by Rex Clark
“519” on the phone display.
His lip curling, Rick lifted the receiver. “Guest ser-” BEEEEEEP!
“Fuck!” he shouted and slammed the phone down. Then, thinking better of it, picked it up and slammed it down again for good measure.
Fuming, he waited for it to ring again so he could give the guy a piece of his mind, but it sat silent. Finally, he turned back to his laptop, burying his frustration in the inane items in his newsfeed.
He had just scrolled down to an article about a family famous for being overexposed in the media when the eight-hundred line rang. He sighed, but offered up quiet thanks that it wasn’t the moron upstairs calling him.
“Thank you for calling River Landing Resort, this is Rick. How may I help you?”
There was silence on the other end for several seconds. Rick started to repeat his greeting, when he was cut off by a deep, rattling inhalation that sounded like rocks grinding against larger rocks.
“Five… Nine… teen… please.” The voice was harsh and guttural, and filled with a phlegmy, bubbling undertone.
Rick rolled his eyes. I should have known, he thought. Keeping his tone as polite as possible, he replied, “I’m sorry, sir. This is our toll-free reservations line. I can’t connect you to a guest room on this line. You’ll have to call us back on our local number to speak to a guest.”
Another rattling inhalation. “Five… Nine… teen… please…”
Rick’s tone grew stern. “Sir, I can’t connect you to a guest room on this line. You’ll have to call the regu-“
“Five… Nine… teen. Now.”
“Sir, I cannot connect-“
“NOW.”
Rick hung up on the caller with a snarl. “Asshole,” he muttered, wondering if it was a full moon.
A moment later the 800 line rang again, and he found himself standing over it, shaking his finger in dire warning at the phone. Taking a deep breath, he answered it, somehow keeping his tone calm.
His luck was with him this time, though; someone had called to check on rates and he blew out a relieved sigh, happy to answer some intelligent questions for a change.
However, the regular line began to ring while he was speaking with the first caller. He glanced at the display, rolled his eyes when he saw the familiar “519” flashing on the caller i.d. He gave the switchboard the finger and tried his best to ignore it.
519, however, seemed happy to let the phone just ring.
Rick gritted his teeth, asked the caller on the reservations line to hold for a moment, and had just reached for the other line when 519 hung up.
Rick made a variety of hand gestures at the switchboard, nearly all of which were obscene, and went back to the caller on hold. He had just begun to answer a question about availability in October when 519 chimed in again.
Rick didn’t even look at the display; this time he was just going to let the guy listen to the phone ring on his end. After the eleventh ring, though, the reservations caller asked Rick if he needed to answer the other phone.
He sighed, agreed that he probably should, and thanked the caller for his patience as he put him on hold.
519 hung up again as Rick grabbed the receiver.
“Mother fucker,” he snarled, and just let the handset drop and dangle while he finished with the other caller. Once he was done, he turned back to the handset still swinging on it cord and placed it back in the cradle with a grimace of anticipation.
If he was expecting it to ring immediately, he was disappointed. He shook a warning finger at it again, and turned back to his computer.
Then he turned back to the phone, eyebrows raised in what he hoped was a threatening manner. It was a wasted gesture, though, as the phone still remained silent.
Rick went back to his newsfeed, still shooting glances at the switchboard. His paranoia was rewarded, though, when he saw “519” flash up on the display and grabbed the receiver before it could even ring.
“Guest services,” he said, steeling himself for the inevitable beep of buttons being pressed.
“I would like to order a pizza.”
Rick gaped. The last thing he expected to hear was an actual voice, so he momentarily blanked out on what he needed to do to keep his end of the conversation going.
“Uhh… w-, uh… I’m sorry, sir, it’s…” he shot a glance at the clock over the desk. “It’s two-fifteen in the morning, I’m afraid all the pizza places are closed for the night.”
There was a pause, and the guest spoke again.
“I want to order a pizza.”
The voice was rich and deep, like a cross between James Earl Jones and Lurch from the Addams Family, with an odd accent that defied identification.
