Customer Assaults Mild-Mannered Hotel Clerk Over Having His Temperature Taken
One rule in life is this: You never know who you’re talking to.
Or dealing with.
Or…trying to beat up because they tried to take your temperature.
The clerk reportedly told him: Due to the pandemic, he’d need to have his temp taken.
No big deal — these days, they don’t even have to touch you.
Apparently, the man found the situation unacceptable.
Incendiary, even.
A man arrives to check into a hotel, is told by the front-desk clerk the hotel requires a temperature check.
— Glenn Greenwald (@ggreenwald) August 12, 2020
The entitled guest objects, attacks the clerk, comes to regret it quickly.
A satisfying outcome, but a reminder of the undue burden on low-paid workers (video: @em_com): pic.twitter.com/3sFAjDylom
He made his way to the door, but due to something evidently inflammatory, he couldn’t bring himself to head out.
Eventually, he came back to the desk to show the employee who’s boss.
After all, what could that docile dude do about it?
Incredibly, the man picked up a pole and threw it at the clerk.
Growing bolder, the irate avenger of those unthankful for thermometers picked up another object and chucked it.
He then walked behind the counter and commenced to clobbering the clerk.
But something happened mid-pummel: The deskjockey decided to play it reeeal unprofessional-like and fight back.
Holy cow, the staffer bombed him with a breathtaking barrage of blows in a beautiful display of bulldozing the bully.
The receptionist reigned down upon him like the wrath of God.
He beat that guy like his kisser was a conga.
Like his beak was a bongo.
The well-dressed, adroit driller drummed him ’til he was drowsy.
Or, at least, it looked that way.
A girl came in and appeared to help Mr. 98.6 remain upright.
They made their way to the car and drove away — the difficult customer now hurt, humiliated, and — clearly — without a hotel.
What could be worse? Oh, yeah — the whole thing being captured on video and posted online.
So if you happened across a man Saturday night in the municipality of Varginha with dark hair and sideburns, a white t-shirt, a hooded jacket and flip flops, he was the perfect person to ask what time it was.
He would’ve known — he’d just had his clock cleaned.
You never know who you’re talking to.
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