Confessions of a Bellman - Job Security

Last week I did a room-change. Sometimes when a guest checks-in late—and the hotel is overbooked—the room the person reserved isn't available. The hotel usually compensates by not charging the guest to stay the night in another room, since that room isn't what the guest had booked.  Come morning, they're told to leave their luggage by the door, and that a bellman will move the bags to their newly available and originally requested room. More times than not the bellman never gets to see the guest, hence room-changes are known among bellmen as "dead runs."

So that's what I did. I picked up some luggage in a room, and took it across the hotel to a different tower and dropped it off in another room.  I probably do three or four room-changes on an average day, and it's never been a big deal.

The next day I had to fill out a security report because the room where I delivered the luggage was the wrong room. Thankfully, it wasn't my fault. Whoever entered the room-change into the computer had entered the wrong room number, and the room I delivered the luggage to was actually already occupied by another guest. When that guest returned to her room and saw someone else's luggage, she freaked the fuck out.  The guest stated in her security report that two hundred dollars—that she had left on the coffee table—was now missing. The guest was a ranked player and a regular visitor to the hotel, and she was reimbursed the two hundred dollars, with apologies.

The next morning the same lady was checking-out of the hotel and called for a bellman. Just by coincidence, I was assigned the call. On the way to the room, I decided to play things cool and not mention the previous day's incident. I wanted to see if she would bring it up.

With her luggage on my cart, we descended down the elevator.

"How was your stay?" I asked.

"Oh, it was fine, except one of your coworkers stole two hundred dollars from my room."  She said.

"Yes, I heard about that. "

"You did?"

"Yes, because I was the bellman who put the stranger's luggage in your room."

The lady didn't know what to say. I think she was surprised I didn't look like a typical thief, you know, with a black mask over my eyes.

"Ma'am, I'm not saying you didn't lose two hundred dollars, but I want you to know I wasn't the one who took it. You don't last 15 years at a hotel if you steal stuff."

"Well, somebody took it."

I shrugged my shoulders.  "Well, at least the hotel settled things with you, right?"

"Yes, that they did."

I put her in a taxi, and she actually gave me a decent tip. I think she felt a tad-bit guilty.

Here's the thing I didn't tell her: Whenever I use my electronic pass-key to gain entry to a room, computers in the security office keep a log of it. They know what time a door to a room is opened, and when it closes. In my situation, security knew I had only spent 12 seconds with the door open, the exact time it took to place three bags in the wrong room. Security also knew that no one else—not a housekeeper or engineer—had been in the room.

So why did the hotel reimburse her the money? Because the customer is always right. Also, I think it's safe to say the hotel got it's two hundred dollars back—and then some—since she was a ranked gambler, and a regular guest of the hotel.

FiN.

Confessions of a Bellman - Celebrity Dog Poop

 

"Outside of a dog, man's best friend is a good book. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read." Groucho Marx

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Disclaimer from Tyge: This was a drunken conversation, held in jest. Harry the Warrant, nor myself, condone the kidnapping of people or animals—Canadian, British, or otherwise.

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"Tyge, what ya think about starting a kidnapping business with me?"

The voice belonged to Harry the Warrant, and he had sneaked up behind me at the bar. His arm was around my shoulder, and I could smell a combination of beer and Jagermeister on his breath.

"Someone already tried that with Steve Wynn's daughter and it didn't work," I said.

"I know, that kidnapper was a complete idiot," Harry replied.

"The Warrant" is Harry's nickname because every time the police check his identification, Harry tends to have an outstanding warrant, or two. It's always for minor infractions, like missing a court date for being intoxicated while in public. Harry is pretty much harmless though—he lost his driving privileges years ago. When he's drunk—which is pretty much whenever I see him—he's always thinking-up crazy shit. Last fall when I climbed Mount Charleston,  Harry told me about his plans to climb the highest peak on each of the seven continents. He had at least done some homework on the subject, and was able to rattle-off all the names of the summits, along with their altitudes. I told  him he should try climbing Mount Charleston first, since he's in no better physical shape than me, and being that Mount Charleston had kicked my ass.

"Kilimanjaro. I'm going to start with fucking Kilimanjaro," he replied.

"So who you thinking about kidnapping?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that Canadian Diva's kid."

"Little Charles?" He'd probably be too much of a handful to deal with."

"Okay then, what about Sir E.J.'s dog?"

"Arthur? That dog was Best Man in E.J.'s wedding—now you're onto something," I said.

"The dog's collar is like, embedded with jewels and shit. I hear it's worth a fucking ton of money," Harry said.

"Well, instead of kidnapping the dog, why not just steal the collar?"

You could see the drunk gears slowly turning in Harry's head.

I told “The Warrant" about how I used to walk Arthur, back when Sir E.J. was performing regularly at the hotel.  Every three hours or so, a bellman would have to go to the suite and get the dog—a very sweet and playful Cocker Spaniel—and walk him around the area behind the swimming pools, so the dog could take a shit. After walking him a few times though, I requested to be taken off the rotation because really, being a peon of a bellman is enough, and I didn't want "Dog Walker to the Stars" added to my list of minor accomplishments. Besides that, I was afraid Arthur would suddenly drop-dead while on my watch.

"Did you ever think about kidnapping the dog?" Harry asked.

"No, but I often thought about putting his poop on Ebay."

Harry's face lit up. "Dude, you could have totally video-tapped the dog taking a shit, ya know, as proof."

I nodded.

"I wonder what you could have got for a pile of celebrity dog shit on Ebay," Harry mused.

"I know exactly what I would've got," I said.

 “Fired."

FiN.