A story about Karma
Karma will get you every time, and she's a bitch. Perhaps you think you're beyond her reach. But allow me to tell you a little story that might change your mind. Or, at the very least, make you smile at the cosmic justice of the situation.
First, I must say that while someone was very definitely harmed in the making of this story, no one has died, and I was in no way responsible for the incident of karmic kickback.
So, this "gentleman", and I use the term loosely, called the hotel last week and wanted to speak to our General Manager (GM). Our GM wouldn't take the call, because he didn't recognize the name. So the Guy leaves a voicemail message after asking me about our standard rates. GM calls me back a few hours later, tells me to give this guy 50% off on the suite he wants. Okay. Whatever. Guy calls back to confirm the reservation and give me his info. No worries. He calls back half an hour later to see about an early check in. I said I wasn't sure because the room was occupied the night before, but we would have it ready as soon as possible. Guy tells me to let the GM know to get the room cleaned early. Ha ha. Okay, I'll tell GM to be quick about it, strip that bed quick like a bunny, GM! Right.
Anyway, Guy checks in, I go home, don't hear anything more from him. However, the other staff were not so fortunate. He bullies GM into giving him two 2-4-1 vouchers so he can eat cheaper at our restaurant both nights. Now, the voucher also says that a 20% gratuity is added to original bill automatically. But fine print (it's not that fine, BTW) is for peons, right?
Guy is a pain in the ass, very demanding, but writes in a $14 tip. Now, if he thought the tip was not included, let me just say that $14 was a less than appropriate tip considering his bill. But anyway. He comes in the next night, evidently having read the fine print at last. Wait for it. He demands his money back. That's right. He tipped "by mistake" and wants his money back. The cheap ass tip that he left, he wants back. Hah!
I'd like to present the facts that he drives a high-end Mercedes and owns an expensive mountain bike. With me? Yes. He spends lots of money on toys, but on service and vacation? Cheap bastard.
Anyway, he was even more of a pain in the ass the second night, but I won't get into details, because they're too depressing. Oh heck, well, they involve him eating all his food and then claiming that he didn't like it so they better take that off the bill as well. (They didn't.)
So I go into work yesterday and learn of the divine intervention. It seems that our executive chef (EC) was driving up the steep hill on the way to work. Coming down the hill, he notices a biker coming down really fast. Too fast. The front of the bike is already shaky. But he might have made it okay... except for the big SUV also coming down the hill. EC doesn't know whether the rider freaked out or whether the wind pressure from the passing car did it, but the bike veered off the road into the gravel ditch. Bike and rider flew about ten feet in the air before landing, hard, and rolling another 30 yards or so. EC uses some creative language, pulls a Uey, and rushes over to the guy, already dialing 911 as he runs.
And, ohmigoodness, who could it be? Yep. Our favorite Guy. Broke his collar bone visibly in two places, compound fracture in his arm. We find out later that he broke his back in not one, but EIGHT places.
Want to know the best part? Guy argues with the EMT's, complaining about the expense of an ambulance. Tried to bargain them down to $500. When they refused, he tried to convince our EC to drive him in his car...
So, yes, I have met Scrooge, and he lives in Salt Lake City.