I wrestled over whether or not to file a formal complaint, because I really only have one grievance in what was an otherwise unremarkable stay in a typical low-frills hotel. Actually, if not for my one grievance I would say the stay was great, especially since I was given the cheaper group rate even though I booked my room well past the July 1 cut-off date. But my grievance has been nagging.
I was given room 309, a fine room with a broken toilet. The morning of the 24th my toilet stopped and then overflowed. It was most unpleasant. I complained, and the issue was addressed by the poor lady in housekeeping. My usage of the facilities, I assure you, was normal (especially, I would imagine, when compared to the the horrors hotel toilets must be exposed to regularly). I grew up in a large family in Mississippi, and my siblings and I learned to value every square.
The morning of the 25th my toilet clogged again (I am nothing if not regular). I went to the front desk and told the lady there that she can no longer rent out that room until this issue is remedied. I asked for a plunger so that I could deal with it myself, figuring that once-in-a-weekend was enough for the poor housecleaning woman. I could shoulder the burden that morning. The front desk lady was snide, and disdainfully implied TO ME AS I WAS ABOUT TO PLUNGE THE DAMNED THING MYSELF that I obviously had no idea how to properly use a toilet. To be clear, I am a 35-year-old man who has been faithfully flushing his morning constitutionals without error or incident for over three decades. Even this poor ole Mississippi boy knows his way around an indoor commode. Well, turns out I was the short-sighted one there, as the toilet would not plunge (though that morning it thankfully did not overflow). I left an apologetic note/forewarning on the toilet lid for the poor housekeeping woman I had hoped to spare from my latest indignity. I had a ride to catch to the airport, and frankly already felt plenty humiliated and had no desire to go another round with the front desk lady.
This is my grievance. Thanks for your time.
Last night there was a woman in my dream whose clitoris had a tongue of its own. It was black like a chow’s.