This was another weekend from hell at the hotel; another girls’ soccer team. One huge sleepover: loud, noisy, and unsupervised. Squealing, running in the halls, non-stop knocking on each other’s doors. I’m trying to learn more tolerance for those lacking in
consideration for others, so I didn’t’ even complain like the other guests who had someone from the front desk come up to handle them. I also had my first experience with the ubiquitous, over the top soccer mom. Yes, they’re everything they’re known for, and then some. About 11:30 a.m. I was reading and minding my own business washing clothes in the laundry room. In walks several soccer moms wanting to use the one washer and one dryer for the team clothes, both of which I already had clothes in. Our machines are speed challenged so I told them I’d be at least another hour. They left. Why didn’t they think of the uniforms the night before instead of going out drinking with the rest of the non-chaperones? A few minutes later, one stormed back in acting like a nut job to inform me this was just not going to work for her. Her daughter’s jacket was wet and she needed
it dried for the game. It was 96 friggin degrees here at the time. It would have dried outside in two minutes.
She decides to hell with my laundry and commandeers the dryer. I even had time left on the machine. She started it over and announced she’d be back in a few minutes. I’m wondering why I’m allowing her to do this since I was in the middle of using it, except she was so aggressive. I decided I couldn’t trust her to not grab my already-washed white clothes, which were hanging precariously on the laundry powder dispenser machine’s coin slots, and throw them on the floor in a rage. Her few minutes grew into forty. So much for needing it in a hurry. My impatience was palpable. I kept pacing. I knew the jacket was already dry, but I left it in the dryer for fear she’d cause World War III, thinking I touched it. I had other things to do besides spending my entire day in the laundry room, ya know. Finally, she ran in, grabbed it and ran out the door. I was tossed an off-handed, quick thanks as she exited. Next time, try Motel 6. They’ll even leave the light on for you.
This was the weekend of my disbelief, and it didn’t stop with soccer moms. Someone had left a little fur-ball, perhaps a shitzu, locked in their car with the windows rolled up in the heat while they went into a neighborhood restaurant/bar. Have people lost their minds? Looks like it’s gonna be a long summer.
consideration for others, so I didn’t’ even complain like the other guests who had someone from the front desk come up to handle them. I also had my first experience with the ubiquitous, over the top soccer mom. Yes, they’re everything they’re known for, and then some. About 11:30 a.m. I was reading and minding my own business washing clothes in the laundry room. In walks several soccer moms wanting to use the one washer and one dryer for the team clothes, both of which I already had clothes in. Our machines are speed challenged so I told them I’d be at least another hour. They left. Why didn’t they think of the uniforms the night before instead of going out drinking with the rest of the non-chaperones? A few minutes later, one stormed back in acting like a nut job to inform me this was just not going to work for her. Her daughter’s jacket was wet and she needed
it dried for the game. It was 96 friggin degrees here at the time. It would have dried outside in two minutes.
She decides to hell with my laundry and commandeers the dryer. I even had time left on the machine. She started it over and announced she’d be back in a few minutes. I’m wondering why I’m allowing her to do this since I was in the middle of using it, except she was so aggressive. I decided I couldn’t trust her to not grab my already-washed white clothes, which were hanging precariously on the laundry powder dispenser machine’s coin slots, and throw them on the floor in a rage. Her few minutes grew into forty. So much for needing it in a hurry. My impatience was palpable. I kept pacing. I knew the jacket was already dry, but I left it in the dryer for fear she’d cause World War III, thinking I touched it. I had other things to do besides spending my entire day in the laundry room, ya know. Finally, she ran in, grabbed it and ran out the door. I was tossed an off-handed, quick thanks as she exited. Next time, try Motel 6. They’ll even leave the light on for you.
This was the weekend of my disbelief, and it didn’t stop with soccer moms. Someone had left a little fur-ball, perhaps a shitzu, locked in their car with the windows rolled up in the heat while they went into a neighborhood restaurant/bar. Have people lost their minds? Looks like it’s gonna be a long summer.