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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-11-01 17:23:45+00:00.

When I first saw the job listing, I thought it was a scam. “Night Attendant Needed. Historic Arcadian Hotel. Must be reliable, detail-oriented, and trustworthy. Pays $500 per shift.” The rate sounded unreal, too good to be true, but too good to pass up, especially considering my dwindling bank account. The email response arrived less than a day after I applied. They attached a quick questionnaire, then sent a brief email confirming that I’d been hired and was expected to report that night.

The day before my shift, an envelope arrived at my apartment. Inside, a small brass key, along with a second envelope containing a check for $500 and a handwritten note:

Congratulations, and welcome to the Arcadian family!

Enclosed is your master key. You’ll need this key to let yourself in and access certain parts of the hotel. Enter through the main doors by 10:00 p.m.

Your first shift begins promptly at 11:00 p.m.

Training will be available in the back room behind the front desk. Please watch all training materials before starting your shift.

We appreciate your commitment to rebuilding the legacy of the Arcadian.

Curious, and admittedly a little nervous, I made my way to the hotel that night.

The Arcadian was just as I’d imagined. The exterior was a fading memory of elegance, worn stone walls with crumbling edges, tall windows with elegant exterior spotlights that no longer worked. I glanced at the clock on my phone. 9:45. I had time.

The hotel’s lobby was huge, dominated by a grand staircase. Dust layered every surface, and the faintest whiff of mildew hung in the air. I took a breath, suppressing a shiver, and walked toward the front desk. Behind it was a small door labeled STAFF ONLY. This must be where they wanted me to watch the training.

Inside the staff room, I found a TV set atop a rolling cart and a row of numbered VHS tapes stacked next to it. The first tape had a label on it in looping script: “Arcadian Employee Training - 1952.” Next to it was a sheet of paper with instructions: “Watch all tapes in order. Do not skip ahead.”

I slid the first tape into the VHS player and turned on the TV. The screen flickered, a hum crackling through the speakers, and then it jumped to life.

A video came up, which looked in rough shape, like it was a copy of a copy. A cheerful man in a sharp 1950s suit stood in front of a pristine version of the lobby I’d just walked through. “Welcome to the Arcadian family!” he began with a polished grin. “We are delighted to have you on board as a steward of one of New York’s finest luxury establishments.”

His tone was light, upbeat, but he had a strange way of pausing, just momentarily, between each sentence to smile.

“Let’s begin with a few simple rules to keep our guests safe and happy!” he continued. “Remember: our guests may at times be unique, but they deserve the utmost courtesy and the finest of service. Now, please follow these essential guidelines.”

 The first few videos went over the basics; instructions on how to clean, address guests, check-ins and check-outs, when to check the guest log, and where to find supplies. But on the final video, things took a took for the strange.

“Congratulations on making it to the end of your training. Attaboy! Now, let’s cover a few final essentials to keep our guests smiling, and keep you right as rain. Listen close now, these pointers are real important!”

“Rule #1: If the elevator takes you to the basement, do not be alarmed. Simply close your eyes and stand still until it moves back up. No peeking!”

The man chuckled in a practiced, rehearsed way, as though he’d been told to laugh but wasn’t sure why. My stomach twisted at his words. The basement? Why would the elevator just take me to the basement?

“Rule #2: If you find a guest wandering the halls between 2 and 4 a.m., gently escort them back to their room. Under no circumstances should you allow them near the front doors. Use a firm hand if needed. If they seem upset, simply assure them that it will all be over soon.”

A chill ran through me. What kind of guest would be staying here, anyway? The hotel wasn’t even open. I tried to shake off the unease.

The man’s smile remained fixed as he went on with the rules.

“Rule #3: Do not look into the mirrors after midnight. Our mirrors sure are something else! We wouldn’t want you to become disoriented.”

““Rule #4: Every night, count all the keys on the board. Make sure all your keys are accounted for. Mot importantly, there should always be four keys marked for the 10th floor. If one of those keys are missing, lock up the lobby doors, turn off the lights, and wait behind the front desk until dawn. Do not attempt to look for it.”

Tenth floor? I thought. The hotel doesn’t even have 10 floors.

