Disturbances
I've responded to a record number of disturbance calls this weekend. A lot of that is based on the fact that I responded to my first disturbance call this weekend. Lets start with Saturday's series of calls, and allow me to point out that the racial slurs are only included because I'm quoting people. It goes something like this.
1:30ish a.m. The phone rings.
MX: Bellevue Homestead
Guest 1: Hey this is - in room - and there's some crack head looking guy wandering around outside. I think he's Mexican, he's got a red hat on.
The voice on the other end of the line is a timid sounding woman. She speaks hesitantly at all times.
MX: What has he been doing?
Guest 1: He's been knocking on peoples doors asking for cokes.
MX: Okay I'll look into it.
It was at this point that I began forming what is now my standard procedure for calls like this. I take all of my valuables out of my pockets, and stash them in my backpack. I grab the phone, my master key, and some form of weaponry. While I don't intend for these things to come to violence I'm not going to go unprepared, and I've heard from people with actual experience that having any metal object can be a significant factor in an impromptu melee. This time it was a fork.
Heading out and around I find the guy sitting on a bench both smoking and drinking. I confront him but it doesn't do any good because he doesn't speak English. Through tone and body language I convey that I'm an Authority Figure and that I'm mad. He gets his wife who I guess speaks slightly more English, but is still unable to communicate with me. Reading his body language he seems subdued, and so I eventually leave.
1:50ish a.m. The phone rings again.
MX: Bellevue Homestead
Guest 2: Hey there's some spic crackhead that keeps knocking on my door.
From the voice I can tell this is a fairly standard young man. I'd guess early 20s.
MX: Damn it again? Okay I'll go deal with him. Where is he this time?
Guest 2: He's outside my room, I'm in -
I go through the motions again and when I get there we waste another fifteen minutes ramming into the language barrier. I can see the guy who called watching through his window, so after I've registered adequately submissive body language from the Hispanic guy I go to the callers room. I explain to him that I can't really do much because of the language barrier, but if this keeps happening I'll call the cops. We talk back and forth, it turns out I know this guy from VMC. My NDA doesn't allow me to tell you more then that, but I've seen him around. I serve as an escort while the guest goes to the vending machines, and we end off the conversation with my agreement that if the guest has to beat up the crackhead I'll deny all knowledge and not summon the authorities.
It wasn't a really dramatic experience, but it was the first and so it laid my ground rules. Always go armed, command presence, and on the third act summon the police. The more recent one, the one that wrapped up only an hour ago, is a much more interesting story.
The first thing you need to know is that for some reason the person I take over for, the one who had the day shift before my night shift, tends to have the morning shift the next day. This usually means that I come in and whoever was here goes into an unoccupied room and sleeps for a bit. When I came in tonight and replaced someone we'll call J, he said that he was going to the bar in factoria for a while, and would then do the crashing in a nearby room thing. It seemed fine.
At 2:45ish I get a call about someone making too much noise, and while arming myself I get another from a nearby room complaining about the same person. I don't have a fork but I grab two steak knives, and head out. Long story short it's J. He's drunk, which is a depressingly common occurrence in my co-workers, and another story altogether, and he's with a bunch of friends in some room. I'm shot by how similar the whole scene was to my college dorm room. A bunch of early 20s kids hanging around in the middle of the night playing music and letting the sweet sting of ethanol wash away their conscious. The only real difference here is that there wasn't a dark introvert in the corner doing one of any number of things that make him detached from ambient reality.
I talk it out with J, omitting the use of command presence, he seems to essentially get the point and calms down, I head off to continue folding things. At around 3 I get an odd call. There are people who want to talk to me in the lobby, but they don't really say why. Drunk guests are something I'm used to, and unlike drunk co-workers, something I don't have any problem with. It's after midnight on the weekend, why not be drunk? I figure these people have lost their key or something but are suffering from a temporary inebriation based aphasia.
