Original subtitles

I know chicks like that...

Hey, Bell. Something wrong?

- I'm okay. - Obviously not. What's wrong?

- I don't want to bother you. - Alrighty.

- Martin's sleeping with Clémence. - Who's Clémence?

You know, brown hair, average height, hazel eyes, always smiling...

The hooker.

- Escort. - Oh, the whore!

Of course she sleeps around.

She's a hooker.

But she told me she didn't sleep with the staff. So either she lied,

or she thinks Martin's really hot.

- She lied. - She lied.

So "privatize" her.

- What? - She's a woman, not a reception room.

No! You privatize her.

You book her around the clock. Then you'll be her only client.

She won't have time for any other guy. Like I did with my wife.

- Seriously? - Yes, that and...

beating up her pimp.

That could work.

Like in Pretty Woman.

Eventually, she'd grow fond of me.

That ain't half-bad. - Yes, it is. It's downright stupid.

I'm dead broke anyway, and since I haven't been paid...

- Wait, what? You're not getting paid? - I've gotten bupkis.

What is this crap?! What is this, China?! Are we in China?!

- We are not. - Exactly! People get paid here!

Whether employers like it or not, employees have rights,

social benefits people fought for, and I won't let you trample them!

Why has William not been paid yet?!

It's only the 19th. Employees get paid at the end of the month.

Right. That's a good...

Good point.

- You should've asked. I knew this wasn't China. - Shut it.

Fuckin' jerk!

So the rich kid has money problems?

"Boo-hoo! I've burned through all my money!"

"I found a bill in my pocket. No, it's just paper!"

So you eavesdrop now?

No, I just have excellent hearing. The ears of a bat.

You're a dolphin.

The dolphin's telling you to hustle. Getting tips isn't that complicated.

Meaning?

Do your job properly. You can't imagine what I buy with my tips.

Sure, I can.

My dear Mamar!

Just give me 20 seconds.

Then don't tell me to come at 9:00. Make it 9:00:20.

Enough. I get it.

I wanted to have a little chat with you, dear Mamar,

because I want to know:

How's life? How's work going? Etc.

I think I've reached such a level of excellence that other employees see me as a role model.

Perhaps even a mentor.

- Actually, I wanted to talk, Tintin. - Martin.

That's not what your colleagues say.

- No? - No.

Remember the idea for the...

...hotel box?

The anonymous complaint box.

- 'Course. - There.

I'll pick one.

"Martin is too hard on us. It doesn't motivate us at all."

That's a lazy bum, like Selim or William.

I'll pick another. What do we have here?

"Martin is like Hitler,

but less charismatic."

Well, that's Delphine the bigmouth.

That's Thomas. Look again?

There's probably 2, 3, maybe 14 notes saying "Fire William".

You know I'm cool, right? So you need to chill.

Xavier Niel addressed this in his book. As a leader, you're a +4.

So I want you, from this moment on,

to use a very simple method.

Every time you're about to criticize employees, you'll pay them two compliments first.

With all due respect,

that's the shittiest idea I've ever heard, yet the complaint box--

- And the two compliments? - Must I really?

- Mamar-- - Martin.

I may be cool, but I'm still your boss. End of story.

Ma'am.

The diving suit and the...

...snorkel you ordered are here.

Thomas. Handsome, isn't he?

And very elegant. - Thank you.

However, I never ordered this shit, so beat it.

- That wasn't a snorkel. - I know.

Wait, let me help you! That's what I'm here for.

Please. Are you heading out?

Then I'll open it for you. Here you go. Have a nice day.

Are you leaving too, sir?

Any tip is appreciated.

Like spit.

Fuck.

Okay.

Mind telling me what's he doing?

I can't. Actually, no one can.

This morning, he spent 45 minutes talking to the coffee machine.

- You're not gonna chew him out? - I'm not allowed.

The manager wants me to offer two compliments for every criticism. How can I compliment that?

Yeah, it's a bit of a stretch. But what's the problem?

Complimenting people's a good thing.

It's... good.

Sure. Come on, try it on me.

You look well.

No, you do. I mean, you should be riddled with STDs, so...

But I see no rash or... So congrats.

Good luck.

So they'll understand me.

- Let me help. - No. No.

I'm here to help.

- Enough! I'm good, alright?! - You're sweating. Are you hot?

- Because you're tugging on my suitcase. - I'll cool you off... by blowing on you.

Your breath smells of stinky cheese, my friend.

Now piss off or I'll have you fired. Freak!

It's Gouda.

Come on, I know you can do it.

Don't you feel better?

It was horrible.

I need a shower.

Cool.

Say, can you take this to Mrs. Rosier? She's waiting for her tea.

- Will you tip me? - Sure! Wait.

There. Go on. Chop-chop.

A tip!

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Here.

Thank you. Very kind of you.

Here.

Well, thank you. Thanks very much. Have a nice day.

Excuse me!

I ordered tea.

It's right there.

Sorry. Sometimes I forget things.

No problem.

Here you go. Your orange juice.

I didn't order juice.

Yes, you did. You always order tea and orange juice.

Sorry. Sometimes I forget things.

Sorry. Here.

Go on, take it. It's my pleasure.

Twenty, 30, 80...

Before you say anything, I'm on break. So I'm not working.

I wasn't gonna say anything. Just wondering where all this came from.

It's called professionalism.

Professionalism? So you've heard of it?

Yes, I have. Ever heard of tips? They're from a client.

- Alright. Which one? - Mrs. Rosier. Know her?

Mrs. Rosier, room 103. Always requests a sea view.

36th stay in 12 years. Tea in the morning, herbal tea at 6 p.m.

Memory pillows and silk sheets.

- Favourite colour? - Blue.

- Birthplace? - Pointe-à-Pitre.

You're not human, are you?

I also know she has Alzheimer's. So if I find out--

What the hell?!

Unbelievable! Piss off!

What's wrong with this hotel?!

What the hell? