Motel Manager Work Stories: Part VI Anniversary Edition

Hello, Imgur peoples. I've been putting off this work stories post for far too long, almost 5 months from my Part V post. Anyways, I have been working at a privately owned motel in Southern California for the last 5 years and I've been a manager here for the past 4. It's been a wild ride, I wouldn't wish it on anyone - but at the same time, I wouldn't trade my experiences for anything. It's been truly eye-opening and I wouldn't get this type of life experience in any other job.

I made my first work stories post just over a year ago - Valentine's day 2017. As with my previous posts, I will be writing these events out at-length, there will be no TL:DR or a sweet and condensed version - if you don't want to read, click next... alternatively, there is a URL bar somewhere around here that can take you literally anywhere else. Magic.

Little side note, in response to Google removing the "View Image" button on searches due to Getty Images suing them, I've utilized the userscript extension to re-enable this function to specifically fetch this image from Getty Images for your viewing pleasure without viewing their stupid, stupid site. Fuck you, Getty Images - you cunts. No one ever loved you, I doubt your children can even read...
Here's my former work stories posts if you'd like to take a look (all FP posts, love y'all for that!)

Part 1: http://imgur.com/gallery/ckwLL
Part 2: http://imgur.com/gallery/YsVp3
Part 3: http://imgur.com/gallery/5ZSOZ
Part 4: https://imgur.com/gallery/nIlvh
Part 5: https://imgur.com/gallery/5WtH2

DISCLAIMER: All of these are "new" in that they've happened since the last work stories post. Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to write them thus far, it's been a very... cathartic experience to get it all out.

At any rate, welcome to my life. I hope my troubles and strife provide you some joy today... if not some deep personal feelings.

I'm normally very appreciative of the police. With one notable exception (That is, Detective Douchetits from a previous post who thought I was some criminal mastermind - oh btw, he's been "forced into retirement" now. Fun stuff!) Typically, my rapport with the police is very pleasant, over the years most of the cops have met me, I was in a study group with some of their kids in college, I even helped tutor one through his English Lit course at my college... I would rate my overall satisfaction with the police at 4.7/5, so good enough that I would buy them on Amazon, so to speak.

At any rate, this is not going to be a flattering story for them. We had a customer here in November who was, for lack of a better term - eccentric, for the purposes of this I'll name hill Billyjoe Handyjay. He's had some mental episodes over the last couple years, but he can normally be reasoned with and you can "talk him down" relatively easily. I have loads of experience with mentally ill people, I've had a few schizophrenics in my family and friend circles throughout my life so I'm pretty sympathetic and patient with them, I think. Up until this point, the worst he's done is dance around the parking lot singing "Hard Knock Life" in a sundress... this is a 60-something year old, short, balding man - so have fun with the visual.

This was a massive exception. Around the beginning of November, he apparently stopped sleeping. After a few days of complaints, I realized the issue was persistent. This is when I started to intercede, I asked him when he last slept and he couldn't give me a straight answer. Instead, I asked his neighbor (since I know his episodes couldn't happen without his neighbor knowing) I learned that he had gone at least 4 days without sleeping, which is pretty bad. I asked him to lie down but he refused - he may have taken street drugs, quite possibly. On day 5, he begins to approach people in the parking lot, fearing for his life, saying people are chasing him - the final straw for me was that he started pounding on the glass of a car parked in a lot... saying that the children inside are drowning. (there were no children in the car) I called the police and notified them of the increasingly erratic behavior, an officer arrived and agreed to detain him for a 72-hour involuntary commitment.

The process of how these works are different in each state, but the gist of it is the officer is supposed to take the guy before a judge and state his case that the guy is mentally dangerous to himself or others - then the guy is taken to a mental health facility to be evaluated and then the doctor gives his recommendation on whether to do a 72-hour evaluation - which the judge can either accept or reject. This is standard law enforcement practice across the board - with small changes according to state and local laws. Apparently, the officer never went before a judge and never even filed any paperwork on it - he just took him to the police station, held him in the drunk tank for a few hours, and then he was released. So fast forward to midnight, I think it's all over - he's going to be held for the evaluation and he'll probably be held for 3 days, but by the end of it he'd have gotten some sleep and it'll be for the best. Of course, I'm dreading have a conversation with this guy after having him committed, but I'm trying to find silver linings because I'm so fucking proactive, right?

