Yours truly made $30 in gratuities (dealers call them tokes) last night, $30 that was as appreciated as they were unreported. They came in the form of three different tips from two guests, meaning one guest was so thrilled with my service he tipped me twice.
The first tip came from the brother of a lady whom I had helped by putting an ace bandage on her knee. I was minding my own business reading the paper in the 21st-floor maid’s room when Wally, who was Charlie 4, asked for a Henry unit to bring a couple of ice packs to the room of this lady he had escorted up from the lobby. She had wrenched her knee on those impossible-to-walk-on floors at Paris.
So I helped them put the ice pack and the bandage on and the brother, who’s not quite as drunk as a lord but well on his way, gives me $5. I graciously accepted it, smiling and saying thank you and putting it my pocket without seeing how much it was. It doesn’t really matter, if they’re moved enough to give me a tip, I’ll take it. This isn’t a tipped job by any means and we certainly don’t depend on them. Turns out the guy also tipped Bi-Bob and Wally on the casino floor, though he favored them with $20 each.
I stumbled into the other $25. I was, as usual, minding my own business, this time near the guest elevators in the hotel when dispatch goes looking for a Charlie unit to report to the front desk to escort a drunk somewhere. Nobody answers so I say ‘Hey’ and dispatch takes me up on my offer and I’m sent to the front desk where this very tall, very drunk Norwegian is standing there with Dion, the hotel manager.
Turns out the Norwegian is staying next door at the Boardwalk, home to the absolute worst, though only 24-hour, buffet on The Strip, and my instructions are to walk him to the drug store next door and let him find his way back, but after a $5 tip and a few steps it is clear this would prove difficult for him and I get on the horn and tell dispatch to call Boardwalk security and have them meet us halfway. It was like something out of the Cold War, turning over a secret agent at Checkpoint Charlie. Two Boardwalk officers, thankful to be away from the stench emanating from their rancid buffet, met us and, upon transfer, I was tipped the final $20.
We also went 499. Within 20 minutes of getting to the hotel, the Henry units were dispatched to the room of a woman complaining of severe stomach pain and slight chest pain. The lady was somewhat retarded and couldn’t speak much for herself but her son knew her entire medical history, which wasn’t short, which the paramedics found rather useful.
You might it find it interesting to note that while we were waiting for the paramedics, and while they were working on the lady, OMP and I chatted about various things, from how we spent the holiday to his heart valve operation, though we were careful not discuss this so the guests could hear because while this was routine for us it wasn’t for them. D-Dawg and I were at one of these once and we pretended to take action on whether or not the guest would or would not be transported.
Here is your Henry lineup for tonight:
Henry 1 – OMP
Henry 2 – moi
Henry 3 – D-Dawg
Henry 4 – X-Ray
This will be the last time D-Dawg and I will be in the hotel together. I am sad, but am otherwise holding up well. X-Ray, predictably, will be a source of strength.