Friday, March 30, 2007

My Job Description, and My Job Reality

I've found that the job I signed up for is not the job I actually perform. My 'Job Description' is a somewhat limiting ideal, whereas the reality is a tacked on mess of additional jobs that weren't described to me at all.


Job Description

1) To cater to guests and non-residents in the bar and lounge area, providing both food, drink and table service up to the hour of 11pm, where service will cease for non-residents.


Job Reality

1) Serve drunken idiots up to 11pm, then argue with drunken idiots and expel a third of them.

2) Provide room service when the waiter assigned to room service has disappeared mysteriously.

3) Recite the wine list to guests over the phone, as reception cannot pronounce half of them.

(After 11pm)

4) Take over catering functions in the kitchen, providing simple food for guests.

5) Provide directions over the phone to guests travelling to the hotel, as the receptionists don't drive and have no sense of direction.

6) Take over maintenance functions throughout the hotel, as the maintenance man has left and most guests can't work out how to get the radiators/air conditioners/internet/toilets/showers to work.

7) Provide a 'carry-to-room' service for guests unable to find their way on their own.

8) Clean away any vomit left by guests on the steps of the hotel.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

My Stages of the Night

Strangely regular as it is, over the course of a night I will, as a standard, go through plottable stages. These stages can be summarised as follows:-


Stage 1

I've had a drink in the pub before I come in. I'm nicely relaxed and positively eager to hear all the boring tales that guests want to tell.


Stage 2

My buzz is wearing off. I'm still smiling at guests, but it's forced. I've begun to check my watch.


Stage 3

My buzz is completely gone. I've usually dealt with at least one annoying guest and I'm not smiling unless a guest is right in front of me. I'm checking my watch every 20 minutes.


Stage 4

I'm irritable. I'm hungry. I'm getting tired. I barely smile. Guests are getting increasingly drunk and my polite demeanor is fading fast. I'm checking my watch every 15 minutes.


Stage 5

I'm bored. I'm stressed. I'm starving. I've cleaned the bar in preparation for going home. I've started to gently despise all guests who remain in the bar. I'm checking my watch every 10 minutes.


Stage 6 (usually achieved only if guests remain in the bar past 3am)

I hate everyone. I'm gruff and have a slight scowl on my face when guests ask me for things, confident that they're so drunk they either won't notice, won't care, or won't remember. I've begun coming up with strange games to pass the time. I've already created a miniature version of myself, made out of corks and toothpicks. I've made some origami cranes and they're hidden under the bar, where only I can see, saluting me. I'm checking my watch every 3 minutes.


Stage 6 is usually the final stage. I've only achieved the rare 'Stage 7', when I was on shift for 15 hours.


Stage 7

I'm exhausted. I'm starting to see things that aren't there. The hotel is making strange noises at me. I can't quite remember what I've done and what I haven't. There are gaps in my memory. The morning day shift receptionists have come in, as well as the breakfast chefs. Their chirpy attitudes are freaking me out. I think they're trying to gang up on me. I'm going to die in this place.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

My Strange Requests

Below are some of the odd/idiotic things that guests have asked me to do for them. My surprise may explain my occasionally 'less-than-professional' replies.

Guest: So, I need to show you proof that I'm staying in the hotel before you'll serve me, and I can get this proof from reception?
Me: Yes, sir.
Guest: Can't you go get it for me?
Me: You want me to go to reception, prove I'm you, so I can get proof that you're staying in the hotel, so you can prove it to me?



Guest: So at this time, the kitchen's closed and I can only get cold sandwiches, yes?
Me: That's correct, sir.
Guest: Could you toast it for me?
Me: No, sir. A toastie is not a cold sandwich.
Guest: What about some chips?
Me: Sorry, sir, but that's not a cold sandwich either.
Guest: Oh, alright fine, I'll just have a pizza then.
Me: .....um..... No... You won't. How about a cold sandwich? Ham? Cheese?




Guest: If I order a room service from you, will you deliver it?
Me: At this time of the night, it is me who does the room service deliveries, yes.
Guest: So I can get you to come up to my room?
Me: ...Uh.... yes?
Guest: Wow! Don't worry, my husband won't mind.
Me: ....!



