Inn-keeping with Stereo-types

I manage an Inn. In Vermont. We have a handyman, named Daryl. Yes, Daryl-like-from-Newhart-Daryl. It's that kind of place. Anyway...

Caller: I'd like to have dinner tonight at 7:00 in the tavern.
Me: I'm sorry, I only have a table at 6:15 or 8:30.
Caller: Oh. How about 7:30?
Me: (biting tongue) No, I'm sorry. 6:15 or 8:30.
Caller: Oh. Well, we're going to the 9:00 movie so we really need to eat between 7 and 8.
Me: (silence)
Caller: HELLO?!! Are you there? Hello?! HELLO?!?!
Me: Yup, still here. Still 6:15 or 8:30.
Caller: (Sighs audibly. Hangs up)

Charming. I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. I lean over, though, and pat the sweetly snoring black labrador lying on the floor beneath my chair.

A week ago:

"Regular guest" arrives and goes straight to "her" room (#12). Said guest never checks in at the front desk. Simply "arrives" and deposits herself in said room, picking up her key at the desk when cocktail time rolls around. We are then to prepare glass of house cabernet (actually , NOT our house cabernet anymore but we all know its the one She wants.) Anyway, this time, She is at the desk minutes after Cadillac parks in rear lot.

She: WHAT HAPPENED IN MY ROOM?!?!
Me: Thinking 'Oh no, dog threw up', 'Interns clogged toilet', 'AC frosted over', oh god, oh god
Me: What is it?
She: It's HORRIBLE!
Me: What is it?
She: The bedspread is red! (It used to be blue. We've had a decorator in recently.) The curtains are a horror show! Get them back!
Me: Ummm...
She: NOW! I want them back! Get them back!
Me: Well, let me look into this. I know we did some redecorating but I don't believe we made any changes to Room 12 and...
She: Get them back! Get them back!
Me: I'll see what I can do.

And, I do. I JUMP on the phone, call the decorator who lives down the street and actually RUSHES over with SIX old bedspreads and her album of each room befores and afters. Locate correct blue bedspread. Run upstairs while She has so-called "house" cabernet. Quickly switch bedspread. Pull down new curtains. Replace with white. Rush backdownstairs. Sweating...

Me: The room is back as it used to be, Mrs. X
She: Well, thank goodness.