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Nov. 11th, 2001 10:06 amWork last night was the craziest I have ever seen. The phones never stopped ringing. But there was one bright spot.
The concierge at the Palace Hotel is a jerk named Blaine. This guy has a stick up his butt so high the end has toothpaste on it. He is snottty, condescending, and seems to think that our vans have magic pixie wings that allow them to bypass gridlocked traffic.
Last night, he was raining all over us because our van was *gasp* five minutes late! (never mind that I told him that there was heavy traffic all through downtown.
We finally get the guests onboard. And find out that Mr. Perfect hadn't given the guests their pre-paid coupons. We found this out at the Oakland Airport. So *we* get to call him for once. Alas, I didn't get to make the call myself, but the manager was almost dying of laughter when she hung up the phone.
Ten hours to go. Tomorrow I get some damn writing done!
The concierge at the Palace Hotel is a jerk named Blaine. This guy has a stick up his butt so high the end has toothpaste on it. He is snottty, condescending, and seems to think that our vans have magic pixie wings that allow them to bypass gridlocked traffic.
Last night, he was raining all over us because our van was *gasp* five minutes late! (never mind that I told him that there was heavy traffic all through downtown.
We finally get the guests onboard. And find out that Mr. Perfect hadn't given the guests their pre-paid coupons. We found this out at the Oakland Airport. So *we* get to call him for once. Alas, I didn't get to make the call myself, but the manager was almost dying of laughter when she hung up the phone.
Ten hours to go. Tomorrow I get some damn writing done!
