Tripod-wielding Madman

On my first trip away with the boss we were working late in Manchester and got back to the hotel at around midnight. I'd suggested earleir in the day that we book into the hotel before we started work in the evening, but he dismissed this foolosh idea as he wanted to get straight on with the work and avoid tedious distractions.

So we arrive at the hotel and attempt to check in, but of course they've let our rooms go because they thought we weren't going to show up. My boss hit the roof and stormed out of the city-centre hotel, warning me that if I didn't rectify the situation it would be squarely my fault.

After much pleading with the receptionist they booked us into a crappy hotel on the outskirts of town and arranged for a taxi to pick us up and takeus there immediately. I went out to give my boss the good news who promptly gave me a volley of verbal abuse infront of a couple of hundred people being kicked out of the busy bars we were in front of. Apparently it was my fault that the hotel had given our rooms away...

After a frosty 25 minutes the taxi arrived. It was the longest wait of my life as, with every minute that ticked past, I could see his fury increase exponentially. We arrived at the ironically-named Quality Inn some 20 minutes later, only to be confronted by a long queue of road-workers checking themsleves in at reception. Because my boss is such an important man, he obviously doesn't need to queue when checking into hotels.

Especially when the 5 men in front are all over 6 foot tall with more tattoos than you'd see at a Harley meet. So he goes barging through, saying he needs to check in urgently and is given short shrift by the receptionist. He again storms out telling me to get the situation sorted, like this whole thing is my fault. I apologise to everyone involved inside the hotel and explain what a dick my boss is. They laugh, I laugh, and for a moment everythin's alright. I get us booked in after about 5 minutes and beckon my boss to re-enter the hotel. Little did I know that what was about to happen would probably remain the single weirdest 10 minutes of my life...

My boss and I stroll across the lobby and into the lift. Everything's OK and I'm (somewhat ridiculously) proud that I've got us through such an ordeal with the minumum of fuss. The doors of the lift close and the fun begins: my boss start battering the inside of the lift with a camera tripod, coupled with a tourettes-like barrage of obscenities aimed at God-knows-who. He's shouting and swearing and swinging away, and all the while I'm stood behind him, quietly fearing for my own safety (both personal and job). Thankfully we're only on the 2nd floor, so it only lasts for a few seconds, but by that time I'd had a horrific insight into the mind of a proper maniac.
He strides out of the lift and proceeds to spit profusely as he's walking down the corridor towards our rooms. My door arrived not a second too soon, and I quickly and quietly let myself in, whimpering a quiet "Didn't our work go well, have a good night, see you in the morning" as I disappeared until the morning.

10 seconds later, 3 heavy bangs on my door followed by a shill scream of, "I can't get in my fucking room. The fucking key card's not fucking working". I brace myself for more embarrassing ridiculousness and re-enter the corridor, with as much apprehension as a soldier breaking cover under heavy fire. To calm him down I offer him my room for the night and say I'll get his key card sorted out and stay in his room. Unhappy with this, he storms off to reception barking "Stay put" as he disappeared round the corner. I can only imagine the pasting he'll receive if those road-workers are still down there, but after around 5 minutes he returns triumphant with a re-programmed key card. I breatha sigh of relief and repat my whimpers of well-wishing for the night. He puts the keycard in the lock, and again it doesn't work. I can now picture the receptionist absolutely pissing herself downstairs at the impressive stunt she's just pulled. I immediatley offer to get a new card for him, but my boss is no longer interested in playing it nice. Conversation went something like this:

Boss: "Get me in my room"

Me: "I'll go and get the card reprogrammed"

B: "No, get me in there now"

M: "How? Your key's not working- I'll go down and get reprogrammed now"

B: "Kick the door down - I want to go to bed now"

M: "What?"

B: "You're a big lad - kick that door down now"

M: "No"

B: "Look - just kick it down now"

After much too-ing and fro-ing I managed to talk him into letting me get him a new key-card. I congratulated the recpetionist on thoroughly pissing him off but pleaded with her to not do it again. Return upstairs, key works, everyone goes to bed happy (if a little weirded-out)

The next morning I rose bright and early to get the taxi we had booked for 6.40. I arrive at reception at 6.30 and confirm the taxi waiting ouside for us. I went back into the hotel to grab a horrible coffe from the restaurant next to the entrance and am back outside by 6.33. My boss walks past me to the cab, tells me to grab his bag from reception and meet him outside. As I grab the bag and turn around I see him get into the taxi and simply drive off. I get another taxi to the station, get on a different carriage fron our booked seats and leave his bag with his PA when I return to the office.

I next saw him a couple of days later when he congratualted me on a successful trip as if nothing out of the ordinary had happenned.

He's only got madder since (that was 5 years ago and I'm still here...) so I'll post a few more golden moments at some point soon.