Writer. Actor. Filmmaker. #Doorman.
For the sake of my career and sanity, I have moved on from the hotel world. For inquiries, contact Chris Russell directly at email@example.com.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Doorman Scares the Shit Out of French Tourist
Back in my concierge days, I hated the French. Rude, refuses to speak english, never tips a dime- just the worst people to deal with if you're in the service industry. When I took this job, my prime target became the Brazilians because of their aloofness and apparent dead bodies that they carry in their suitcases. For some reason, my hotel didn't seem to house many French people, and the more time I spent as a doorman, the less I saw of them in the city on the whole. Unfortunately, over the past couple of months, the French have made their way back, with a motherfucking vengeance. Groups and groups and busloads and shuttles of these assholes keep flooding my establishment, leaving my weekly pull in tips decreasing rapidly as the weeks go on. Not only that, but my spirits are continuously crushed by these soulless assholes. Yes, like you've heard in the movies, the French are, in fact, assholes. So this fucking guy approaches me with a large duffle bag. He's a smarmy little prick, with one of those stupid mustaches that looks like chopped-up baby hair. I'm about 20 minutes from my lunch break, starving, and trying to stay upbeat. Him- "Ehhhhh where is building CNN?" No "excuse me" or "hello, sir". No, just push the information box and wait for a response. His accent is thick. Me- "Where do they film CNN?" That's a legitimate response question that I'm asking here. Hundreds of shows are filmed in the city. Him- "Ehhhh No. No, no no. Ehhh Building C-N-N" Now he's speaking to me like how stupid people speak to the hearing impaired. Trying to stay patient, I keep a smile on my face. Me- "I'm not sure what you're asking me for, sir." He rolls his eyes in my face. Listen, fucko- there are thousands of buildings in this city. I can't be expected to know them all. I clench my teeth and make one last effort to help this idiot. He extends the palm of his hand and uses his other index finger to write "C-N-N" on his palm. Him- "Ehhhh building with the C-N-N." You said that already, stupid. But with my best bullshit smile, I keep it together. Me- "Sir, I'm sorry, but I don't know." He gives up, and with most other people, they would politely move on. Not this jaggoff. He wanted to inform me that he was let down. Him- "Ehhh you are living here in New York?" Me- "Yeah, I do." He scoffs, puts his hand up in my face, and walks away. I get a sudden rush of blood to my fists. If this were a time in my life where I had something personal going on, or was just in a really bad mood, one of those fists would have connected with his temple from behind and I very well could have killed him. Luckily for him and, more importantly, myself, I wasn't in one of those moods. But fuck if I was going to let him get away with that. Me- "HEY!" He turns, and looks as if I have inconvenienced him. Me- "You a guest in the hotel?" Him- "Ehhh no." Me- "Good! Now go fuck yourself. Go fuck yourself, then go a plane, back to where you came from, and fuck yourself some more." He looks at me, dumbfounded. Me- "Oh, did you not understand that? Let me help you!" I extend my hand, use my index finger to write on my palm, and speak to him like how stupid people speak to the hearing impaired. Me- "GET... THE... FUCK... OUT... OF... HERE... BEFORE... I... HURT... YOU." He quickly turns and power-walks toward Central Park with the ferocity of someone who shit their pants at a carnival. Me- "Good luck finding it, sir!" Welcome to New York, you smelly frog. I googled "CNN Building" when I got home. Maybe this was what he wanted? I dunno. Who cares?