Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Oil Slick: A Letter to My Superiors

Dear Hotel in Which I am Gainfully Employed, 

I did a very bad thing yesterday and would like to confess. A job in the hotel industry demands courtesy, hospitality, and respect of a guest's property. I admit that I consciously broke one of those guidelines. Allow me to explain:

I was having a bad "doorman day." I'm sure if you're the one reading this letter, in your air conditioned office, with your weekends and holidays off, with your family that you get to go home to every night, with the Internet to keep you occupied all day, with your free lunch from the hotel restaurant, you may not understand the frustrations that come with people treating you like an indentured servant. I assure you, it can become quite degrading. But I don't want to bore you with my feelings. After all, I'm just a lowly doorman.

Anywho...


It was about two hours into my shift and I had made zero dollars. Zero. As in, all of the people that I helped didn't feel compelled to give me any money for my hard work and million dollar smile. I was, to put it tamely, extremely frustrated. In my opinion, what makes me a valuable asset to this company is that I never allow my frustrations to come to the surface when dealing with the guests. I continued to push through and provide Class-A service, even though, technically, I wasn't getting paid for it. 

I mean, with all due respect, let's say you were working like a maniac for a half hour. You completed the task to the best of your abilities and provided top-notch service to your client. Then, your client says- "thank you, but you will not be paid for this." Now, you're not allowed to say anything. You just have to take it and HOPE that the next client doesn't do the same thing, or else you won't be able to keep a roof over your head. You wouldn't like that very much, would you? 

Anywho... 

A family of four makes their way toward the door and are in need of a taxi to Penn Station. They're American. Looks like I'll be ending this little losing streak that's been growing. They have four heavy suitcases, one of which has one of those neck pillows the people use on planes and trains. You know, the ones that are shaped like a "C"? Well, what happened was, when I went to heave this heavy, clearly overweight luggage into the back of the taxi, risking throwing my back out, the little neck pillow fell onto the ground. There just happened to be an oil slick in the very spot that the pillow landed. I felt terrible. I picked it up immediately and went to tell the guest right away. I wanted to take full responsibility for my actions. 

Problem was, they had all already jumped in the taxi, shut the door and rolled up the windows. They hadn't given me a tip, nor did they bother to thank me. 

What I did next was just flat-out wrong. I took a look at the black oil stain on the pillow and, gosh darnit, if I didn't just go ahead and put that pillow right into the trunk and not tell the guest a word about it. They must have gotten on the train, ready to relax, put their little ear buds in, opened their e-reader, ready for their journey, only to be greeted by an oily surprise on the back of their neck. 

Dear person reading this letter, the reason I wanted to tell you this story boils down to one thing: 

I'm not sorry. 

Not. One. Fucking. Bit. 

FUCK those people. Fuck them in every fucking orifice of their bodies. 

I expect this front some cunt French or Brazilian family, but to get stiffed like that by white Americans??? Are you fucking kidding me??? That's a special kind of low-life. If you're not a tipper, whatever. You still suck, but there may be some redeeming quality there. For you to jump in the taxi and immediately shut the door, leaving me to tend to these fucking dead-weight, jumbo suitcases and not even say "thank you" makes you an animal. Just a no-good, sack of shit, fucking ANIMAL. 

Had I known they were going to do that, I would have put the pillow down my pants and onto my sweaty balls and swamp-ass taint and anus before coating it in a layer of oil. 

Anywho... 

I hope you will understand my point-of-view and acknowledge that I've been none other than a model employee in my time here. This is just one little slip-up in an otherwise magnificent body of work in this hotel. I allowed my frustrations affect my work performance and professionalism. It may or may not happen again. I'm leaning toward the latter. I shall now defer any other communication to my union delegate. Thank you for your time. 

All the Best, 

Doorman 
TBoneHotel@gmail.com 

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