I work the front desk at a hotel which, coincidentally, also happens to make reservations for guests at other hotels when we're booked. In the evening and on the weekends, I am the only one here. This particular evening, we are booked and so the evening went insane.
While it was busy the whole time, the real gem of business (busy-ness) occured as all three of the phones behind my desk were ringing off the hook at once, two people were on hold, all wanted lodging for the night but did not know where and therefore needed some talking-through, and in addition I had some in-person reservation-makers patiently waiting their turns and one very impatient family who didn't end up staying long enough for me to find out what they wanted. They did stay long enough to knock over the plant I keep forgetting to nurse back to health.
Our bellperson was attempting in vain to vacuum the lobby before his shift ended, and laughed companionably every so often at my earnest but clumsy attempts to restore any sort of order to my workstation. I had three piles of paperwork and kept putting sheets in the wrong piles and glaring at them with frustration in between dispensing quality guest service. I proceeded to drop a stapler on my foot (on my foot!) and then it went missing altogether, and the coffee upstairs which I am charged to make fresh each hour was fifteen minutes unfresh. The horror!
So with patience, I finally made it through all the people milling about in front of my desk, sent them off to their designated hotels armed with maps, directions, and parking passes, got the plant set back up and chatted with the bellperson as he vacuumed up the dirt from said plant.
Then came the crucial moment. The most persistant and annoying phone began to ring, and as soon as I'd answered with "Med-Inn front desk: how can I help you?" the other two began to ring simultaneously, and a few stragglers came in and sat down on the furniture. I directed the stragglers in turn to the cafeteria and the trauma/burn unit, finished my phone calls, and just as the elevator reached our lobby and dinged itself open, I threw my hands in the air and kind of yelled at my bellperson "I hate the phone!"
Off the elevator strode some guests from Poland just in time to hear my outburst. They will be staying here for the next month or so.
I think that perhaps there are times when I seem unprofessional.