Guest: I'd like a bottle of your finest champagne and a woman.
Me: Excuse me?!
Guest: Just send her to Room 120 when you've got the champagne ready.
Me: Um, sir, the champagne I can do, the woman I don't think I can.
Guest: If it makes it easier, I don't care if she's got teeth or not.
Me: .......?!



I once watched a female co-worker have this discussion with a guest:

Guest: I'll give you £150 tip, if you like.
Her: No, sir, you don't need to tip me that much.
Guest: Okay, how about I give you £300 if you have a chat with me after you finish? No, wait! Double it! I'll give you £600 for a chat!
Her: But we're chatting now! It's free!

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

My Regular Annoyances

The following are common requests/statements from guests. As a one-off, you'd tolerate them. As a constant stream, they just get really irritating.


Requests:

1) To keep the bar open, even though you called last orders 30 minutes ago and they ignored you.

2) For a glass of wine, giving no details as to measure, type of grape, or even red/white.

3) For a glass of the wine they had yesterday, despite the fact that it wasn't you who served them.

4) For 20 or so drinks, all reeled off in a list, which they expect you to remember.

5) For a detailed explanation of all the drinks you serve so they can make up their mind, even though it's a very busy period and they've just been standing at the bar for 15 minutes.


Statements:

1) "Don't you know who I am?!" - When asked for proof that they're staying in the hotel.

2) "Don't you f*cking tell me what to do, you tw*t!" - When you've asked them to stop swearing in the bar (usually around 3pm when there are children present)

3) "You really enjoy this, don't you?! You're nothing but a jobsworth, you total nob!" - When you've refused to serve them for being drunk.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

My Mystery Guest Surprise

When you have Mystery Guests, you're slightly on edge. Your supervisor's inevitably near by, you're aware that everything you do is being noted down, and you're also vaguely aware of the fact that when everything has been noted down it's going to be given to your boss, and he may end up 'unhappy' with you. This may hopefully explain why I did what I did on a particular evening when Mystery Guests were staying with us...

We'd already identified who the Mystery Guests were, and they were sitting in the bar at a back table. I was already slightly stressed as they'd asked me for drinks that were out of stock, and I knew I'd lose a point for that right off the bat. Also in the bar was a large group of American businessmen, one of whom had spent the entire night complaining to me about our house wine selection, before selecting from the wine list a non-house red wine that I'd had to go down to the cellar for. They'd been in the bar since 6pm, and had been drinking whiskey non-stop.

Walking over to their table with the bottle of wine and four glasses, I was presented with a recurring problem; people sitting in large groups are almost always completely oblivious to their surroundings, focusing intently on themselves. This means that as a barman, I always end up looking somewhat foolish as I lean over to put drinks down, and have to lift my leg up to counter-balance and attempt to stop myself from falling over. I end up looking like a strange cross between a waiter and a ballet dancer. On this particular occasion, I didn't fall over. The bottle of wine did fall off my tray though.

Everything slowed down as I watched the bottle fall, land on the table, knock over a couple of drinks, hit the oil lamp, and then begin to decant itself onto the 'complaining' American. However, the slowly reddening jumper of the annoyed American was the least of my concerns. The far greater concern was the small fire on the table that had erupted after the oil lamp had spilled over.

Blowing the fire out and re-setting the table took relatively little time, and I took the American to reception and we sorted out his dry-cleaning expenses. I then re-poured drinks for the group and fetched another bottle of wine from the cellar. When I had finished, I glanced round just in time to see the back of the Mystery Guests as they left the bar and headed back to their room.

Strangely, I got 88% for that performance, and was apparantly friendly, knowledgeable, and... 'entertaining'.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Mystery Guest Alert

Mystery Guest Alert

As soon as one person utters it, it's on the lips of every staff member, and written on every notice board. It's like an airborne virus. One person detects it, and then it spreads. Within 20 minutes, managers you haven't seen for weeks appear and watch over you, surveying your area of responsibility. Some actually take over for you, gently ushering you into private staff areas where you can't be seen, and can in no way risk offending the mystery guests.

