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The hostel requires a valid ID be presented, before somebody can check in.   This policy helps to prevent people who might cause  a disruption, from becoming a problem that we then have to deal with.   One night a guy comes into the hostel, saying he would like to check in.  When I ask to see his ID, he responds that he only has a check cashing card, with his picture on it.   I explain that unfortunately, he is ineligible to check in.    His response is to argue, saying I am being unfair, I have no right to deny him, that I am being discrimanatory against people without a drivers license; basically just a bunch of nonsense.   You can see the proverbial light bulb go off in his head, as he devises and comes up with a way to retaliate.   As he’s leaving the building, he turns and says, since you won’t check me in, watch this!   He then takes the lid of his bottle of water, and starts splashing it all over the floor.   As he starts to walk thru it though, he slips and falls on his ass.   Utterly defeated and disgraced, he leaves the hostel with his head bowed and his eyes averted.    A good example that when you act like an ass, you are probably going to end up falling on your …~Bentley

The clock strikes midnight, and a man comes down the stairs, looking like he has something very important to tell me.   I am busy at work, trying to complete the Night Audit, but I pause to acknowledge him, so I can see what he wants.   What he wants is me!   He positions himself very squarely in front of me, and explains with a passion only the French have, that he is gay, and has been watching me very closely since he checked in.  He would like to know if I too, am gay.  I explain patiently that I have a girlfriend, so no, I am not gay.   I must have made a pretty strong impression though, as he doesn’t budge in his determination to woo me, as only a French Man can.   He explains that he has been gay all of his life, that he knows a gay man when he sees one, and that he is sure I am gay.   I sigh, and explain again that I’m already taken by the opposite sex.    His persistence doesn’t wear off, as he continues to try and question me, telling me I should stop lying to myself and admit that I am gay.  His last plea, why not just give it a try!   Finally I say I have to get back to work, I’m sorry.   You can see the disappointment in his face, as he asks if he can have a hug.   Thinking that’s probably not a very good idea, I offer to shake his hand.   When I do, you can see in his face, that he doesn’t want to let go, and he doesn’t!   I have to wrest my hand back.   Seeing that he can’t make a connection, he finally relents, and goes up to his room,  as I am thinking to myself, if only it could be the French women! no offense to anybody who is gay. ~Bentley 

I am busy, as I am every night, working diligently at pursuing my post grad degree in Internet Studies (i.e. surfing the Internet aimlessly), when this pretty brunette, who has been staying at the hostel for awhile, appears at the front door.   She watches me thru the window, making sure she has got my attention, before she starts to lift her shirt up a few inches.   Seeing that my eyes are about to pop out of my head, she asks seductively, do you want me to lift it all the way up?   All I can think to myself is, am I going to get into trouble if I say YES!  Before I can say anything, she gives me a smirk, and calls somebody on her mobile.    She by the way, has been staying at the hostel for awhile, always coming in around 3 am.   I notice she is pretty intelligent, and observant, whenever I have a chance to talk with her.   I also notice she is always scantily clad.   Coming in at this time of night, it’s pretty obvious, she is either a bar tender, or a stripper.   I don’t want to make any assumptions, so I ask her what she’s doing in SF.   She replies matter of factly, that she is an exotic dancer, from Vancouver, CA, here to work for a few weeks. Back to the present -  A few minutes later, she enters the hostel and comes up to the front desk.   She inquires if there is anybody staying in her dorm.   I try to keep my composure as I tell her she’s by herself tonight.   She sighs a big sigh of relief, and says “Good, I like to masturbate at night, and was afraid I would have to do it in the elevator on the way up to my room, if there was somebody else there”.   She can tell obviously that I have lost what little composure I had left, so she continues.   “I just want you to know,(as she leans a little over the desk, and looks me right in the eye) I am going to be masturbating all night, while I am thinking of you”!   She then gives me the most wicked little grin,  knowing she got me, and get’s into the elevator.   All night long, my heart starts beating faster, every time I see the elevator come down from the floor she’s on.   But she never comes back down.   My hopes fade, as my shift comes to an end.   Maybe I will see her again tonight, and she will continue her…what ever it was she had in mind.   She comes in again the next night around the same time, a completely different person, seemingly oblivious to what she did that night prior.   She says hello, nonchalantly, pays for another night, without ever giving any hint she remembers anything.   It’s on the tip of my tongue, “Do you remember what you said last night”?   But I can’t say it, thinking maybe she will be embarrassed, maybe she won’t remember at all, and think I’m some sort of idiot.   Whatever she thinks, she pays for her stay and goes up to her room.I actually see her a couple of days later, when I am filling in at our Downtown location.   She walks by the hostel and pops in for a minute, when she sees me, to inquire about staying there.   She is being escorted by a gentleman, who looks like anything but what you would find in the kind of place she  works.   You can tell she feels comfortable with him, linked arm and arm, they stroll off.   I wonder from time to time, what happened to her, how did she get her start in show biz, what kind of person was she in high school, what has become of her since.   Just thoughts you think to yourself, once in awhile, about the kind of people you meet; while working the front desk in a hostel.   The kind of people you will probably never meet, once you leave.   ~Bentley Read the rest of this entry »

