The Innkeeper: A Coin for thy Thoughts

I'm the proverbial "Innkeeper". I'm the wench with the wild hair who takes a gold coin from dusty travelers on sweaty horses so they can spend the night on a straw matt at the back of the tavern. (At least this is one way to look at it.)

#1...I need four, at least *4*, basic pieces of information to create a reservation or check you in:  your name, your street address, your zip code, and your telephone number. (I also need your credit card, but that's another issue, another page on the computer.)  Telling me, "I've stayed here before, you should have this information", is not one of these four pieces of necessities which I need.  You are not as memorable as you seem to think you are, and arguing with me over the fact that I should remember you takes much longer than just giving me the requested information, as would diving into the bowels of the computer to retrieve this data. I've probably checked in hundreds of people since your last visit, and my brain is not wasting its limited space and functionality on automatic recall of information that is not pertinent to my life. 

#2...Don't get angry at me when your credit card is declined-- I haven't been using it.  It's not my fault that you are low on funds.  I also cannot give you a room until you either a) give me another credit card to an account that carries enough money to pay for your purchase, or b) give me cash.  I'm selling hotel rooms, if you don't pay for one, you don't get one.

#3...Male guests:  Female employees of a hotel are hired to check you into the hotel, to make your reservation, and to make sure you're comfortable and the hotel is secure.  Female employees of a hotel are not hired to be your verbal punching bag.  Although it's not emphasized publicly, in most hotels, mine included, female employees will be justified in telling you to take a hike if you become abusive and obnoxious.

I had a gentleman come in the other night, give me his name, and stand there smiling expectantly. I say, "Yes? Do you have a reservation?" He says, "No", still smiling. I say, "You need a room?" He says, "Well, L. (former employee) usually just has it ready for me." -- You Have Got To Be Kidding.  I say, with a sweet smile on my face, "Well, I'm not L."  (I'm actually thinking: fucktard.)  He seemed a little let down when we had to go through the usual process.

Four words a hotel desk clerk dreads most:  "We need a plunger."

Just a note:  For most people, stamping your feet and throwing a hissy fit to get what you wanted when you were a kid didn't work. It still doesn't.  And for that special few who managed to pull this crap off successfully then...that was then, this is now.