that's right 'Mr. Not-so-subtle, don't want to tip you so I'll avoid any interaction where your services may be rendered;' I'm talking to you.
Since working in the "service" industry, or to be more high-falutin' about it, "the hospitality industry" I've met a wide variety of people--good and bad, and the common denominator in all interactions, especially working as a bellman, is money. Or to be more precise--tipping or a gratuity. I want your money because I like to eat and drink and have a "life." You on the other hand seemed to have lost the memo on this one because as of late your wallet, money clip or rubber banded pile of crap has stayed in your pocket; leaving me to believe you actually think I wear these pants that don't breathe, and shirt that looks more apropos on a character from Hawaii five-O because I think I look good rather then because I'm at work. Granted, my fashion sense has long been scrutinized...but come on buddy cough up a couple bucks...you're on fucking vacation. Wait a minute...you're on vacation in Aspen. Did I fail to mention that? Yeah, I work at a "hip" hotel in Aspen, CO, you know, where the water flows like wine and the women instinctively flock like the salmon of capistrano." Yeah, that Aspen--it ain't cheap here Sally and those who come to play and experience a rocky mountain high know that as well...so I reiterate, where's the money shithead?
Don't let this diatribe lead you to believe that I'm not cordial when in my snazzy work uniform--quite the contrary; I'm cordial, polite and professional...not an ass kissing, brown-noser whose smile drips with a smarmy demi-glaze at the sight of an expensive car, so again, why do you choose to ignore the services I offer?
What services do I offer you may ask? Well let me tell you: I take the luggage from your car (which is usually obscenely heavy for the two night stay your slated for) and will bring it up to your room where I will then point out a couple features of said room (because if I don't, you'll call down in two minutes asking how to work a thermostat) and will then valet your car at a ridiculous nightly rate (I got nothing here--we really screw you on this one). Now many of you are saying...well I could do all of that on my own, why should I tip for something when I really have no choice in the matter? Trick question. you always have a choice--because I always ask; and if you decline my offer of help, that's fine, it's when you receive my help and keep that wad in your pocket that I want to smack you. That, and chances are you're from sea-level or somewhere down below the almost 8,000 foot elevation that Aspen is nestled at; so while you're sucking wind just getting out of the car, try lugging the 47 pieces of luggage you couldn't leave home without up a flight of stairs and then tell me anyone can do it.
I'm not saying my job is hard--because it's not. It's laughably easy; I'm talking trained monkey easy, but just because I'm not performing open-heart surgery or closing million dollar deals doesn't mean you can overlook services provided...because while you may have the fancy clothes, expensive luggage, and a home in St. Barts you should remember this: Money can't buy class my friend.
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holy cow--whats with the negative attitude towards sea-level people? and i quote:::"you're from sea-level or somewhere down below the almost 8,000 foot elevation that Aspen is nestled at".
wow, sounds like someone had a case of the Mundays and took it out on the poor st. Barts corporate guy who had to go to aspen to land a deal. He's probably missing his child's 5th birthday to be here. He's not having a good time, so tipping is the last thing on his mind. Suck it up man, you carry bags and answer a question or two, try serving drinks to these jet-lagged, lost baggage refugees who are just trying to get home to the fam.
just kidding jer, I loved this segment and the title grabbed me, i had to read! lets to a reality TV series on it...
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