I manage a hotel which is really a 24/7 job. When I get to sleep past 6 hours I count my self lucky. Next morning I want to hand everyone their heads. Here's where the stress factor comes in. When your mind over rides your body's overwhelming urge to choke the living s**t of some one that deserves it.
That's when some low brow, knuckle dragger comes in with less sense than God gave an ice cube and wants to pretend he's Monty Hall of Let's make a deal fame. (My prices are carved in stone except for active duty service men and women.) They want to rent a room for a booty call and want to know my hourly rate. I tell them that's illegal and they have to pay a days rate. I quote them the cost and you'd swear you bitch slapped them. It's all I can do to keep from busting out laughing. The look on their face is worth the lost revenue. But some want to keep hammering me. After listening to their shuck and jive story I just give them my infamous go to hell look and they just stop talking. That whole ordeal just wasted 20 minutes.
But the ones that really make me want to pole vault over the counter and throw them out the door (with out bothering to open it) are the pimp daddy's that come in driving brand new cars, dripping gold jewelry and want you to rent them a room for 30 bucks. S**t folks I don't even break even on the room cost for that little. And they keep hammering you. Now these are not little skinny matchsticks. More like corn fed Iowa farm boys. They get to the door and want to play the race card. That's when the ball bat comes out and I tell them, I'm an equal opportunity asshole. I hate everybody.
Some days goes so smoothly while others go so badly. You hear your bed calling you but you have to shut it out in order to get all your paperwork done. Just for once I'd love to crawl in my nice comfy California super king bed and sleep 12 straight hours. Maybe more. But alas if I think of that for one second the next day is a cascading disaster.
I need a vacation...