Wrong. So wrong. At around midnight, BJ came back and - apparently - filled a cooking pot with kerosine and put it on a hotplate in his room. I hear yelling from outside "Call 9-1-1! Call 9-1-1!" I look out the window and see flames shooting out of his fucking window clear up to the roof (2-storey building), entirely wrapping the upper deck in flames. I call 9-1-1 on my cell phone and quickly call for the fire department. I go up to the rooms near the fire and open them. (Mainly checking to see if they were occupied, most were) I run down to the utility room and flip the main breaker as well.

That's when I see him. BJ Handyjay, prancing (skipping, really) around the parking lot in a sundress and - I shit you not - the tiniest bow and arrow I've ever seen, less than 2 feet long with those little suction-cup arrows.... and a 99-cent store tiara on his bald head... held on with a chinstrap. The fire was put out, thankfully no one was hurt, the insurance was paid, the damage is well underway to being completely fixed, but words cannot express how pissed off I was that this all happened because a police officer was feeling lazy.

This happened just a few days before Halloween.

This lady, lets call her Evelyn McMeltycunt, had been staying at the motel for about 3 weeks. She has an infant child and assured us that she has a crib set up in her room for her baby. She also insisted that she doesn't want housekeeping - we don't bat an eye at requests like that because it's a pretty common request to not want strangers rooting around through your personal belongings... We do mandatory housekeeping on our high-end rooms, but this room was scheduled for a remodel - which was set to take place whenever she decided to leave... so we weren't sweating ruined carpet or anything like that since we'd be ripping it all out anyway.

One day, around checkout time we get a lady who lived below Ms. McMeltycunt turning in her key at the front desk.
"Geez, that baby above us has been crying since 4AM!"

That struck me as odd because after 3 weeks of this lady being here, we'd become aware of her routine. She normally leaves at about 3AM in an Uber, taking her baby with her. I check the receipts and verify that she paid for the room earlier that day on a previous shift, I even called the clerk-on-duty at the time to verify that she paid for the room herself, which he verified that she did. So now I'm concerned, because he also mentioned he saw her leave in the Uber. I go up to the room and can hear the baby crying from a few doors down - oddly enough, none of the other rooms complained about the noise the whole time. I knock on the door and immediately hear loud barking on the other side.

To reiterate my point from previous posts, we are not a pet-friendly motel - there's hundreds of reasons why, most notably because there have been instances of people's service animals being attacked by non-service animals at other motels. We tend to get a bunch of legitimate service animals specifically because we aren't shy about calling "bullshit" on people trying to pass off standard pets, companion animals, or therapy animals as "service dogs" So we occupy a fairly niche market in that regard. Nevertheless, Ms. McMeltycunt did not have a registered service dog when she checked in. The curtains are drawn enough for me to get a good look inside and I see the baby on the bed - the dog is guarding it. His hair is standing up and he's very clearly protective of it. Furthermore, there is no crib whatsoever in the room - the baby is simply lying on a bed pretty about 4 feet off the ground with no protection whatsoever, not even swaddled.

I don't see McMeltycunt anywhere, I knock again hoping she's just in the bathroom. After a couple more minutes of crying, barking, and no adult answering I call the police. They arrive and assess the situation, calling animal control for the dog and social services for the baby - I also pull up her registration info and he puts an ABP out for the mother. Social services arrive within an hour, but the cop and the social worker are reluctant to enter the room with the dog - animal control warned them that in the situation, the dog may try to move the baby if they approach, which would undoubtedly injure the baby.

