Golf, Grog, and Grumpy Old Men: Confessions from the Night Shift at Hotel Mayhem
If you think the real hazards of hospitality are late checkouts or the occasional towel thief, let me introduce you to the true nightmare: a pack of golf-obsessed, booze-fueled gentlemen on a weekend getaway. Forget the green—these guys are here to paint the town red (and sometimes brown). Welcome to the wildest weekend shift you’ll ever hear about, as shared by u/I-am-king-lexi on Reddit’s r/TalesFromTheFrontDesk.
Picture this: you’re the night staff at a modest 90-room hotel, bracing yourself for the arrival of a notorious golf group. Eighteen men, all sharing rooms, and all with a thirst for both the links and liquor that simply cannot be quenched. What could possibly go wrong? Spoiler alert: everything.
Let’s set the scene. While most nights at this hotel run with just one night porter, weekends require a buddy system—a precaution learned the hard way. Why? Because with great golf comes great irresponsibility. The hotel’s 24-hour resident bar is meant to be a perk, but it transforms into a Pandora’s Box when our swinging seniors return from a day of missed putts and pints.
It’s like clockwork: the golf crowd stumbles in, half of them unable to stand, walk, or even remember their own names—let alone room numbers. Keycards are lost to the void. Confusion reigns. And, as the staff has learned, nothing scars a person quite like encountering a gentleman of a certain age locked out of his room in nothing but his underwear. It’s a recurring sight that raises more questions than answers—what were they even trying to do?
But this last weekend, the situation teed off into a league of its own. After a standard round of wrangling the wayward and denying more drinks to the worst offenders, our heroes—two exhausted night porters—finally settled in, hoping the worst was behind them. Alas, the universe had other plans.
During a routine security walk, one porter stumbled upon a scene that would haunt even the most seasoned hospitality worker: a passed-out patron in his boxers, sprawled in the corridor, surrounded not by golf clubs or lost shoes, but by the unmistakable evidence of a night gone terribly wrong. That’s right—a pile of his own literal crap.
At first, they hoped it was just some scattered belongings. But the smell hit before the truth did. There he was, blissfully unaware, blissfully unconscious, and blissfully unbothered by the chaos he had left in his wake. The attempts to rouse him were met with groggy confusion and zero recollection of his room number. Only his name survived the night’s events—just enough for the staff to guide him back to safety (and, presumably, some much-needed shame).
And so, with a grim game of “not it,” our narrator drew the short straw and took on the unenviable task of cleaning the corridor catastrophe. If you think your job is bad, just know someone out there has had to wipe up after a drunken golfer’s digestive disaster at 2am.
And was that the end of the chaos? Of course not. The next night, the same group returned, just as inebriated and demanding more drinks—except for our sheepish hero, now avoiding eye contact with the staff. You’d think a night spent unconscious in your boxers beside a pile of your own shame would be a sobering experience, but apparently, old habits die hard.
There are a few lessons here for anyone working hospitality (or planning their own golf getaway):
- Two heads are better than one: Never work a weekend shift solo. Some nightmares require backup.
- The bar’s not always open: Sometimes, “no” is the kindest word in the English language.
- Always expect the unexpected: Whether it’s a lost key or… something more sinister, brace yourself.
- Late night pizza cures most things: Just maybe not the trauma of corridor clean-up duty.
So, next time you check into a hotel after a night out, spare a thought (and a tip) for the night staff. They’re the real MVPs, weathering storms of drunken debauchery and keeping the corridors clean—sometimes in ways you’d rather not imagine.
Have your own wild hotel story? Drop it in the comments! And if you’re a night porter, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever found on your rounds? Let’s hear those tales from the front desk!
Inspired by the rollercoaster tale from u/I-am-king-lexi on r/TalesFromTheFrontDesk. Read the original story here.
Original Reddit Post: Old men + golf + far too much alcohol = a nightmare for the night staff.