That's all fine and dandy; the thing that sucks butts is that the people are waiting there, staring at you on the other side of the glass doors, growing impatient and testy, so you have to be the bad guy while you verify their identity, or while you tell them to take a dump elsewhere, or while you call their friend's room to see if they are expecting company. After all, the doors are locked, and how do we know you didn't just find that key on the street and claim to be a guest with a demagnitized card?
To make matters worse, we communicate with them through an old-fashioned, almost unintelligible intercom system. We have to lean over and push "Talk" to speak to them, and often have communication problems. It's frustrating.
Sometimes, it can become like a battle of wills. The other day I had a visual epiphany that metaphorically wraps up the whole situation: It's like a martial-arts video game with a stamina bar to the far left and far right for each player. A while ago, a girl came with two girlfriends asking to see her brother in Room 511. They were standing there as if I would open the door for them at any minute. I searched our system while their impatient eyes rolled: No guests in room 511. "What was your brother's name?" I inquired.
"Well," she said, "it wasn't reserved under his name, so his name won't be on it." OK, so the only other thing I could think of was that her brother was at one of the other sister hotels in our city under the same flag. Still standing there, she asked for the phone numbers of those hotels. Now things were feeling really awkward. Here they were - standing at the door in protest. What could I do? I could have called out the phone numbers and info of our sister hotels over the clumsy intercom.
I couldn't take it. I pushed the door button, let them in, gave them the phone numbers and addresses of the two sister hotels, and they went on their merry way. At the same time, they were realizing that they could have just found this info on their phones. But when I chose not to open the door, common sense gave way to a battle of wills: They were gonna be a couple of bitches and FIGHT - Play Tekken with the Night Audit Man. They're a couple of drunk punks, dressed like skanky hos, and anyways, I shouldn't have let them in.
So, this was when the hotel was not even 30 days old, and I was still getting accustomed to not letting people in, which was hard when the PM shift would push the open button for any fucktard who walked up... which defeats the purpose of a locking door. But over time, I've become "meaner":
Just the other night, a group of nicely-dressed drunken girls came up to the door expecting me to push the open button - but I didn't. I motioned that they needed to use their card. Finally, one of them figured it out and swiped her card, opening the door. They came in and one of them made a sarcastic remark: "Thanks for letting us in; That was real nice." She was the one who was limping on the way to the elevator and probably almost puked in it, and I think I remember her or one of them wearing a plastic princess prom-night crown - and they were like, in their late 20's.
The fact is, the closed glass door and the intercom create this confrontational setting. It pisses people off, and it becomes a personal issue. If there was no way they could see me, it would be different. But they know that all I have to do is push the button, but I'm not doing that because I don't trust them. Why don't I trust them? Is it because it's hotel policy? Or is it because they look like skanky hos? More often than not, guests and general members of the public will take it personally when I don't just open the door and let them in. And I gotta deal with that.
This time, I screwed the pooch and let these dumb 20-somethings in. Who knows: They might have had 3 cans of pepper-spray and a desperate need to empty the cash register.
Later, talking to the security guard, I realized the best option would have been to print out directions to the sister hotel and have the security guard go out and hand it to them. Teamwork. That's what I'll do next time.
Afterwards, I had the video-game vision and realized that she, with all her impatient and testy attitude, had worn down my stamina. This won't happen again. Next time, I'm prepared to say everything over the crankety old intercom, maybe something like: "Google it, bitch." Then again, you never know, she might have been a VIP guest's sister at a sister hotel...
In my experience though, guests appreciate your security efforts in the long-term. They might be cranky and pissed that you have to look them up before opening the doors even though they're standing there with suitcases, but they'll sleep that night knowing how safe they are; and some of them will actually get pissed if you let them in without security measures, because that shows that you'll let anybody in.
So when the doors are locked, stick to the security rules, stick to your guns, don't let them wear down your stamina bar. Stamina is really the name of the game when your "bouncing" ends with the push of a button.
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