First off, a quick note on my book: I'm in the final stretch of revisions! Out of 35 chapters, I've powered through 31. It’s been a serious, sometimes exhausting, learning process and honestly, if you’ve self-published your first book, you have my complete admiration. Now it’s just a matter of those last few chapters and then one final, meticulous read-through to make sure the timeline is perfect before it heads off to the editor and then publisher. I'm so excited to get this first book in my series out to you soon!
Funny enough, today’s topic was inspired by a sick day. I woke up this morning not feeling well and had to call out, even though I really can’t afford the time off right now. As I was laying in bed—totally bored, as you can imagine—my mind started wandering back to some of the wildest times in my life and one particular incident from my hotel days flashed into my mind. I worked at a Ramada Plaza in College Park, and let me tell you, that place was a whole world of its own. It's no secret the hotel was, well, not a nice hotel. The super cheap rates meant we attracted a lot of less-than-exemplary people: addicts, transients, hookers and others. We staff—especially at the front desk—had to deal with some seriously weird situations, and while we tried to keep calm, sometimes you just had to refuse service and cut your losses. The owner would claim our safety was a priority, but the reality was that, apart from housekeeping during the day and security arriving at 8 PM, the front desk person was often completely on their own, especially at night.
It’s been years, but I’ll never forget the day a man came in, dropped his Bible on the counter with a loud thud, and became the central character in a story I still can’t quite believe happened.
It was a Friday afternoon, and the moment I made eye contact with this Nigerian man, I just knew he was going to be a problem. When you’ve worked a front desk as long as I did, you can spot trouble before it even hits the automatic door.
He had a very thick accent and simply announced, “I am a man of god and I need to get a room.”
I gave him the standard room rates and his immediate reply was just a repeat: “I am a man of god.” Then he started quoting scripture, seemingly about giving away accommodations for free. I explained that while I could maybe offer a system discount (like an AA discount or something similar), I absolutely couldn’t just give a room away.
That’s when he started to get irate. Things really escalated when I mentioned the mandatory $150 security deposit in addition to the room rate, anyone who has ever checked into a hotel would know this as a hold for incidentals. He literally grabbed his chest, acted like he was having an attack and spat at me across the counter. That was it. I told him he had to leave, walked to the back, and just let him scream and call me every name under the sun until he finally left, realizing I wasn't going to engage further.
The next day, I was back on the same shift. I could have sworn I saw him leaving at the front door, but in a place like the Ramada, everyone looked like everyone else from behind. The next day, however, I was on the morning shift, tasked with getting all the departing guests out by check-out time. I had one person left who wasn't answering the phone, so I sent housekeeping to knock.
Not only did he refuse to leave, but he started screaming at the poor housekeeper for "invading his privacy." When he called down to the front desk to yell at me, I instantly recognized the voice.
Turns out, someone had checked him in—but they hadn't charged him but a quarter of the lowest Priceline rate and there was no security deposit on file. He was simply going to check out when he "felt like it." That’s when I knew I had to call the police to have him removed.
Before the police arrived, he came downstairs, bible in one hand, grabbing his chest with the other and started yelling at me again. He put on a full performance, claiming to be having a heart attack and suddenly starting to cry when he saw the police coming through the front door, insisting I was causing him "distress." When the police arrived and called the paramedics, his theatrics went into overdrive. Still clutching the bible, he kept telling the paramedics that I was the devil and was causing all his problems.
The police, thankfully, got the full story about the refusal-to-check-in the day before last, the weirdly low room rate and his refusal to leave. When the paramedics checked his vitals, they confirmed he was fine, asking if he wanted to go to the hospital. He said, "No, I want to go back to my room," which is when the police informed him he hadn’t paid for his room. He then claimed he was just waiting for "that lady to come back to extend the room."
I had to call the owner, who told me to call "Dulce," the manager. Dulce had no idea what was going on, so she told me to have the police remove him and leave the check-in info on her desk.
I was off for the next two days, but I watched our group chat explode with messages from Dulce which included a corporate complaint screenshot from Wyndham about me, the state of the hotel and a photo of his ID, which came with a strict note: never to rent a room to him again. Oh, and the final, disgusting detail? Feces was also found under a towel in the bathroom.
I had been telling the owner and manager for ages that things weren't adding up—people were getting rooms for weird rates, deposits were being skipped—but they always brushed it off until this incident blew up. Even then, they acted like I could have "handled things better." I still think the better solution would have been to hold the person who checked him in accountable for breaking protocol and, frankly, running a hotel that wasn't a complete dump catering to sketchy people. I have so many more stories from that place, including people who ended up being arrested and on YouTube videos in other locations!
Anyway, I am so glad I’m not working there anymore and am in a much better place years later.
What's the wildest, most unbelievable customer service story you've ever experienced or heard? Drop your comments below—I need to know I'm not the only one with these kinds of tales!
