It's been quite slow lately at the hotel. Well, the hotel is doing just fine, bidness is slow for the valets. I've done very little the last few weeks, except catch a cold and reminisce about better days long gone at the SWANKY hotel.
Ah yes, the Swank. My old stomping grounds - where the rich and famous cross paths with the down and out at the intersection where Union Square meets the Tenderloin. Oh, the things (and people) that went down in and around my beloved Swank hotel, and the lessons I learned at that peculiar little morsel of chaos that accurately represents what's so great yet profoundly fucked up with life in America.
But this here entry isn't about a political statement. It's about lessons learned, like how to spot a "working" girl, how to tell if said girl is actually a girl, and how to get a decent tip if the girl happens to be a non-girl.
Listen (um, read) and learn, I'm here to spread knowledge as often as yo mama spreads her legs. Aw don't get all offended, you know I'm truthin'. I parked the heifer's car two weeks ago and all the tell tale signs were there.
What are the signs of a car owned by a professional woman of the night you ask?
For starters most hookers drive a sports car or luxury car that's a few years old. Usually a little more beat up than a car its age should be (kinda like the ho driving the car), a large dent somewhere, maybe the paint's a little rough, the interior will no doubt smell like fruity (watermelon, peach, or strawberry) perfume futilely trying to mask the overpowering (but always welcome) smell of freshly smoked weed. The girl herself will be hot or at least she'll strut around like she thinks she's hot shit. If she's really blatant about it, she'll look like she's about to hit the stage at a strip club. Oh, and about half the time the steering wheel will either be sticky or have one of those funky ass furry covers on it that don't let you steer the car properly (explains the big ass dent).
The dead give aways: Stripper type clothes all over the interior. She forgets who the room is registered to. She may also forget the duffle bag full of sex toys in her trunk. She comes in after 10pm and leaves for good before 3am. You park her car on a fairly regular basis, but she never visits the same guest(s).
Every now and then you'll park a car and the tell tale signs are there, but something may seem a little askew. Maybe she has an adam's apple. Perhaps her voice is a little too deep, especially when she's not speaking so faintly that she's almost whispering. Maybe she has on so much make up that even a schmo like you knows she's trying to hide something. Look at the hands, given the aforementioned evidence, they will tell you the truth - do they look like she's been doing construction? Do they look strong enough to strangle a large ape? Are the veins on the back of her hand thick enough that Michael J. Fox can give her an injection without missing the mark? Yes you say? Well, then you should be smart enough to put two and two together Einstein.
Now, now don't act like that. We're all adults here. Valets are here to park cars not judge. Whatever deity, scientific theory, old school philosopher, or general superstition you believe in knows you've made your share of mistakes - that's why you're a valet - so don't act like you're better than someone who represents an opportunity for you to make money. If you're smart and/or seasoned enough you'll tell Miss Mann all about the parking rates in the hopes that her john will come down later to pay the short term rate instead of the full overnight rate.
Now pay attention, this is how you turn a shitty tip into a $20 tip. When Mr. John comes down to pay for the short term rate and see his date off, you be polite as hell even compliment Miss Mann if you have to, then look Mr. John directly in his eye while smirking like "yeah, I know the deal". See if he doesn't pay you handsomely for your silence. I did this a gang of times at the Swank and it only failed me once, but that dude had absolutely no shame in his game. He even looked at me like "I don't give a shit who you tell, I had a good time and that bitch and your parking company took the last of my dough."
Alrighty then, go on with your freaky ass.
