Chip Brown says:
I worked as a bellboy at a hotel one summer in college. My job was basically to deliver extra towels and soap to the guest rooms and transport people to and from the airport. On three occasions I had to deal with a clogged shitter.The first time, I got a radio call to go to a room in the new wing of the hotel. I arrived at the guest's room with shit stick in hand. I wasn't exactly sure of the protocol... do I enter the room and take care of the clog? Do I simply hand the shit stick to the guest and patiently wait from he/she to unclog their own mess and then return the shit stick to me (hopefully fully rinsed)? This was defintiely not covered in the employee manual!
The problem solved itself because the room was occupied by an appraently Shameful Shitter who conveniently left the room. I used my master key and went on in. I found a huge Little League-style baseball bat of shit sticking out of the toilet. I was forced to use the shit stick to break up the mass and discovered that it was full of corn kernels! I was then able to successfully plunge this bastard down. Now I was stuck with a shit-crusted plunger that I meagerly rinsed in the toilet water. Bad skid marks all around. But hey, that's the maid's job.
The next incident occured on a Sunday morning as I got a call from a housekeeper. I responded to her call (again in the new wing with the low flow toilets) and she pointed me to the lav. The tension built as we both stared at one another. Who was going to do the deed? It then broke into a verbal arguement as I made the case that her job was to clean the rooms -- my job was to distribute vital guest supplies and services. I worked primarily for tips so if the guest wasn't there to "compensate" me, no deal. Finally she relented and plunged the shit.
The third and final incident also occurred in the new wing of the hotel. This time the offending guest answered the door as I arrived (no doubt a Shameless Shitter). Since I'd had a good weekend with tippers, I was not about to make an effort to go above and beyond the call of duty for a seasonally employed bellboy. I took a position of power and handed the magic wand to the middle-aged businessman. Without flinching he grabbed the baton, disappeared into his room and emerged moments later wielding the plunger and a couple of bucks for my troubles.
Dakota says:
Hey Chip, those are great stories. I guess if you had done the job yourself in the last case you might have made more than two bucks as a tip!I've never actually worked in a hotel or motel. The small town near where I was raised had only one motel. When I was about 15, however, I used to hang out with an older cousin who was a sort of apprentice handyman at the motel. On a few occasions, I accompanied him on his rounds to rooms where there were problems. A clogged crapper seemed to be a particularly common problem. Often chicks had thrown a lot of Kleenex or even tampons into the crapper causing the clogs.
Usually, no one was there when we did the rounds and my cousin just unclogged the crappers while I watched. I remember one case, however, to this day. We knocked on the door and this young dude comes to the door, naked except for a towel around his waist. I could see an attractive chick lying on the bed further in without much clothes on. I guess they might have been a honeymoon couple.
Anyway, this guy shows my cousin the bathroom. The crapper had overflowed and the floor was all wet and messy and the bowl was full of turds. This dude was completely Shameless, however -- he explained how he had taken "a real big dump" (as if we couldn't see it) and then this had happened. He even seemed proud of his accomplishment, but didn't offer to help with the plunger.
My cousin unclogged the bowl with some effort and we then mopped the floor, but the bastard didn't give my cousin one fucking cent. My cousin went away cussing under his breath. I suppose that dude was a proud and Shameless Shitter, but a real skinflint as well.