TalesFromTheFrontDesk: Mr. Pimp and the final stay

I’m finally ready to share the story of Mr. Pimp.

A few weeks ago, I met Mr. Pimp for the first time. He is not a spring chicken by any means, and his “girlfriend” was easily 1/3 his age. These two come strolling in shortly after one in the afternoon and asks for a room. Now, as a new FDA, I decided to play innocent and offered a standard two queen room because who was I to say they were shaking up or if she was just his home health aid? They refused the two queens and asked for a jacuzzi suite. At that moment, I got my trainer involved.

So we set up the reservation and this guy pulls out stacks of crispy, fresh from the bank $100 bills. Pays cash. Get a card for incidentals. All is well from a financial standpoint. Initial here, sign there, and here’s your keys. They go out and come back in with 3 bags each for one night.

Me, being naïve, thought for a few seconds, why would two people need 6 bags for one night? The other most peculiar thing they had was a holiday wreath. I blinked a few times. Turned around, and found the head housekeeper. I whispered to her in her office how she may want to put two people on their room the next day for check out because it seemed kind of odd. She made the note.

The rest of the night, we don’t hear a peep. Not a single complaint either. So we go on with our duties, assign rooms, running night Audit, etc. You know how these things go.

The next morning, the housekeeper- bless her soul, went in to clean. It was a disaster zone. It was as if someone took a hand grenade, stuffed it with glitter and confetti, then let it go off. Confetti coated the carpet, easily an inch think. Then she found popped balloons covered in poop. Ping pong balls with poop. Paint brushes, blood stains, “scootch marks” as the housekeeper put it, as well. It was like a child’s birthday party gone totally wrong. But the wreath was no where to be found! They took it with them.

So, after discussions with the FDAs, the managers, and Housekeeping, it was decided that this gentleman was on the No Fly List for this property. DNR. Not even if hell froze over.

Then today happened. The most experienced FDA, who has been here for like, 12 years, rented him a room. After we all decided he was a firm fuck no.

So I texted my manager. She says if I hear a single peep or complaint, I am to call the cops and evict him. If I don’t hear a peep, she’ll call the cops on the prostitute in the morning and explain to him that he is no longer welcome, ever, to this property for his involvement in prostitution.

Eviction number one of two this evening. 👊🏻👊🏻

By: EricaM13

theatredragon  asked:

Hot tub or jacuzzi sex?

Best I could do was “sex”

Living with the two of them meant dealing with Alex’s workaholic tendencies and Lafayette’s insanely high sex drive. It meant going to bed happy and waking up there too. Never, in his 27 years on earth, had John ever felt really truly home.