“Yes, I understand that, sir, but like I said-“
“Is this room service?”
Rick gawped at the phone. “No, sir, this is the front desk.”
“Give me room service.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, we don’t offer room service at this hotel.”
The caller blew out a breath. “It says online that you offer room service.”
“I don’t believe so, sir. We don’t even have a kitchen on property-”
“Why would it say online that you offer room service then?”
“I don’t think it-”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“What? No, I’m-”
“Are you saying that I am lying to you? That I am incapable of correctly determining the status of eating facilities at this establishment and must utter falsehoods to cover my error?”
“No, si-”
“Let me speak to your manager.”
Rick rolled his eyes. One of the perks to working graveyards, though, was that he was the only person on duty, so by default he was in charge.
“I am the manager on duty, sir.”
“I want to order a pizza. With anchovies, black olives, pineapple, and wasabi. And thick crust.”
“Sir, I can’t-“
“’Can’t’ should not have any place in a servant’s speech. You shall provide me with the sustenance I require!”
Rick started to say something, but stopped short when he remembered the pizza cooling in the fridge in the back office. Suspicion blossomed in the recesses of his mind.
“Ironically, sir, I happen to have the very thing here at the desk, if you would like to come down and-“
“I shall do no such thing!” the man snapped. “You dare offer up your cold and moldering food to me as if it were some great and noble sacrifice! You shall provide fresh, hot sustenance, and you shall deliver it into my hands yourself!”
Rick’s lip curled. “Sir, we don’t have-“
“I’ll have you know that I will be leaving a negative review of your facility on the website, stating that you were unaccommodating and unwilling to help a paying guest.”
“Sir…”
“And I shall expect a full refund upon my departure.”
And with that, the man hung up, leaving Rick to stare at the phone in his hand. His face contorted as he ran through several insults in his mind, but ended up settling on “assmonkey” as he dropped the phone back in the cradle.
The receiver hadn’t even stopped rocking in the cradle when the phone started ringing yet again. Rick counted to ten in his head before answering.
“How late is your pool open?”
In his mind, Rick watched himself stabbing the faceless man over and over with a letter opener.
“The pool closes at eleven, sir. I’m sorry…”
“I wish to swim. Will you not permit me to make use of the pool?”
“Sir, it’s closed, I can’t-”
“So you first deny me sustenance, and now you would bar my use of your swimming facilities! Is your website filled with nothing but falsehoods and misdirections? It clearly states that your pool and your sauna are open to guest use at all hours!”
“Sauna?”
“I wish to speak to your manager!”
“Sir, as I
stated before, I am the manager on duty.”
“I will have you know that I shall be leaving a very negative review upon your website for your lack of customer service! You, sir, are a sorry excuse for a servant! And I shall expect a full refund upon departure!”
And once again, the man slammed the phone down, leaving Rick with a combination of vertigo and déjà vu. The more the man spoke, the more Rick was convinced that he was seeing things moving out of the corner of his eye, shadows that darted into corners and indefinable shapes that moved through dimensions as easily as a person walking through air. Once he was done talking to him, though, all was as it should be.
Rick dropped the phone back in place and sat down, laying his head on the desk and covering it with his arms. He sat that way for several moments, expecting the man to call back at any time.
The sound of a woman clearing her throat was what caught his attention. He looked up, startled.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to ignore you. Just trying to fend off a headache. And possible mental collapse.”
“Sounds like fun,” the woman replied.
“It isn’t. How may I help you, ma’am?”
The woman leaned against the desk and looked Rick directly in the eye.
“I realize that it’s late, but I need you to switch my room. Right now.”
“Uh… okay,” he said, happy that it was a slow night and moving rooms wouldn’t be an issue. “Which room are you in now?”
“518,” she said.
Rick typed the room number into the computer and had the woman’s account open before her room number sank in.
“518, you said?”
The woman nodded.
“It won’t be a problem to switch you, ma’am, but may I ask what’s wrong with the room?”
“It sounds like someone’s sacrificing goats in the room next door to me,” she said.
Rick couldn’t stop his eyebrow rising in surprise. “Sacri- what?”