At this point, the social worker is seriously trying to convince the officer to shoot the dog - which to me, didn't sound like a good idea AT ALL. Struck me as really odd that the social worker was condoning not only firing a gun in a room with an infant, but also with the infant potentially in the line of fire... I have experience with guns from most of my life, I wouldn't feel comfortable with that situation at all. Thankfully, it never developed beyond that point - it was pretty obvious the cop wasn't going for it.

After another hour, animal control finally shows up... unclear why it took them almost 2 hours to arrive, but we're nevertheless happy they are here. We're watching through the curtains to make sure the baby is still alright, he's stopped crying at this point, but doesn't appear to be in distress - well, aside from the obvious. The animal control officer gets his control pole and starts to move into the room, as soon as the dog sees the pole, he starts snarling and moves closer to the baby. The AC officer backs off and says that the dog is reacting to the control pole, so he probably has dealt with animal control before - which is ostensibly a bad thing. So now we don't know what to do.

Enter: My dad, the hero of this story. My dad has trained dogs for most of his life, he also rehabbed aggressive pittbulls/staffordshires before I was born, so he has more experience with dangerous animals than this young AC officer, undoubtedly. He was stopping by because this is supposed to be my lunch break - he brought some In-N-Out (double hero, in my book) Anyways, he looks in at the dog and the baby and asks to help, without a control pole - which the AC officer says is the only thing he has for dogs.

He goes out to his car and gets a masonry glove, slips it on his right hand and walks into the room. He shoves his right hand into the dog's mouth, grabs its lower jaw, pushes the jaw down, and then picks it up with his left arm and walks outside. He made it look like the simplest thing in the world - especially to the AC officer. The AC officer puts the control pole around his neck (had to go around his whole body) and my dad lets go. This is where we see this dog is INCREDIBLY skinny and absolutely covered in fleas. He's a lot more submissive now that he's not near the infant, however.

The social services lady checks on the baby - who is also covered in fleas and fleabites, and takes it away for a physical and assumed delousing. The officer took statements from me and the previous clerk on shift. We don't know what exactly happened with this, but I would assume - or at least, hope - that she got a significant prison sentence for this. I really wish I didn't have to blue balls this story conclusion, but we've tried and we can't get any additional info on it.

Let me preface this story with one simple fact: I am a coffee snob. It's not my best trait, but I don't enjoy cheap coffee - and I similarly consider most coffee to be "cheap," even some of the expensive cheap stuff. There is a coffee blend that I love, that's roasted at a small coffee shop about 2 miles from where I work. It's great, but it's kind of weak for my tastes - so instead, I mix it with Valhalla Java by Deathwish Coffee. The blend is perfect for me - doubly so because I don't even drink coffee every day.

Well, we used to offer coffee in the mornings at our motel. We discontinued this due to waste and rising coffee prices, and the fact that the coffee was only meant for our daily and weekly guests - but after a while, the monthly guests were the ones using the most of it. Figuring in the low margins and rising costs of the coffee, we were losing money just in this one area on monthly rooms - very disappointing. So we scrapped it altogether.

I was scheduled for a double shift, but I was craving coffee before the shift even started. So, I packed up my coffee supplies - yes, coffee supplies... and brought them with me to work. Everything in my coffee setup is super pretentious and hella expensive. I have a super posh grinder to get the grinds just fine, individual paper filters - because drip coffee is for the plebians, ceramic filter mounts for individual cups, organic goat cream, organic turbinado sugar, and an all-glass electric kettle. I've worked on getting the process down perfectly for years - all-in-all, I've probably spent more on getting this right than I've spent on my gaming rig... so there's a substantial portion of my ego tied with it. Everyone who has tried my coffee can't get enough of it - it's like mana from heaven. To abbreviate this entire section: my coffee is fucking dope.

So anyway, I made a cup of coffee for myself at the start of the shift. A lady came in and smelled the coffee. "Ooooooh, that smells amazing, did I miss coffee time?"

"Oh, sorry - we don't serve coffee... I just have a cup for myself."