They can be detected by time of month (if you haven't had one and it's near the end of the month then chances are high), how they check in (usually couples for one night, and some actually hesitate when asked if they are staying for business or leisure), what drinks they have in the bar, and even what they ask the waitresses about at breakfast. If somehow they slip past reception the earliest warning is the bar, where we monitor what drinks people are having and attempt to seek out the Mystery Guest 'pattern'.

We are graded on certain drinks, and if a couple is hitting 2 out of 3, they are watched. The barman casually rings up to his supervisor to say he suspects an 'MG'. The supervisor hangs up without saying a word, and within minutes he's at your side. Suddenly the restaurant manager appears at bar and leaning over conspiratorially, enquires as to the whereabouts of the potential MG. Once the couple have left the bar and headed for the restaurant, the supervisor turns to you and asks how you think you did.

Once he's finished interrogating you he casually slips off, back to his office for an hour or so, returning just in time to be present for the second visit. The Mystery Guests may stay in the bar for 20 minutes, they may stay for 4 hours. Once they leave though, you can hear the hotel sigh. Every member of staff shrinks by about an inch, as they stop straining so hard to stand up straight. Their faces melt, as the forced smiles fall off them. Over the course of the night, that couple has been the focus of each and every employee. That night you go home exhausted; physically and mentally drained.

The next day, you find out from reception whether or not they were Mystery Guests. If they were, you're relieved. You have a rough idea based on your own experience as to whether you did well or not, and more importantly, you're not due another Mystery Guest for some time. If they weren't Mystery Guests, you're mildly annoyed. You worked harder than you had to, drained yourself, and didn't really achieve anything. The worst is when reception reports that "although the people in room 220 weren't Mystery Guests, the ones in 110 were."

Whoops.

Friday, March 23, 2007

My Night of Hell

My night of hell started when I decided that to be able to afford to stay in education, and maintain my alcohol problem, I would need a job.

My second mistake that night, was deciding that I didn't want to stack shelves or work on a checkout, as I've seen the zombies that do that job and they scare me.

My third mistake, was thinking that bar work would be entertaining, give me ample time to chat up drunk girls, and provide hours that I could work my education around.

My fourth and ultimately worst mistake, was applying for bar work at a hotel.

Personally, I quite like hotels. I like that all the food is cooked for you. I like that the room gets cleaned for you. I like that they have a 24 hour bar (the 'good' ones anyway). I like that everyone's really polite to me. I like that I can get a sandwich at any time of the night.

I do not however, like being on the other side of the hotel. Dealing with chefs who are rude and treat serving staff like dirt. Explaining to a guest that we're moving them to a different room because the housekeeping staff are too stupid to realise that the previous occupant wet the bed (they're also foreign so can't understand when you try and tell them). Being polite to a guest no matter how rude they're being to me. Making five sandwiches at 4am because after 11pm, the only staff in the hotel are myself and the night manager, and he's having a coffee.

The most tedious aspect of working in a hotel bar, in comparison to a regular bar, has to be mystery guests. I can be rude to normal guests after a certain hour because, I don't care. Chances are they're being rude to me, and unless I do something exceptional, the night manager will take my side. The reason for this is that after a certain hour, the guests are drunk, there are only two staff left working in the hotel, and we don't need the hassle. I cannot do this with mystery guests.

Mystery guests take notes on everything. They're given checklists which cover how I served them, my attitude towards them, my appearance, my professionalism, my product knowledge. Whilst the night manager may be on a poor salary, and worked ungodly hours for so long he's become a bitter shell of a human being, the operations and general manager work 9-5, and they're the ones who are given the mystery guest report.

When mystery guests are in the hotel every member of staff works twice as hard, because if we don't, the respective line manager will lay into us for the rest of the week. I get home at 2am, tired, stressed, hungry, and in no mood to talk to anyone for at least a week. The act of being polite for 8 hours straight is the hardest of all.

Then I wake up at 8am to go to university.

Mystery Guests, I hate you.