It turns out their concerns also go back to J. They were talking to him in the bar, and from what I know of J and what they've related of the things he said, J was talking a lot of shit. Bragging about things that aren't true, bragging about things that are semi-true but not necessarily good, and just generally being an arrogant jerk. However, he also told them they could stay until three today, and he wouldn't charge them for the extra time. Normal check out is at 11:30, so staying until 3 would normally be an extra day. I find all this out by talking to them in the way I've learned to talk to all friendly drunk people. As long as you're willing to be patient and not be a prick you'll get along find. You'll also have to spend twice as much time talking to them to get any useful information, but it's really not all that tricky. Another ten minutes of this strange dialect and I come to understand the nature of the problem, and why they called me here in the first place. J apparently claimed he was in Iraq, but when the male of the couple who I was talking to pulled out his US Army registration card and asked J for some details, J got mad and left. Something like that anyway. The full details of the encounter were lost to the drunken dialect, but J performed one of bar etiquette's most direct statements of rage. Namely walking out of a bar when he still had a full pitcher and a full glass. The point of our whole conversation is that they were now relying on being in the room until 3, and thought J might take some kind of petty vengeance. Not an unreasonable concern. I pulled a little trickery with the computers and arranged for them to have technically checked but for their room to be off limits until Monday, cementing their arrangement and granting them immunity to any backlash. After doing that, and spending twenty minutes explaining to them what I did and that they would be fine, they offered up profuse thanks and left. I once again returned to my den of linens and spinning things to fold stuff.
3:15ish the phone rings. Noise complaint from the same general area. At this point I would have called the cops if I was following my standard procedure, but I give him some leeway because he's not really a threat, more of an annoyance, and because if he gets arrested who's going to replace me at seven? I head out and it's J, again. While I don't like having to deal with something I've already dealt with thrice tonight it gives me a chance to try out a trick for making drunk people quiet. If you talk to them in a voice just barely softer then normal indoor volume they'll tend to bring their voice down too. I think the contrast embarrasses them into behavior. Anyway I talk him down and he gradually gets the point, but it's hard to keep drunk people quiet and on topic. J's really not a bad guy but at this point he's clearly become an issue and I'm in a weird position. If this were some unknown guest I could bully them down, and if that didn't work I could have them hauled off for drunk and disorderly. I wouldn't feel good about it, but I wouldn't feel that bad either. But I work with this guy. I know him, he's not a bad kid, and I know he doesn't have any malicious intent, but he's causing problems in the hotel, and one of the many things I'm supposed to do is keep order.
I haven't heard anything recently so I assume he's down, but if I have to do this a fourth time I'm going to make it clear that it's the last time I'll be coming out, and the fifth time I'll call the cops, then call my boss and get someone else to come in at seven.
1:30ish a.m. The phone rings.
MX: Bellevue Homestead
Guest 1: Hey this is - in room - and there's some crack head looking guy wandering around outside. I think he's Mexican, he's got a red hat on.
The voice on the other end of the line is a timid sounding woman. She speaks hesitantly at all times.
MX: What has he been doing?
Guest 1: He's been knocking on peoples doors asking for cokes.
MX: Okay I'll look into it.
It was at this point that I began forming what is now my standard procedure for calls like this. I take all of my valuables out of my pockets, and stash them in my backpack. I grab the phone, my master key, and some form of weaponry. While I don't intend for these things to come to violence I'm not going to go unprepared, and I've heard from people with actual experience that having any metal object can be a significant factor in an impromptu melee. This time it was a fork.
Heading out and around I find the guy sitting on a bench both smoking and drinking. I confront him but it doesn't do any good because he doesn't speak English. Through tone and body language I convey that I'm an Authority Figure and that I'm mad. He gets his wife who I guess speaks slightly more English, but is still unable to communicate with me. Reading his body language he seems subdued, and so I eventually leave.
1:50ish a.m. The phone rings again.
MX: Bellevue Homestead
Guest 2: Hey there's some spic crackhead that keeps knocking on my door.
From the voice I can tell this is a fairly standard young man. I'd guess early 20s.
MX: Damn it again? Okay I'll go deal with him. Where is he this time?
Guest 2: He's outside my room, I'm in -
I go through the motions again and when I get there we waste another fifteen minutes ramming into the language barrier. I can see the guy who called watching through his window, so after I've registered adequately submissive body language from the Hispanic guy I go to the callers room. I explain to him that I can't really do much because of the language barrier, but if this keeps happening I'll call the cops. We talk back and forth, it turns out I know this guy from VMC. My NDA doesn't allow me to tell you more then that, but I've seen him around. I serve as an escort while the guest goes to the vending machines, and we end off the conversation with my agreement that if the guest has to beat up the crackhead I'll deny all knowledge and not summon the authorities.