"... in a mug?"

"Yeah, I made a cup."

"Do you think I could snag a cup from the pot?"

"There isn't a pot, it makes one cup."

"Like a Keurig?"

"Well, ye - no, not really."

I ended up showing her the setup, how the ceramic holder goes over the cup, how the filter lines all the little ceramic holes, and how the grounds aren't having water poured over them for 10 minutes. I explained how this makes much less acid in the coffee, because much of acidity only comes out with prolonged steeping - like in a drip system. She was fascinated, lots of "ooohs" and "aaahs" Finally, she asked if I could please make her a cup. Admittedly, I was a little embarrassed that I allowed myself to rant about my coffee snobbery - I mean, shit, I'm embarrassed I've ranted THIS MUCH about my coffee snobbery already... so I relented and agreed to make her a cup.

I ground the coffee to the perfect size for the filter, I fitted the ceramic over the mug, wedged the filter in just right, let the water heat up (because all-glass ones take a bit longer to get hot enough - but they don't make the water taste metallic) I splashed a bit of water into the grounds, the bloom from it was intoxicating! After about a minute, it was ready, I poured the rest of the water over the grounds, the water drained away through the filter at a steady, constant speed - perfect. I asked her how much cream and sugar would she like - she said "Lots of both" so I made it a bit sweeter than I typically like it with a touch more cream.

I handed her the cup, with the confidence that I had just changed this woman's life.

She spits it out.

On the floor.

The floor I cleaned at the start of the shift.

She tosses the mug to the floor, breaking it - starts scraping her tongue with her dirty ass whore fingers.

"If that's what you think good coffee is, you're a fucking joke."

Well, I don't know about you folks - but to me, that cup of coffee was worth significantly more to me than her life... An odd mix of anger, hate, embarrassment, and despair washed over me. I was speechless, completely shattered...

She left.

I don't make people coffee anymore... it doesn't even taste the same to me anymore.

This is a fun one.

We had a guy come through, mid-30s - attractive. Totally hitting all my points of physical attraction - so imagine my jeans cream when I find out he blows shit up for a living. Yes, he's a pyrotechnics artist - basically, he designs and makes fireworks. Well, this was on New Years Eve - he had his son with him, about 12 or 13 years old and developmentally disabled, not a deal-breaker mind you. [This story doesn't end with someone getting dicked down, relax] Anyways, he asks me where he can set off these monster 8-inch mortars he has in his truck - I inform him that they aren't legal in California, he doesn't care... because he's a badass. I point him to the dry lakes, specifically because I know the Sheriffs "dismantle" fireworks there, which is just a roundabout way of saying they get drunk and launch confiscated fireworks off from there a few times a year.

He thanks me and tells me around what time he'll be launching them - so we know to watch.

Well me and the others on shift waited for the launch - but it never happened. He came back a few hours later and told us that the winds were a bit too high for his liking and the desert was bone dry. I mean, he's probably right - and I didn't think of that - historically he's definitely right because California was on fire for the next fucking month, but I digress. He's taking the mortar shells up to his room - I don't like the idea of having them in his room, but he's worried that they'd be stolen if he left them in the truck bed (they would have, for sure) - and they won't fit in the cab of the truck.... so, I relented. I went about my night as they unloaded the mortars.

Suddenly, I hear a huge boom outside and run to see what the fuck just happened. I see broken glass, a lot of broken glass - and the guy's kid is standing outside of their room, covering his ears and crying. One of my desk clerks is having a smoke break so I ask him what happened.

"That kid was loading up the mortars and he put the tube to his chest and tried to launch the mortar off the balcony."

"And-?"

"And it hit the awning and bounced into the stairwell."

"You saw him do that?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't think to say anything?"

"I thought it would work too."

