The Job

What, you may ask*, does SuperKate do for 8 exciting hours at the front desk?

I shall tell you.

"Good morning, thank you for calling the [insert name of hotel here]. This is Kate, how may I direct your call?" "Hotel operator, this is Kate, how may I drect your call?" and, "Front Desk, this is Kate, how may I help you?" have become an integral part of phone technique so much so that I have to stop myself from saying such things when I answer the phone at home. I have started referring to everyone I know as "sir" and "ma'am". It's not pretty.

On a good day, I actually check a real person in without fucking up completely. And check real people out (though not in the fun way) without charging the wrong credit card. On a bad day I check the wrong VIP into the wrong suite (is it my fault the group of VIP's descended on me en mass when the supervisor and everyone who knew what they were doing had gone on break and Mr Smelly responded when I asked for Mr Buggy after Mr HairGel had done his very best to confuse the Hell out of me?).

Today I got to make key cards for 45 teenagers. After checking them each in individually because no one bothered to inform me that there was a group check-in feature in the PMS (property management system). I also got to restrict telephone and movie access in each of their rooms.

At least I get smoke breaks.

*Or not

Good Morning!

Why is it that I only seem to blog when I've been drinking?*

Anyway, I've become an intern. I've been working for 2ish weeks now and I haven't had sex in a supply closet yet. It's really very disappointing.

Not that I've met anyone screwable on the job yet, but whatever (we haven't even had a guest who was worthy of the eye candy title). To borrow a phrase from Shawn, I wouldn't kick at least one of my coworkers out of bed, but they're married/living with a significant other. Not that that has stopped me before, but I suppose I'm growing up. Or becoming more possessive.

Anyway, everyone knows that hospitality internship = random sex in a supply closet. I should be getting some. Instead I shall have to cry in a corner.

I think it's really funny that people** don't understand that we can tell by their bill how many pornos they watched in their room. So, for the record, even though it isn't marked "Adult movie" on your bill, the fact that the movie cost $36.42 instead of $12.00 (the price of a regular movie) tells us what you have been up to.

I also think our sales people need to get together and discuss the groups they're booking. It was quite amusing when the drag queens were staying with us at the same time as the uber-macho hockey players*** and the little old ladies having a sorority meeting. I'm waiting for the day we have the Black Panthers staying at the same time as the KKK****.

And teenagers***** need to be banned from hotels. Period. They should also be shot repeatedly. And poked with super-heated metal spikey things. It was fun to watch them jump in the outdoor pool though since it is unheated (we didn't bother to tell them, although it was mentioned that the pool was closed for the season).

Anyway, that is my life. I am now going to go sleep. Because sleep is good.

*Note to self: Drink more often

**Business salesmen who are red, puffy, and unattractive

***Who broke one of the elevators

****Do those groups even exist anymore?

*****Especially giggling obnoxious youth group teenage girls who somehow manage to break the same elevator as the hockey players