“Sacrificing goats. I keep hearing goats baa-ing in there, and there’s some kind of weird flute music that just keeps looping over and over. It’s really loud, and it’s making my sinuses act up.”
“Would this be in 519?” A dim hope was starting to bloom in Rick’s mind; he might actually have a shot at getting his problem child kicked out of the hotel, and possibly even escorted off by the cops, if this lady could be trusted.
She was nodding. “Oh yes,” she said. “I even tried knocking on the door and telling the people in there to be quiet before I came down here. They never answered the door, though. And there’s some weird smell coming from the room. I don’t know what it is, but it’s really thick and makes you gag if breathe enough of it.”
Rick was nodding, imagining the possession of an illegal substance charge that would solve all of his problems. “Gotcha,” he said. “Well, let’s get you moved, and then I can take care of the guy next door to you.”
He was pretty sure he was smiling as he switched her room number in the system and handed her the new keys.
“I’ll bring the other ones back down when I’m done moving,” the woman said.
Rick shook his head. “No need, am’am, you can just bring them back in the morning, or leave them on the counter for housekeeping. I’m sure you just want to get to sleep.”
“Actually, I just want to get laid,” she replied with a wink as she walked away from the desk.
Rick shook his head. Some nights you see it all, he thought, and marked the room change on her registration card.
The phone rang as he was finishing up. He cringed until he saw the number on the display was 419.
“Guest services,” he said as he picked up the phone.
The man who answered him sounded out of breath. “Man, you have got to do something about these people in the room over us! They’re killing animals up there!”
“Whoa, slow down, sir. What’s going on?”
“It’s the people above us! They’re up there, stomping around, playing loud music, and it sounds like they’re killing sheep or something! And our ceiling keeps disappearing!”
“The-what?”
“Our ceiling! It keeps disappearing! Only instead of being able to see into the room above us, all you can see is stars!”
Rick was at a loss. As he floundered for an answer, the switchboard beeped, indicating another incoming call. He looked at the display, saw it was 520 calling.
“I’ve got another call coming in right now about it,” Rick said to the man. “Give me just a moment and we’ll get it taken care of.”
“But my ceiling!” the man shouted, but by then, Rick had put him on hold and answered the new caller.
“Uhh, yeah, man, I need you to come up here and tell these people next door to quiet down, or else move us to another room.”
“I’m already on it, sir,” Rick replied. “We’ve just had a couple of other complaints, and we’re addressing it now.”
“Well, you need to, because we’re trying to sleep up here and these people are doing God knows what over here.”
“We’re on it, sir.”
“Okay then.”
Rick hung up from both calls, then punched in 519 on the keyboard and waited as the phone rang. On the third ring, the guest answered it and snapped, “I do not wish to be disturbed!”
“And neither do the other guests, sir,” Rick replied, feeling the kind of justified anger that comes from knowing that the bane of one’s existence is about to be eradicated. “We’ve received several complaints from the rooms around you that you are causing a disturbance. If you continue to do so, sir, you give me no choice but to have you removed from the premises.”
Rick could hear the man on the other end of the line sucking in quick, furious breaths, as well as some tuneless noodling on a flute in the background, which seemed to be accompanied by either bagpipes or cats being strangled.
“Have you any idea to whom you speak?” the man finally said. His deep voice was low and thick with menace.
“In fact, I do,” Rick replied, trying to sound confident but having a hard time tuning out the horrible sound in the background. “I’m talking to the man who’s about five minutes away from a police escort if he doesn’t stop disturbing his neighbors.”
“Very well,” the guest hissed. “But you shall pay for your insolence. I shall write a very bad review of your establishment for all to bear witness.”
“As long as you do it quietly, go right ahead,” Rick replied, not even bothering to take this threat seriously anymore. He hung up, and waited for another fifteen minutes for anyone to make another noise complaint. No one did, though, and he finally let himself relax enough to fix a big bowl of Cream of Wheat. However, the box of plastic spoons was empty, and there were no others, leaving him to work out the logistics of eating hot cereal with a plastic knife.