The shell exploded in the stairwell, which was thankfully empty at the time - however, it broke about 6 different windows when it went off. We did welfare checks on all the nearby rooms just in case, but no injuries - most people thought it was a car hitting the building. After a few hours of dealing with the police, they ruled it as an unfortunate accident. They seized his fireworks and he got a court-date. He offered outright to pay for the damages, so we didn't press charges. The next day, we had a contractor show up unannounced to replace the broken windows and the scorched areas of the stairwell. Thankfully, the guy carried through on his agreement.

Thankfully for this one, I DO have a follow-up because he brought us up to speed in January. Apparently, his fireworks were confiscated and he got a $1000 fine and had to attend a series of parenting classes. He had a license to transfer the fireworks through the state though, so he avoided any felonies. The employee who watched it all unfold still works here... and is still fucking clueless.

This might be the least impressive of the stories, but I have to include it.

This has all been in the last 24 hours. It's been a hard day, well the 16th was a hard day - I guess it's the 17th now. My dad's birthday was yesterday and I got the day off scheduled weeks ago to spend some time with him. One of my employees called in an emergency due to a family emergency, so I was going to have take up her night shift - which is unavoidable I guess. However, the owner was taking the afternoon shift because we're down an employee at the moment due to jury duty.

No problem.

However, my boss calls me at noon and begs me to take her shift, because her family's travel plans fell through and she can potentially spend more time with them before they go back to China for a year. So... being me, I reluctantly agreed. So on my scheduled day off, I was facing a double-shift, 2PM-6AM. I thought it would be an easy day, despite me having not slept all day - but I was wrong.

All through the day, we've had domestic disputes between a few groups staying here. We've had nonstop complaints about different issues, blown breakers, a burst water line, several clogged drains, and a fried cable box. Plus one specific guy was arguing and fighting with his girlfriend and her family/friends. Every 20 minutes or so, it would flare up - police calls did not help, because it would be over by the time they'd get here. This went on until about 11PM, when there was a full-scale brawl in the parking lot - at least 15 people beating the living hell out of each other. Police called again, the crowd disperses like cockroaches into the street, into their respective rooms, or behind the building as the cops pull in.

Now the cops know it's going to flare up again, so 2 cruisers stay across the street and then pull in as the fighting starts.... which it does. 20 or so people now. When the cops all arrive in force, the fight is still going on and then it's a mad dash of people running from the cops. The main guy and girl (who were calling in "extra help" at every growing stage of this argument all day) are arrested as well as a few others, everyone else is told to leave the property and not come back. Just as the squad cars are leaving, a reservation pulls up. She comes in to check in, I'm just hoping she didn't see all the squad cards and crowds leaving. Had this been even a few minutes earlier, I would have canceled her reservation no-fault and found accommodations for her elsewhere, but I knew the fights were over at this point.

She said: "Hi, how are you today."

"I'm fantastic." Obviously, I was lying.

"Oh, that's great. I'd like to check in."

I checked her in and gave her the key, told her about the policies and gave her the WiFi code.

About 20 minutes passed and she came back. "Oh no, what is she going to complain about? What is it now? What fucking bullshit must I deal with this hour?!"

She said: "We're heading down to the [Mexican Restaurant] and we were wondering if you wanted anything."

"Oh -" trying to recover "thank you so much for the offer. I'm good, thanks."

"Cool, stay fantastic!"

She left and the door closed behind her. I burst into tears like a little bitch... I was so close to a full-scale mental breakdown and I could feel in that moment that I just avoided it. It even gave me the energy to write this out and stay awake until the end of my shift.

So thank you, JM - you saved me from myself and everyone else today. I wish I could bring myself to tell you in person... In the off-chance you use Imgur, please "stay fantastic!"

You read all that? Wow, you must be - like - really handsome, or something. I hope you've enjoyed my work stories, I've enjoyed writing them. I do desperately want out of the industry and I have applications in for a few jobs I'm qualified for and some that I really want. Hoping for good news in the coming months.

I did obtain my Bachelor's degree in December, which is great - graduated with honors. Graduate school is already started and it is truly one of the hardest things I've ever done. Thank you for being here for me, Imgur - I love almost all of you, almost unconditionally.