SHENANIGANS

In the hospitality business, there is a wide array of diversity within our guests. Such as, regular average Tom’s, extremely unconstrained Dick’s and awkwardly introverted Harry’s.



My husband and I manage a Mom & Pop motel in a small town in Texas. Regardless of the sort of establishment, the people we have as guests are the same throughout the industry. Despite the varying degrees in types of people, there are, in fact, only two types of hotel guests. Those who keep their business to themselves and those who do not.

Today, our sweet little motel encountered both types of guests. It was the sort of occurrence that you’ll never forget, but at the same time, it left you wondering what in the hell just happened.



First, I must let you in on a little secret that only hospitality workers are privy to. Staying at a motel/hotel and committing a crime, have one thing in common. Whether you simply showered and slept, or you let your freak flag fly, you always leave evidence of your actions behind. For instance, if you’re at a motel just to get your groove on and are doing something, shall we say, quirky, while said groove thing is getting on; when you check out, we will have a pretty good idea of what type of shenanigans the walls in the room have witnessed.



Much like a criminal investigation, there are two types of suspects. Those who confess and those who do not. Confessors don’t have a care in the world who knows what dirty deeds they’ve been doing and on occasion are quite proud of their monkey business. The non-confessors believe no one, other than the persons involved, will ever know any antics had taken place. Be that as it may, the evidence usually leads to a confirmed suspicion that there was indeed some hanky panky going on.



About 11:30 this morning, I knocked on the door of a guest who was late for checkout and asked if they would be staying another night. He said, “We overslept, we’ll be out of here asap.” I told him no need to rush too fast, as we had several rooms to clean and we didn’t need the room right away. I bid them a good day and left. I’ll get back to this…



As our day moved along, a guy walked into the office to rent a room and boldly said, “You can give me a discount if you want, I’ll only be here for a couple of hours.” My standard response to the mention of ‘hourly rate’ is, “No matter if you’re here for 15 minutes or until check out time, the price is the same,” he looked down, nodded his head, smiled and said, “Yes ma’am.” He rented the room and was out the door. My Spidey sense was telling me he’s done this before.



Heather, our housekeeper, had just started cleaning the late check out room and within a few minutes, she walked into our apartment shaking her head and carrying what looked like two large paint stir sticks taped together with electrical tape, top to bottom, with a bit more cushion on one of the ends. She found this as well as two other unimportant items under the bed and food crumbs all over the floor. The box spring cover had come off the bed in a manner that suggested the mattress had been moved off the frame. Oddly, the top of the bed was the only place in the entire room that showed no evidence of their suspected kinky naughtiness. Of course, Heather, Craig and I each had our own theories about what may have taken place, but the most puzzling element was, why paint sticks???



Moving on to the Hourly Discount Guy…



Upon check-in, the intended purpose for his stay was obvious to us; but it was the deafening, indescribably odd sounds emanating from the room that made their freaky shenanigans public knowledge.



And just like his time spent at the motel, his part of this story is brief. With a swagger in his step and a grin on his face, he walked into the office, smacked the key down on the counter, and said, “Here’s my key…I’m done!”



There was only one thing to say… “Thank you, come again!”