It’s the graveyard shift on a Saturday night (11p-7am).   A shift I’m not use to working.   Feeling out of place, I think to myself, it looks like it will be a quiet night, what could possibly go wrong.   That’s the pivotal choice you make, when you jinx yourself, thinking those thoughts is guaranteed to make something go wrong, and go wrong it did that night.   About midnight (of course) I see 5 police officers dash by the hostel, all carrying assault rifles.   My heart sinks, it’s a busy weekend night, both inside the hostel and out, so what ever is occuring, will surely be difficult to manage.   I go outside and ask a couple who were standing in front, when they ran by, if they heard what was going on.  They say the officers were talking about a man seen on one of the adjoining rooftops, with a gun.   But they didn’t run far.   They were in fact massing on the corner next to the hostel.   A group of 10, all crouched or postured like they are ready to open fire, with their weapons drawn and facing down.     The tension in the air is surreal, it must be similar to what soldiers feel, before they go into battle.   Every thought going thru those officers minds must be centered around the question, can I shoot him, before he shoots me or somebody else.   I will never forget it.      As I am thinking to myself, how could this get any worse, a group of 10 Kiwi’s (aka New Zealander’s), all guys in the age range of 19-20 who have been watching the scene unfold, come running down from the common areas, singing as loud as they can, Bad boys, bad boys, what you going do, what you going to do when they come for you (i.e the opening song for the TV show, COP’s) as they run outside and onto the adjacent corner facing the officers, giddy with anticipation that they are going to witness some action,  they are accustomed to seeing on the big screen.   You would think that when people see the police draw their weapons, they would go in the opposite direction, but the kiwi’s aren’t the only one’s out there, everybody in the neighborhood seems to have heard about what’s going down, and are filling the sidewalks.  While I’m watching this transpire, a  guest mentions to me that she thinks she saw the man they are looking for, on one of the roofs, from her bedroom window.   I have only been on for an hour, and I am feeling really, really sluggish - I’m really not use to being awake and working on this day.    But I try to pull it together and try to get the officers attention.   They respond by ordering me to get back inside.   I persist though, and a small detachment of 3 officers breaks off and enters the hostel.   The two male officers are carrying assault rifles and the one female is carrying a shotgun…thru the hostel lobby, and upstairs they go (Wouldn’t that shot, no pun intended, make a great post card!).   Before they proceed up, the female officer asks me several questions.   She is probably the most beautiful, shapely female officer you will ever see in your entire life, with the kind of features that must make it really, really easy  for her to get what ever she wants, when talking to a guy.   Except for answers from me, as I mumble and fumble totally in awe of how beautiful she is, she responds with disgust, obviously thinking who is the Idiot running the front desk.     They run upstairs and return a few minutes later, saying they didn’t see anything.   As the officers go outside, you can see the corner is full of officers and patrol cars.  Then 5 minutes later they disperse, and the scene on the street returns to normal.   Just another night in the Tenderloin.  ~Bentley