Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Swede-boy, The Ghost and stuff

Little pervert, the Swede-boy, is still looking for work. He thinks someone (please god, anyone) will hire him because he's better spoken than most little Swedish perverts his age. I relish his interviews. He’ll sit across from someone like me who looks for more than good grammar. It takes ten minutes to figure out he is frightened and covers it with aggression. He is vain, over estimates his worth, and considers that the Swedish secondary education system is the same as University. I’m telling you it’s not. It’s not even close.

He fails in every respect. I can't speak for his Swedish grammar, but his English grammar is marginal at best. However, an employer looks for other factors including demeanor. I see McDonalds in his future - IF they get desperate.

We were short handed last night, and I filled in at the front desk. It was late and there was little activity until I got a call from room 214. Room 214 faces away from the front. It's also away from the main road and quiet. A couple checked in on Saturday last, and is staying through Sunday. They're very nice and easy to please. I expected a room service request, but in a slightly whispered and slightly concerned voice the man says, "There's someone out in the parking lot behind the cars next to the fence. It sounds like their shooting a gun or something."

This is not good. I ask for a description. He can't see anyone, just hear them. Behind him I hear his wife. "Ask them if they have ghosts," she says, her voice high pitched and worried. "I think it's a ghost. I saw it flying."

"Oh, my loving Lord and little rabbits," I'm thinking. But what I say is, "I'll have security check it out right away. ..."

While I'm saying that, his wife is pushing her point about ghosts.

He says, "Ummm Can you tell me if anyone's ever seen a ghost here?"

There was that incident with room 512 up a few floors from them, but it wasn't really a ghost. A bad shut off valve in the toilet spooked two elderly women who promptly checked out because a 'ghost' was flushing their toilet over and over. Sigh. I just tell him no. We have no ghosts.

I get him off the phone and call security. Two of the guys go out. I so wanted to go too. This is the most excitement I've had all night! But I can't leave the desk even if it is one a.m.

About ten minutes later, one of the guys comes in with a octagonal bit of cardboard. We had fairly strong wind the night before and with a gentle breeze last night. When the breeze hit the cardboard it slapped it against the fence with a popping noise. Here was our combination flying ghost and gun shooter. ...

The couple watched the security officers pick up the cardboard and gave an embarrassed but relieved wave. All was well ... Such is life on the late night shift.

It was really dead last night. But Tuesdays and Wednesdays usually are slow.

Stuff. ... Yes, well, stuff is stuff. I re-read Johnny Termaine. I haven't read that in ages. I still enjoy that book. I also read an Andre Norton book. She really was odd, you know. Most of her books are about The White Man's Burden. Oh she doesn't call it that, but that's what it is. This one was tainted by her peculiar view of religious issues and fairies. She is always readable. I wonder what she'd write about now if she were still alive.

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