He had just sat down with the bowl and knife in front of him, and was contemplating doing this with chopsticks, when 519 called down.
Rick grimaced, muttering a plethora of curses under his breath as he answered the phone.
“Guest services,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“I need you to remove a motion picture from my bill. I did not watch it; the remote stuck on the channel.”
This should be good, Rick thought. “Just a moment,” he said, getting up and pulling off the watched-movie list from the printer. He scanned the sheet and his jaw dropped so far that he was in danger of it coming completely unhinged.
Carrying the report back to the phone, he picked it up and asked, “Do you remember which movie it was?”
“I do not,” the guest replied. “It was on… some time ago. Perhaps if you tell me which motion pictures are listed, I can tell you which one I did not watch.”
Rick snorted a laugh. “Well, sir, there are several on here.”
“I have… time.”
Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Rick started at the top of the list.
“’Dir
ty Harriet’.”
“No.”
“’Magcum Force’.”
“No.”
“’The Enfucker’?”
“No.”
“’Sodden Impact’?”
“No.”
“’The Dick Pool’.”
“No.”
Rick looked back at the movies he had just read off. “Aren’t these all Dirty Harriet movies?” he said to himself, but the guest on the phone heard him and thought Rick was addressing him.
“I enjoy the story line,” the guest said, and Rick made a face at the phone before continuing down the list.
“’Little Orphan Tranny’?”
“No.”
“’Bran Fucker’s “Fistula”’?” He had a hard time keeping a straight face saying that.
“No.”
“’Pulp Friction’? ‘Thrill Jill’?”
“No.”
“’The Apple Dumpling Gangbang’?”
“No.”
“Sir, there are still several movies on this list. You really don’t remember which one you didn’t watch?”
“I do not. Continue.”
Rick shook his head again before continuing.
“’Field of Creams’.”
“No.”
“’The Bitchhiker’s Guide to the Sodomy’. Really?”
“Really. No.”
“’This Is Anal Tap’. Oh, come on!”
“No. Continue.”
Rick was suddenly certain the guy was sitting in his room naked, doing things to himself while he, Rick, read off this horrid list of adult movies.
“’Hairy Pussy and the Half-Size Prince’?” He was also certain that Terry had been talking about this one the other day.
“No.”
“Ah, wait, I think I found it. ‘Anal Tap’ is on here twice.”
“No, it is correct. I found the production values pleasurable.”
Rick looked to heaven for support, but none was forthcoming.
“’White Men Can’t Hump’.”
“No.”
“’Sex Trek3: The Search for Sperm’?”
“No.”
“’Beaches’?”
“That is the one,” the guest replied. “I did not wish to view that, but the remote device stopped there as I attempted to change the channel.”
Rick considered it for a moment. “Actually, I can see that,” he said. “All right, sir, I’ll take it off your account.”
“My thanks,” the guest replied. “But I shall still be writing a bad review of your property about the slipshod condition of your amenities. Your hotel will be buried in a flood of ill-will and wailing when I am finished with you.”
“You just do that,” Rick said, hanging up. He glanced up at the clock, which read 3:57 a.m. He sighed. At least he was on the downside of his shift; three more hours and he could escape. And when he did, he would likely be filling out job applications for latrine maintenance. In another state.
The 800 line rang, and Rick picked it up. “Thank you for call-”
“Five… Nine… teen… please…,” the rumbling voice crackled.
Rick clenched his jaw. “Sir, for the last time, this line is for reservations only. It’s not connected to the guest rooms, so I can’t-”
“Five… Nine… teen.” Hearing that voice made Rick feel somehow nauseous, as the world began spinning in an odd direction and was dragging his mind along with it.
“Sir, this-”
“Five… Nine… teen. Or I… shall de… vour… your soul…”
Rick closed his eyes and dropped the receiver back into the cradle by feel. He then reached around to the back of the phone and popped the cord out of the jack, silencing it for good.
“Now call back here. Asshole,” he muttered as he turned back to his laptop.
It had gone into hibernate mode and he had to