in prison in March or April of 2010?"
ERIK: "No, I was only in New York and Don't Know."
CHARLOTTE: "Okay."
ERIK: "Okay."
CHARLOTTE: "Okay. Mr. Gordon, did you spend any time in the military?"
ERIK: "No."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, did you spend any time in a nursing home?"
ERIK: "Charlotte, can we just put 'Don't Know' for the rest of the questions so we can both get on with our lives?"
CHARLOTTE: "No, I can't do that. You need to answer every question. This should take only a few minutes."
ERIK: "It’s already been more than a few minutes."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, are you refusing to answer the questions? Because if you're refusing to answer the questions--"
ERIK: "I don't want you to call me back Charlotte. I did not spend any time in a nursing home in March or April of 2010. I was too busy in Don't Know."
CHARLOTTE: "What?"
ERIK: "No. No time in a nursing home."
CHARLOTTE: "Mr. Gordon, that was the last question. On behalf of the 2010 United States Census, thank you and have a good evening."

Chain Email -- The Good Kind

Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather. Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.

If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.

We never really grow up; we only learn how to act in public.

War does not determine who is right -- only who is left.

Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Evening news is where they begin with 'Good evening,' and then proceed to tell you why it isn't.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.

A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops. My desk is a work station.

How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Dolphins are so smart that within a few weeks of captivity, they can train people to stand on the very edge of the pool and throw them fish.

I thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted paychecks.

A bank is a place that will lend you money if you can prove that you don't need it.

Whenever I fill out an application, in the part that says "In an emergency, notify:" I put " A DOCTOR."

I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

Behind every successful man is his woman. Behind the fall of a successful man is usually another woman.

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

The voices in my head may not be real, but they have some good ideas!

I discovered I scream the same way whether I'm about to be devoured by a great white shark or if a piece of seaweed touches my foot.

Some cause happiness wherever they go. Others, whenever they go.

There's a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can't get away.

I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not sure.

You're never too old to learn something stupid.

To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

A bus is a vehicle that runs twice as fast when you are after it as when you are in it.

Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.

On Being Left Among the Right People

Years ago, when I was working at another hotel, I got into a conversation with a guest who had been with us for a few days. Previously I had mentioned in another conversation that I was gay, which seemed to bother him a bit. On this particular day, he decided to broach the subject again, and asked me, "So when did you convert to gayism?"

The question just struck me as funny, and I laughed and said, "I've never heard it put that way before." But I never gave him an actual answer.

Over the years, his question has stuck in my mind, and I've come up with several smart-ass answers:

"One day I woke up, looked in the mirror, and said to myself, 'I'm not wasting this on some chick!'"

"Convert to gayism? Why the hell would I want to do that?"

"Well let's see... I know it was before I converted to myopia-ism..."

"I'm not really sure. When did you convert to straightism?"

There were others, and all of them were meant to explain emphatically that I never converted to anything, while at the same time making fun of his question, but none of them conveyed the message as strongly as I would have liked. None of them adequately explained that I could no more convert to being gay or straight than I could convert to being right or left handed-- though one of the answers that I thought of was to hand him a pen and paper, notice which hand he took the pen in and ask, "When did you convert to right/left-handedness?"

The whole idea of comparing being gay to being left-handed intrigues me. After Sally Kern made some of her sillier statements to the press, I started noticing that one could substitute the word 'left-handed' for the word 'gay' into many of her statements just to see how silly they actually were, and the idea for this post started to grow in my brain. I've been thinking about it and discussing it with friends and co-workers (one of whom has started calling me "Lefty" even though I'm right handed.) And then a couple of days ago I found this paragraph in a New York Times article:

Compared with straight men, gay men appear to have a larger suprachiasmatic nucleus, a part of the brain that affects behavior, and some studies show most gay men have a larger isthmus of the corpus callosum -- which may also be true of left-handed people. And that's intriguing because gays are 39 percent more likely to be left-handed than straight people.

I liked reading that because it kind of underlined my idea. Here are some of my thoughts on the subject:

• One doesn't get to decide whether or not one is left-handed. As my co-worker Candy says, "You just have to play the hand you're dealt. (I'm not sure if she intended the pun.)
• Being left-handed is niether contagious nor a result of influence. You won't become left-handed by hanging around with left-handed people, nor will you become left-handed if your teacher is left-handed. If you are left-handed, it was decided long before you met any of these people.


• One starts using one's left hand predominantly long before one knows he is left handed. When I was in the first grade, Mrs Olbert explained how to properly hold a pencil when writing. She also explained that the left-handed students would be holding theirs a bit differently. Up to then I had no idea that there was such a thing as right or left handed, but I do know that I had always held my crayons in my right hand. I also knew nothing about same sex attraction until I was ten and one of the sixth graders said that I was a fag if I kissed my brother, but I had crushes on some of my male classmates, and was expressing curiosity about their bodies, from the age of six.
• Using the other hand doesn't change one's manual orientation. My best friend had a first grade teacher that believed that writing with the left hand was improper, and so he was taught to use his right hand. He still uses his right hand for writing out of habit, but he uses his left for everything else.
• The whole world is built for right handed people, and left-handers usually have to make some effort to adjust or find an item that fits their needs. The ignition switch in the car is on the right side of the steering wheel. The mouse on the computer is made to fit the right hand. The buttons on your digital camera are on the right side. Yes, one can buy left-handed scissors, and even Porsche and BMW are making cars with the ignition on the left side, but left-handed items are frequently hard to find, and usually more expensive. Straight people do not have to drive several states away just to find a valid marriage licence, just as right handers don't have to special order a can opener.

Now, of course there are a lot of differences, too.