He proceeded with a few more rules.

“Rule #5: Now listen closely, folks! If a gentleman with a yellow umbrella comes in asking, “Do you have a vacancy?” you must politely reply, “I’m sorry, we have no vacancy.” No matter how upset he gets, stay calm and cheerful! That’s the way to keep things running smoothly!”

“Rule #6: Attention, night owl! If you find that key 309 is missing at the start of your shift, here’s what you do: whip up a ham and cheese sandwich. Gather those supplies from the kitchen. Then, head on over to room 309 and give a polite knock. Remember, don’t make eye contact! Just hold out that plate and wait until you hear the door close before you step away. You’ve got it!”

“Rule #7: Now, let’s talk about Ronald, our cleaning ace! He’ll waltz in and say, ‘I’m here to clean the mess.’ To which you’ll unlock the custodian closet, and let Ronald take it away! If he doesn’t give you that magic phrase, simply say, ‘No cleaning needed tonight, Ronald,’ and don’t forget to lock the doors tight after he leaves. That’s how we keep everything shipshape!”

“Last but not least, Rule #8: Now, listen up, friends! It’s important you remember this: Never, and I mean never, enter the management office. If you happen to find the door slightly ajar, just keep on walking and mind your business. And if you hear any peculiar sounds coming from inside, don’t let your curiosity get the better of you! Simply carry on with your tasks. We want to keep everything peachy keen around here!”

What the f…… I thought

The next few minutes focused on specifics of the hotel layout, explaining what doors led where, how to reset the breaker, and the importance of logging any “guest encounters” in the shift report binder. The rules he’d given, though, stuck with me like a bad taste.

“That concludes our training. You’re now ready to head on out there and knock it out of the park! Thank you again for your commitment to the Arcadian legacy!”

Finally, I switched off the TV. By then, it was a little after 11 pm, so I made my way to the front desk to get a feel for my new workspace.

The first part of the night was uneventful. The Arcadian was silent except for a soft hum. I completed the tasks in the handbook they’d given me, accounting for all the keys, sweeping the lobby, wiping down the desk. It was eerie, but manageable.

I settled in behind the front desk, scrolling through my phone and waiting for the night to pass by. At around 1:30 a.m., the front door of the hotel opened. An old man shuffled into the lobby. He wore a faded custodian uniform that looked like it had seen better days, and I could barely make out the name tag reading “Ronald” as he drew closer.

He moved slowly, his feet dragging slightly on the worn carpet, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I knew I had to wait for him to say the phrase that would confirm he was here for his nightly duties.

When he finally reached the desk, he looked up at me with weary eyes and said, “I’m here to clean the mess.”

A wave of relief washed over me as I realized he’d said it. I quickly unlocked the custodian closet, my hands trembling slightly as I fumbled with the keys.

As he pulled out his cart, filled with an assortment of cleaning supplies and tools, he glanced at me, almost amusingly and asked, “New here?”

“Yeah, it’s my first night. Any tips?” I replied, eager to learn anything that might ease my nerves.

“Stick to the rules, and you’ll be just fine, kid,” he said, before turning back to his cart.

He wheeled it toward the elevator, the cart rattling softly behind him. As he stepped inside, the doors closed with a quiet thud, leaving me alone again. Ronald’s words did little to ease my nerves. I was still trying to figure out what those rules might really mean, and why seemingly mundane rules would be so important to follow.

When I returned to my desk, I noticed almost immediately a space on the key rack. A key was now missing. The key to room 309. Panic rose in my chest as I rifled through the key rack again, hoping it was just hiding among the others.

“Where the hell did it go?” I muttered to myself, feeling a bead of sweat form on my forehead. I had barely left the desk for more than a minute. Had someone come in while I was with Ronald? Or had I just missed it during my last count?

I quickly pulled out my notes, scanning for the rule about the ham sandwich. There it was: if key 309 is missing, bring a ham and cheese sandwich to the room and knock, avoiding eye contact. I sighed, resigning myself to follow the rule.

Heading into the kitchen, I was surprised to find it fully stocked, despite the hotel’s long period of inactivity. T…

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