It wasn't a really dramatic experience, but it was the first and so it laid my ground rules. Always go armed, command presence, and on the third act summon the police. The more recent one, the one that wrapped up only an hour ago, is a much more interesting story.
The first thing you need to know is that for some reason the person I take over for, the one who had the day shift before my night shift, tends to have the morning shift the next day. This usually means that I come in and whoever was here goes into an unoccupied room and sleeps for a bit. When I came in tonight and replaced someone we'll call J, he said that he was going to the bar in factoria for a while, and would then do the crashing in a nearby room thing. It seemed fine.
At 2:45ish I get a call about someone making too much noise, and while arming myself I get another from a nearby room complaining about the same person. I don't have a fork but I grab two steak knives, and head out. Long story short it's J. He's drunk, which is a depressingly common occurrence in my co-workers, and another story altogether, and he's with a bunch of friends in some room. I'm shot by how similar the whole scene was to my college dorm room. A bunch of early 20s kids hanging around in the middle of the night playing music and letting the sweet sting of ethanol wash away their conscious. The only real difference here is that there wasn't a dark introvert in the corner doing one of any number of things that make him detached from ambient reality.
I talk it out with J, omitting the use of command presence, he seems to essentially get the point and calms down, I head off to continue folding things. At around 3 I get an odd call. There are people who want to talk to me in the lobby, but they don't really say why. Drunk guests are something I'm used to, and unlike drunk co-workers, something I don't have any problem with. It's after midnight on the weekend, why not be drunk? I figure these people have lost their key or something but are suffering from a temporary inebriation based aphasia.
It turns out their concerns also go back to J. They were talking to him in the bar, and from what I know of J and what they've related of the things he said, J was talking a lot of shit. Bragging about things that aren't true, bragging about things that are semi-true but not necessarily good, and just generally being an arrogant jerk. However, he also told them they could stay until three today, and he wouldn't charge them for the extra time. Normal check out is at 11:30, so staying until 3 would normally be an extra day. I find all this out by talking to them in the way I've learned to talk to all friendly drunk people. As long as you're willing to be patient and not be a prick you'll get along find. You'll also have to spend twice as much time talking to them to get any useful information, but it's really not all that tricky. Another ten minutes of this strange dialect and I come to understand the nature of the problem, and why they called me here in the first place. J apparently claimed he was in Iraq, but when the male of the couple who I was talking to pulled out his US Army registration card and asked J for some details, J got mad and left. Something like that anyway. The full details of the encounter were lost to the drunken dialect, but J performed one of bar etiquette's most direct statements of rage. Namely walking out of a bar when he still had a full pitcher and a full glass. The point of our whole conversation is that they were now relying on being in the room until 3, and thought J might take some kind of petty vengeance. Not an unreasonable concern. I pulled a little trickery with the computers and arranged for them to have technically checked but for their room to be off limits until Monday, cementing their arrangement and granting them immunity to any backlash. After doing that, and spending twenty minutes explaining to them what I did and that they would be fine, they offered up profuse thanks and left. I once again returned to my den of linens and spinning things to fold stuff.
3:15ish the phone rings. Noise complaint from the same general area. At this point I would have called the cops if I was following my standard procedure, but I give him some leeway because he's not really a threat, more of an annoyance, and because if he gets arrested who's going to replace me at seven? I head out and it's J, again. While I don't like having to deal with something I've already dealt with thrice tonight it gives me a chance to try out a trick for making drunk people quiet. If you talk to them in a voice just barely softer then normal indoor volume they'll tend to bring their voice down too. I think the contrast embarrasses them into behavior. Anyway I talk him down and he gradually gets the point, but it's hard to keep drunk people quiet and on topic. J's really not a bad guy but at this point he's clearly become an issue and I'm in a weird position. If this were some unknown guest I could bully them down, and if that didn't work I could have them hauled off for drunk and disorderly. I wouldn't feel good about it, but I wouldn't feel that bad either. But I work with this guy. I know him, he's not a bad kid, and I know he doesn't have any malicious intent, but he's causing problems in the hotel, and one of the many things I'm supposed to do is keep order.
I haven't heard anything recently so I assume he's down, but if I have to do this a fourth time I'm going to make it clear that it's the last time I'll be coming out, and the fifth time I'll call the cops, then call my boss and get someone else to come in at seven.
posted by Max at 3:25 AM
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