• Nobody hates you for being left-handed. There's no one standing outside a military funeral with a sign saying that God hates left-handed people. Bullies at school don't taunt their victims by calling them "lefty."
• Similarly, there is no shame associated with being left-handed. Kids aren't killing themselves because they're afraid their parents might find out that they're left handed. They don't feel they need to hide their manual orientation from their peers.
• It doesn't make the news when some celebrity comes out as left-handed. The tabloids don't talk about left-handed scandals. It doesn't hurt someone's career if the public finds out that he's left-handed. A politician won't use his opponent's manual orientation in a negative campaign.
• There is no need for massive support rallies for left-handed people. There will probably never be a Left-handed Pride Parade. One's parents won't be joining PFL-H.
• Restaurant, hotels, and resorts don't advertize as "left-handed friendly."
  I also have doubts that there are left-handed bars, though I may be wrong. You don't see signs up in businesses saying "Left-handed owned and operated."

But most of all...

• No one complains about "special rights" when a left-hander wants a pair of scissors that work for him.
• No right hander complains that it is a violation of his civil rights to make left-handed scissors available.
• No one complains that providing left-handed scissors would change the definition of scissors.

Did you notice that all the ways in which being left-handed and being gay are different are in the ways other people see them? All the differences are merely social constructs, whereas all the ways they are the same have to do with intrinsic personal qualities.

And now all my answers to questions like the one above will be influenced by this line of thinking.

Houseguest

A friend called me tonight. His sanity-challenged girlfriend finally pushed him to the limit, and he's staying with us for the night. I fixed him a pizza and a coke and we sat out on the front porch talking till he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.
He's been a good friend for a long time, and only distance has kept us apart the last several years. The selfish part of me is hoping that whatever change he makes in his circumstance will allow us to see each other more often, but of course he's got to make decisions that work for him. I wish I could solve all his problems, but like most humans I can't be all wise and all powerful. I can only hope that something I said or did made a positive difference.

215,675,903 Channels, And Nothing's On.

I spend too much time on the Internet now that we have DSL. Actually we both do. But I've noticed lately that I'm staying online a lot even when I'm not being entertained or learning anything. Like now, for instance.

Anyway, last night was a terribly slow night, and I finished all of my tasks very early in the evening, so I spent some time surfing the web.

First place to go was to blogspot to check the blogs I follow. Gian had an awesome day. That's good. Band of Thebes had a book review. It didn't look particularly interesting, though I admit I was judging the book by its cover. Mickey Hepner (mickeyhepner.blogspot.com) wrote about how the new health care law is becoming more popular as people are figuring out what it's really all about (though you would never know it from listening to all the politicians running for Mary Fallin's seat.)

Mr. Hepner also wrote a commentary about a piece in the New York Times by David Leonhardt about lessons we should be learning from the Great Depression. According to Mr. Leonhardt, the government started getting panicky about all the deficit spending they were doing, and stopped supporting the ailing public sector, and thereby extended the Depression by several years. Lawmakers today, are also worrying about the deficit spending going on right now, and are wanting to stop government spending while the economy is too weak to do without it. That could send us into a double-dip recession or into a depression. This article covers a subject Mickey has commented on a few times before.

Nothing else recent on blogspot, so over to Facebook, where an invitation to join, or like, or befriend, or whatever, Senator Tom Coburn, who wants to stop out-of-control government spending. Knowing Oklahoma, that's likely to get him re-elected.

I see my friend Anthony has responded to the comment on his status. The day before he lamented about the lack of Supreme Court nominees who knew what the Constitution was. My comment was a cut and paste from the New York Times quoting nominee Kagan about the importance of the Constitution. He responded with an oblique reference to the Harvard incident where Dean Kagan upheld a pre-existing campus policy that pitted the military against civil rights. Ultimately, civil rights lost. I don't know what that has to do with his original comment, but...okay.

Well, I'm wondering if Ms Kagan has another quote I can use concerning this, so I go to the New York Times website to see if there's a quotable quote. As it happens, Ms Kagan was grilled by Senator Jeff Sessions about this very topic that day, and she did indeed have something to say about it, but the best quote was interlaced with other stuff, and...when you use...too many ellipses...it kinda takes the air...out of your...point, so I skipped it.

Nothing else of interest on Facebook, so now I'm off to Politifact.org to see what kind of silliness is going on in the world. Naturally, they're covering the confirmation hearings and have muchos entries, but I've already read most of them. There's a whole page of stuff about the Harvard Law School incident (I say incident, but in fact the policy was adopted in 1979 that required non-discrimination among potential employers in order for them to recruit on campus. The military, of course, was not able to sign such an agreement, and was not allowed to recruit through the school's Office of Career Services; instead, they recruited through the Harvard Law School Veterans Association.) I reread the page to see if there was anything more to learn from it. There's room to quibble on both sides of the argument.
There's an item about her saying that recruitment actually went up in 2005, the same year that the non-discrimination policy was put back in effect (Congress had applied some financial pressure [there's a word for that--it's not extortion, it's...] and schools across the nation had relented under protest. Harvard Law School let the military recruiters back in to the Office of Career Services for a couple of years, though it didn't make any difference in their success.) Politifact rated her statement as "Half-True" for reasons that didn't seem to have anything to do with the statement. Five is up from three, no matter how you slice it. If you check it out, let me know if you agree with them and why.

I wondered if the Washington Post had anything new or different to say about this, but you have to sign up to get their stories, and I was on the computer at work, so no. Anyway, enough of that.

How much would a DVD of "Bullets over Broadway" cost on Amazon? Ooh. Even with shipping it's less than $10. Tempting.

And then I couldn't think of a single other thing I wanted to look at. So I summoned all of my strength and moved the cursor towards the little x in the top corner...

The Victimization of a Yes Man

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.

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.