Human Guinea Pigs (An Unfortunate Series of Memories Triggered By Unprofessional Fridays)
By teekomeeko 6 Comments
Let's get to it. Stick with me, this gets awful.
The Elusive Target lady on that first gaming segment of Unprofessional Fridays, whose charity work was a front for human experimentation, reminds of working in a hotel.
There were a bunch of Syrian dudes (very young, like 18-26 or so) who had rooms in the extended stay apartments there as "students.” Their government paid for their stays, I believe, at least partially. It became an issue because they'd have to be charged waaaaaay more than normal sometimes because they treated the housekeepers like dirt by literally never cleaning up a goddamn crumb. A fifteen-minute assignment was easily an hour for them almost every time. I mean, they had dishwashers and waited three days (these were apartments, after all, with tons of extra and towels and amenities) for a housekeeper to put the dishes in FOR them. It was hard to tell what was trash in those rooms because there would be stale food next to clothes next to rotting food next to half-empty dishes with rotting food. Okay, there was one guy was incredibly clean – obviously my favorite dude to take care of.
Now for the scary part. They were human guinea pigs for the big pharma within view of the hotel.
It wasn’t even hard to figure out. They would be injured in precise or repeating ways basically 95% of the time. When changing their linens, it wasn’t rare to see bed sheets with blood all over them. One kid was regularly cut up, groupings of small slices about two inches long on his back, like someone was counting days in a prison but without the diagonal “5” slash. He’d heal (or it seemed that was because his sheets weren't a Stephen King reference), then immediately cut up again within days.
The broken bones were some of the scariest ones. One specific guy would be walking with crutches for several weeks, a cast from knee to toe. Then he would be perfectly fine. Then that same leg would be broken again. Fuck… Another guy had an arm that was the same. I can only hope they were given anesthetic before their bones were smashed.
At one point someone refused service for about a week and a half, only asking for a couple extra towels, toilet paper, and soap. He would just open his door a slit and say something like “no service, towels only please" (they didn’t read English almost at all, and didn’t understand to put the “do not disturb” sign up). The tiny fraction of a second I saw his face it was a complete mess, swollen beyond recognition.
Their rooms were an addict’s dream. Tons of bottles for different prescription painkillers littered all over the place. Sometimes I’d find half-filled bottles in the trash because they’d moved on to the next thing. I worked with a few people who were a bit… not fully morally grounded, and heard a few times how they could just steal a couple bottles, these dudes would never notice, and make some easy cash. I very much did not want to work around these people, because I was afraid they were already doing exactly that and I didn’t feel like getting in trouble for that bullshit.
Anyway, another thing I’m reminded of is that these dudes looked good. Because I myself look like a goddamn troll, everyone's physical appearance is pretty good or great to me, but yo these guys had looks. When they weren't fubar’d in some way, they looked like a damn boy band. I’d feel bad that these handsome or cute A.F. young men were being wrecked on the regular in a country where most could have been models, but then the majority of them would treat me, my fellow room attendants, and other hotel staff like garbage and I’d be all eff these a-holes.
Sorry, those last bits were tangents, but I wrote what was in my head. In any case, I’m done now. Had to say that aloud somewhere I guess.
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