Based on the brilliant "how may we hate you" website, I wouldn't last five minutes as a hotel concierge

I clicked a Twitter link to the “how may we hate you?” website earlier this week (sorry – I can’t remember who to hat-tip) and spent a thoroughly enjoyable twenty minutes reading the dialogue between seemingly deranged guests and two long-suffering concierges working at two Times Square hotel concierges. I'm not the world's most patient person, and I couldnt help wondering how long I could put up with some of these idiots before going postal and having to be led away in handcuffs.  You can visit this gem of a site here. You can also read a few examples below – and these aren’t even the best exchanges:

GUEST: I’m supposed to go to this building that’s between two streets. Do you know where that is?

GUEST: Do you guys have forks? You know, like, eating utensils? (mimes eating with a fork)
CONCIERGE: Yes, sir, I’m familiar with forks.

GUEST ON PHONE:  Hi there. We’ll be staying at your hotel in about 5 months and we’re interested in going to Carmine’s.  Can you overnight Fed-Ex us a menu?

GUEST: We have a complaint.
CONCIERGE: I’m sorry to hear that. What’s going on?
GUEST: The concierge from before was terrible.
CONCIERGE: Oh my, I’m sorry to hear that.
GUEST:  Well this morning we came down here asking about a diner, and she gave us directions there, and it was terrible. Just terrible.
CONCIERGE: Wait, I’m sorry. This morning?
GUEST: Yes. Whoever was working your desk is not up to the standards of this hotel.
CONCIERGE: Sir, I AM the concierge from this morning.
(long pause. he squints at my nametag, then back at me)
GUEST: Well in any event, that diner was terrible! You shouldn’t send people there.
CONCIERGE: I do remember that, I recommended a different restaurant but you asked about the diner so I gave you that information as well.
GUEST: Well it was terrible.
CONCIERGE: I’m sorry to hear that.
GUEST: You really shouldn’t send people there.
CONCIERGE: (silently develops small cancerous growths from swallowed rage) Duly noted, sir.

GUEST: Where is Cellini?
CONCIERGE: 54th between Madison and Park.
GUEST: But what is the ADDRESS?
CONCIERGE: 65 E. 54th.
(beat)
GUEST: NO. THE ADDRESS!
CONCIERGE: That is the address.
GUEST: But what do I tell a cab driver?
CONCIERGE: Tell a cab driver it’s on 54th between Park and Madison. They will know what that means.
GUEST: But that’s not the address! What address is it?
CONCIERGE: 65 E. 54th St.
GUEST: WHAT? The address is 65 E. 54th? That doesn’t even make sense.
CONCIERGE: It… um…. Well, here. This is their website. It says 65 E. 54th.
GUEST: So I tell that to a cab driver?
CONCIERGE: You can.
GUEST: What if they don’t know that address?
CONCIERGE: Give them the cross streets. They will know what 54th between Park and Madison means. The 65 is the street address. The “East” means it’s on the east side. 54th is the street.
GUEST: (sighs and rolls eyes) I’m getting VERY frustrated.
CONCIERGE: I’m sorry! I’m just not sure how else to explain. I can mark a map?
GUEST: Like I can read a map!
(rolls eyes. walks off.)


This Midwestern dude, who’s clearly never met a Jew before and is SUPER excited to be in Jew York, keeps awkwardly using Yiddish phrases like it’s the best, most Jewish day of his life. This is how he must have imagined that playing out in his head:
GUEST: “Oy vey, this traffic is really, just, the pits!”
CONCIERGE: Yes sir, we’ll provide you a complimentary menorah and tiny-jew-hat, on the house.”
GUEST: “No way, really? I’m schvitzing!”
CONCIERGE: “L’chaim!”
(we dance the Harem and drink Manosavitz and eat That Soup With The Big Balls and have beards)
CONCIERGE: “Now you seem like a nice Jew fellow. Would you care to eat this Lutheran baby with me?”
GUEST: “Now THAT’S where I draw the LINE!”
(he nails the 95 Theses to my Jew heart. It dies. I die.)
GUEST: “Now, off to Times Square!”
(he buys a hat)

GUEST: We wanna do 2 things today: Eiffel Tower, and 9/11.

GUEST: We want to have Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Can you make us a reservation?
CONCIERGE: They don’t actually serve breakfast.
(Guest rolls eyes)
GUEST: Well, brunch then.

GUEST: We want breakfast at Donkey Donald’s.
CONCIERGE: Donkey Donald’s?
GUEST: Ehhhhhh, yes. Franchise?
CONCIERGE: Donkey Donald’s?
GUEST: Good breakfast.
(CONCIERGE googles “Donkey Donald’s Franchise” and finds nothing)
CONCIERGE: I’m not familiar with it. Do you mean McDonald’s?
GUEST: HAHAHA. (In French to his family) He thinks we want McDonald’s!
FAMILY: HAHAHAHAHAHA.
GUEST: No. Nice place for breakfast with Donalds.
CONCIERGE: Can you write the name for me?
(Guest writes out “Dunkin Donuts.”)
CONCIERGE: Oh. 2 blocks south.
GUEST: Popular place?
CONCIERGE: America runs on it.
GUEST: (impressed) Oh! Thank you!

(PS There's a bonus point if you know which film the photo at the top of this post is from.)