Well, this is my very first entry in my very first Journal that I'm actually determined to keep up with this time 3nodding Usually it's laziness that keeps me from doing such things, but not this time 4laugh
So, first things first, let me explain exactly where I work; Dover Downs is a hotel and casino set in the heart of Dover, Delware, which is a small state in the United States. We are surrounded on all sides, with Maryland and Virginia to our west, and the Atlantic Ocean to the east. We're situated on a peninsula, and are about two to three hours away from Baltimore, Annapolis, Ocean City, New York City and Atlantic City. So yeah, all the cool stuf is around us.
Anyway, this hotel, and the state itself, are made famous only by the official Nascar track that is connected to it as well, and it attracts thousands of Nascar fans (which means a bunch of drunk, mostly over-weight and mottly sort of people that trash the entire city in a matter of three days and then pick up and leave without bothering to clean up after themselve stare But I'll cover that later). But, yeah, because of the track and the revenue it brings in, as well as the casino (and this is no lie) Delware has no sales tax. Therefore, we also get people from the surrounding states who come here to shop as well.
So, this hotel is a four-star (or as the new rating goes, 'Diamond') hotel, but this, my friends, is only gotten by comparing it to all the other hotels in the state, because I assure you, friends, it is hardly the Ritz. On the outside, it appears to be a massive, ten-story giant, with shining lights creating a glow on the walls, and with fancy pillars and the like around the valet area, and a large and lovely lobby with marble floors, a glass rotunda and chandelier, and a grand staircase located just beside the warm and inviting Lobby Bar. But sadly, this is all but a simple pretense. Beneath this luxurious exterior, beats the heart of a vile and wretched underworld of under-paid, over-worked employees, managers who couldn't care less, customers that make it a point to steal just about anything not nailed down in the rooms, and perhaps some of the rudest people you will ever meet.
I'll start off and make this first little anecdote simple:
I work over-night, from 10 in the evening, to usually 8 in the morning. It's a dismal shift, but I usually get to watch movies, read, or play my DS or PSP during that time. Depending on the season, naturally, effects how busy we are, but, usually, by the end of September, things quiet down, then pick up for Christmas, and then it's dead from Christmas Eve until New Years. Blockbuster has become my favorite haunt, and I have finished nearly all of their older Thriller movies by now twisted I'm a sucker for atmosphere, and the long hallways on each floor stretch on for a while, like something out of The Shining.
So, for this first tale, I'll simply say that people think that we, the bell hops, are stupid. I'll tell you right now; scream WE'RE NOT! scream
Since house keeping closes down and goes home at midnight, it's my job to make any housekeeping requests until they re-open again at 8 a.m. You'd think that'd be simple; well, it would be if our house keeping staff was utterly incompetent.
I was sitting in my little luggage room, watching 'The Others', when I get a call from a guest on the fifth floor, saying that their sheets hadn't been changed. Normally, one would expect me to be upset and appalled, but I wasn't. This sort of thing was normal, and I knew what was coming; they would be expecting ME a bell hop, to change their sheets.
I tell you, there is nothing more humiliating then having to change someone's bed sheets while he and his hooker (and yes, we provide that service too, though, we shouldn't say we do talk2hand ) watch you change it, not bothering to offer to help. So, while I was up there, changing their, get this, blood-flecked sheets, I thought to myself, 'Self, surely these people will understand that this isn't YOUR fault that their sheets are dirty, and perhaps be kind enough to give you SOMETHING for all this trouble, since you are very well not trained in how to properly lay out a duvet'. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Without a single thank you, they practically shoved me out the door, and then got back to 'business'.
And so, with a curt nod, I went back downstairs, and, using my untraceable cell phone, proceeded to call them every hour, on the hour, asking, every time, if this was the Deli (there's one in the Casino side), and if I could have a large pork sandwich (though, sometimes, I switched it up to soups, salads and pizza).
The moral of the story, boys and girls?
scream Don't piss me off when I'm in the middle of a movie! scream
Tune in next time, when I discuss what happens when an older gentleman decides to give me lip for my not being able to understand the gibberish I would guess he calls 'English'
iLord Hades Community Member 
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