Our breakfast consists of biscuits and gravy, french toast, white or wheat breat for toast or sandwiches, bagels, three different cereals, doughnuts, danishes, sometimes we have apple fritters, oranges and bananas, instant oatmeal, 2% and fat-free milk, ice water, orange and apple juice, peeled hard-boiled eggs, sliced ham on busy nights, and yogurt. Most people really enjoy it, when they don’t see the sweaty guy preparing it (the little pantry room we have to work in has three industrail freezers, an oven, and poor ventelation. By the time I’m finished with breakfast, I look like Robin Williams after the Viagra bit.)
I’ve been to Lewiston/Clarkson twice: once to play golf and just loll about town; once to take the jet boats up the Snake River for an overnighter.
Tell us about the petroglyphs?
Also – what would be the best bike tour?
I’ll get back to you, Mooney. I have to start breakfast now. I’ll be back on when I get home or tomorrow night at work.
Thanks for helping me pass the time, everyone. It’s a big help!
Ha ha! We’ve got breakfast people to do the setup. All I have to do is get the sausage gravy and the cinammon buns started. (I do some other things too to help out, but don’t have to!)
OK. Weird encounters. One night, while I was working at a different hotel. I glanced outside and saw a couple in the jacuzzi. Technically, they’re not supposed to be in their at 2 am, but I figured I’d let it slide. Looked out a bit later, and saw only one head.
“That’s peculiar,” thinks I, “I wonder where the guy is?”
I take a more careful look, and see that the woman’s head is laid back on the edge of the jacuzzi, as if she’s asleep. Not a good thing. So I step outside, and as I walk the thirty feet or so, I find out where the guy is. He’s submerged and going down on the young lady. I walk to within a few feet of the jacuzzi, do a complete 360 of the jacuzzi, all the while marvelling at this man’s ability to stay down for so long.
“Excuse me,” I say.
The woman gasps and (apparently) squeezes. The man surfaces (anybody ever see Hunt For Red October? You get the picture)
Once the man recovers his breath, I tell them that I understand the impulse, but I do have to ask them to get out of the jacuzzi. After all, they are in plain view of 100 rooms.
“Can’t we have ten more minutes?”
“No, I’m afraid not”
“How about fi…”
“No.”
“Okay, we’re getting out”
I withdraw so that they can get themselves back together, and go back to the door after about five minutes. They’re still in there, and she’s now on top of him.
Hmm, thinks I. I pick up the evidence camera, a Polaroid, and step out again.
Ahh, the expression on their faces. It’s a pity I didn’t have any film in the camera.
No more trouble from that pair.
Bahahahahahah!!!
INSAN
hehe 
yeah, too bad it’s not the International Night Shift Auditors’ Network of England.
You see, Galen, we save a lot of salary money by having me do the breakfast and not overlapping the shifts. That way, the hotel cuts three hours of the breakfast lady’s shift, and the breakfast still starts at 6. I wouldn’t be doing anything, anyway, so I don’t mind.
Call it the International Night Shift Auditors NEtwork, then, which is what I meant to do in the first place.
sigh
Do nervous young couples still register as “Mr. and Mrs. John Smith?”
‘Fraid not - at least not in this neck o’ the woods.
That reminds me, though; we get very careful on prom nights to check ID’s and make sure everyone checking in is eighteen. It’s a pain in the neck, but having witnessed the Angry Parent rant, it’s better that way.
Of course, often the parent rents the room for their little darlings…I’m getting too old for this world, I think.
You don’t need England - it works fine as is:
International Night Shift Auditors’ NEtwork
(my brother, tpayne here on the SDMB, was a member of this fine group shortly after he graduated from college.)
galen - I type (and code) too slow - you beat me to it.
Lsura I put myself through school doing night audit for three years. The schedule worked really well for me. Once I finished the audit (between 2 & 3 am) The time was mine. I studied (a lot) and had a great time.
As for stories, man oh man. Ic ould tell you about the time I was robbed, ot the time one of our divers went nuts and smashed all the mirrors in the lobby and the glass entrance doors before the police came and took him away. I could tell you about our death room.(Three people died inthat room in about one year.) We would check really annoying and not nice guests into that room, just hoping…
Anyway, as for you guys currently working the night audit jobs, if ya ever move to Chicago and you want a job, as long as you show up for work every night, you got a job here!!!
Oh and Eve nervous young couples would only register as Mr. & Mrs. John Smith if that was in fact their name. (Credit cards or ID checks pretty much preclude falsifying names, usually.)
I mean one of out drivers, not divers, yeesh!
lawoot, your heart’s in the right place, though your fingers (apparently) are not. 
Mind you, not all things that happen on a shift are good, and some are downright tragic.
One morning, at my previous place, the security guard called me and told me that there was a fellow asleep in the back of a minivan over by employee parking. I asked him to knock on the windows and check on the guy, and ask him to move along. The guard called back, and told me that it looked like the man was holding a shotgun on his chest as he slept. The windows were heavily tinted, but it was pretty obvious. I told him to back off, keep an eye on the minivan, and I’d call the cops to come out and check out the guy.
The cop arrives, I go out there with the guard to show him the minivan. As soon as the cop shone(g?) his flashlight in at the guy, it was obvious that he was dead. He was holding a .22 rifle snuggled up to his chest, and had shot himself under the chin. The tinting on the back window had prevented it from coming apart.
A little research showed that the man was an 18 year old from Michigan. His family had reported him missing and possibly suicidal due to a breakup with his girlfriend. He was not checked into the hotel; apparently he had pulled off the interstate, parked, and shot himself. I’m not sure how long he had been there, but it was no more than a day and a half.
Gave me the heebies for a month straight; I kept thinking if I had just noticed something, maybe I could have prevented it.
I hope my hotel turns out more like Fawlty Towers and less like the Bates’ motel.
On a lighter note…
There’s a 'possum by the pool tonight - actually, she’s* been around for a while, now. One of those critters that is so ugly, it’s cute. She seems fat and healthy, and properly afraid of people, so I guess I’ll let her stay.
*No, I haven’t gotten any closer than five feet, nor are my eyes that good; I noticed tonight she’s got a paunch - probably carrying young 'uns in her pouch. I don’t think the males do that.
Do you get a lot of Lewis & Clark jokes from tourists?
I don’t know if being a night auditor would help you answer this one, but why do hotel/motel bathrooms almost never have exhaust fans? Things can get just as stinky in there as they can in the bathroom at home.
My husband is a night auditor … until August 1st anyway.
I feel your pain.