Let’s talk about the glamorous world of hospitality laundry–
Or rather, let’s talk about what ends up in it.
There are weeks when the laundry is light, the linens are fresh, and the only thing Mr. Smudg has to complain about is the soul-crushing weight of his eternal servitude.
This was not one of those weeks.
It started with a suspiciously lumpy duvet cover. Now, Mr. Smudg is no stranger to questionable shapes in sheets—he’s seen everything from half-eaten burritos to what we can only assume was a prosthetic limb (we didn’t ask, we just sanitized). But this time? It was… a souvenir from someone’s very enthusiastic evening. Here’s what I can say: It was latex-based, highly personal, and absolutely not meant for turndown service.
Still warm.
Still tucked inside like a bedtime mint, or a lost sock.
And absolutely, 100% not in the job description.
Cue Mr. Smudg’s internal monologue:
“Look I get it– you were on vacation, living your best life. But maybe don’t leave your…enthusiasm…bundled in the duvet?”
“Trash cans exist. So does basic decency..try using one.”
No note, no shame.
The madness did not stop there.
That same day, Mr Smudg stumbled upon a sock full of granola, a lace thong that looked like it had gone through a wind tunnel, shredded to bits and hanging on by a thread, shoved in a pillowcase–a fully intact McDonald’s Hamburger wrapped inside a fitted sheet.
By the end of his shift, Mr. Smudg sat atop a mountain of dirty laundry, staring into the fluorescent void, contemplating his life choices.
He once dreamed of pressed napkins and folded towels. Now? He’s knee-deep in secret snacks and slippery surprises.
But this is the job.
Behind every crisp sheet and “fresh linen” promise is a team of hardworking humans (and one emotionally unstable mascot) scrubbing out the sins of the night before.
So the next time you check out, remember:
Leave a tip.
Take all your extracurricular activity evidence with you- or at least throw it away.
And for the love of linens, don’t turn the bed sheets into something that requires a biohazard discharge bucket.
Until next time,
Mr. Smudg
Grumpy. Grossed out. Still here.