MORE suspicious minds, and teentards

Today I got given the most beautiful flowers I've received in recent times. Something of a surprise as they came from a couple of girls staying at work. Was slightly miffed as really had done nothing extraordinarily amazing for them (apart from cracking up laughing when they asked where the Louis Vitton store was in Hobart... we're one step up from a country town... Louis Vitton does not live here).

Felt kinda guilty for having the discussion of 'where do these girls get their cash from.'

Having asked for (and received unblinkingly) $500 cash from one that we'll call LilKitty. Most 25 year olds, hell, most people I know would blink, or at least have to get money out of the hole in the wall to dish out that amount of cash when it's not expected to have to be paid out.


The two most popular theories were either Paris Hilton style trust fund babies, or they remembered to charge people for the favours.

Then came a twist... CareBear (the Duty Manager) thought that maybe, although they currently appear to be girls.... they may have started life as males... LilKitty does have quite a deep voice... a very squared off jaw (neither unforgivable sins).. Decided to investigate a little further. Cash policy at work = photo ID + cash up front if there's no credit card to play with... bingo, I had LilKitty's passport.... it was an aussie one, sex listed as F, but the killer.... born in Bangkok.. birthplace of the shemale.

I await the girls coming to see me tomorrow so I can check the Adam's Apples and hand size...

Why is it that I attract transexual hookers... I must change perfume! Doesn't mean I don't appreciate the flowers though!


Now onto the attack of the teentards!
You know when a young guest checks in (MsBitch) (with 3 of her mates) and her bag makes the dull 'clunk' of alcoholic bottle on alcoholic bottle that there could be some 'issues' that night.

Thought nothing of it until the random phone call
Knobhead (friend of MsBitch): "Hi, can you tell which room I'm calling from"
Me: "Nope, sorry, not on this phone" (very inconsiderately calling me on the phone without caller ID
Knobhead: "Well the champagnes flowing and we're having a party, will you come party with us"
Me: "Some of us have to work for a living" (he was a drunk teen, I wasn't in the mood)
Knobhead: "OK well I'll call ya later and try again" (thus confirming my call of Knobhead."

Mentioned the phone call to CareBear as someone being that obnoxious is likely also noisy, probably worth doing a quick floor check.

19:26
Carebear: "Can you please note Rm 425 and the time, they've just had their first warning, they're our bandits, 90% sure"
Me: "Done... they gonna be trouble?"
Carebear: "Nah, they say they're going out, will recheck in an hour."

20:43
Carebear: "Can you please note Rm 425 and time again, they're on final warning... say they're going out, will be checking again in a few minutes"

20:44
Music in the G room across the foyer goes out, the engagement party going on downstairs are about to make the boring speeches

20:45
Hell breaks loose as every fire alarm in the hotel goes insane. My phone rings incessantly with people asking if they need to evacuate... I consider telling them to light a match and pray to Allah coz the flames from hell have arrived... but can't finish the thought coz of the bells, the bells, the bloody bells.
Poor CareBear is in charge of the hotel... BigBoss is off in Melbourne on days off, Boss2 is in Launceston getting loved up, Gossipy the Front office manager has rolled off to Burnie for the long weekend... the last words said to CareBear were 'just don't burn the place down'.... ironic..

CareBear has done a speedy run down four flights of stairs to check the fire panel, and scooted back up to bloody 425 (as that's the fire alarm that was lit up on the panel) and they've run off... door open, booze everywhere, belongings scattered). No fire, someone's (most likely) held a lighter up to the alarm then run like hell to get out of the hotel.

So the 150 people downstairs have shuffled out half naked into the freezing cold (the bright sparks at the engagement party are having their photo's taken in front of the fire engine... I was too busy looking for the hot one... to no avail).

Mr Fireypants gives the all clear and we all hoon back in to the warmth.... until we realise there's smokin in the restaurant... bloody fire alarms shut off all the exhaust fans so all the smoke from the wood-fired pizza oven is just waffling through the first floor. Someone whinges, we ignore him.. busy plotting against miscreants.

Starting with a preauthorised charge of $500 against lil MsBitch's credit card... no way the hotel will be paying the bill for that false alarm and we start plotting.

The end plan is very simple. Play it cool, play it calm, write it all up BUT note on MsBitch, Knobhead & co's room that the Manager on Duty ONLY has authority to check them out.. and explain that actions (no matter how idiotic) have consequences... unless of course they come back to the hotel rowdy rambunctious and full of piss in which case they'll be out on their asses at the first peep.

People.... weird animals huh.