Do I Look Like a People Person?

While I’m in the midst of a whole plethora of posts about travel and travel cock-ups, I should point out a little something that happened this very day, in the midst of a busy work schedule that made me contemplate just super-gluing the phone receiver to my ear to save time.

There’s this crazy little chick who, while not part of one of my client teams, does work with this team on various projects, albeit in a different capacity. This little chick occasionally pops up to visit our neck of the woods to meet with our team, full of perky, loud opinions and a deafening chatter that sounds sort of like a million birds on amphetamines, magnified through a guitar pedal.

Today this same little chick calls me, on her cell phone, from San Diego, where she is on client business. The fact is, I have spoken to her maybe once ever, so why she is calling me is a mystery. Although, apparently it’s not going to be a mystery for long.

It seems that this Crazy Little Chick was about as confused as Anne Heche at a sexuality conference, because when she called she said, “I’m in San Diego airport but I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know where the meeting is!”

Hmmm. Now it’s possible I’m being unfairly presumptuous here Little Chick, but, when partaking on a business trip, be it close to home or 3,000 miles away, one would assume that maybe taking vital information with you like, for example, where you are going once leaving the airport, might be a pretty useful idea.

As it happened I didn’t have that information either, since none of my team are involved in said trip. She was a touch annoyed at this, which bothered me about oh…not at all. She was going to go make some calls to get the information elsewhere.

Fast forward ten minutes. Phone rings and I see her cell number on my caller ID. I pick up with my utmost, polished professional corporate greeting of, “Yeeeeeeeesssssssssssss?”

“I got to the hotel!” Little Chick says, sounding a touch frantic. “But they won’t let me go to my room.”

“Are you wearing a jacket strapped with explosives?” I didn’t ask, although I wanted to.

“My reservation is there.” she said. “But apparently I need to pay for it in advance, with a credit card.”

“Yeeeeeessssssssss…” I said again, not quite sure what her point was. “They generally insist that you to pay for your stay.”

“And…I don’t have a credit card!” she said. “So they won’t let me in.”

“You don’t have a credit card.” I said flatly. “You don’t have a single credit card?”

“Well yes, I have a credit card.” She said, “But it’s in NY. I didn’t bring it with me. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

Who the hell travels anywhere without taking a credit card and stays in hotels without a means to pay for them? I mean we can book the rooms but someone still has to pay for the damn thing. Tinkerbell doesn’t just fly in on the breeze and sprinkle her magic invisibility sparkles on the bill.

“Maybe you could do some sexual favors for the Concierge?” I also didn’t suggest although again, I wanted to.

Little Chick wants to know if my boss will let her use his credit card, however, he is not only currently in another state but hello… the card is with him. Unless you have one of those little devices that Captain Kirk used to beam stuff all over the place, I fail to see how this plan could ever succeed.

“What you need…” I started to explain helpfully, “Is an ATM. Because all hotels take cash.”

She liked that suggestion even less than she liked anything else I’d said all day.

“But, I don’t have much in my account.” She said. “I can’t afford to pay for a $200 room in cash.”

“Hence why one requires a credit card!” I said. “Seeing any light bulbs go on yet?”

OK I didn’t say that. But you know I was thinking it.

The whole time this was going on I was thinking, “Why the hell is she calling me? She doesn’t even know me. I don’t work for or with her. She has a fucking assistant she can talk to!”

Finally, another company member attending the same conference paid for her room on his credit card. Meanwhile, I spent an hour of my life I’m never getting back, running around trying to figure out her problems. Joy.

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6 Responses to “Do I Look Like a People Person?”

  1. pistols at dawn Says:

    That woman sounds like a delight. If you look at it from her perspective, a bunch of people had to hustle to cover her idiocy, so why should she learn her lesson?

    I wonder if she has a blog called “Inconsiderate Executive” and wrote that version of this story.

  2. The Guv'ner Says:

    Hahahaha, I’d love to read that version that’s for sure. Some people just sort of baffle me as to their thinking. Who goes anywhere without either a means to support themselves financially while there or an address of a place they’re supposed to be. Do they expect that the airline has all that information? It’s so bizarre. And then to be audibly pissed off about it on the phone with someone it has nothing to do with…it’s just ridiculous.

  3. Bert Bananas Says:

    And they say that the people who couldn’t cut it in the private sector work for the government… How’s this for a scary thought: She couldn’t get hired by the government because her potential bosses were afraid she’d show them up.

  4. The Guv'ner Says:

    Mr. B: I think she probably is confused over being hired ANYWHERE by ANYONE. I mean I would assume a ten year old could figure out that you need to pay for things like hotels when traveling. And that maybe they would write down the address of where they were going. But I guess some people, who are incidentally paid a metric shitload more than I, seem unable to do so. It makes the baby Jesus cry. And me contemplate homicide.

    And yes. Your thought? Shudder.

  5. Leonesse Says:

    I loved it when you saw your boss across the sea of cubicles knowing he should have left for the airport 45 minutes ago, then hear him blame you to his boss on the phone when he missed his flight.

    Good times, good times.

  6. The Guv'ner Says:

    Once when I was totally new to the game, I had a boss who said to me, “We’re having a small team meeting tomorrow morning for 30 minutes, could you order a half dozen doughnuts and some coffee?”

    I did.

    The meeting had about ten people at it and naturally only six doughnuts and a coffee pot. Naturally he made fun of me for the meager offering in front of everyone despite no one had mentioned there would be ten people attending and that by “half a dozen doughnuts and some coffee he actually meant “A shitload of pastries, juice, coffee, tea and fruit.” Gosh, my mind reading skills weren’t then what they are now. I still seethe about that.

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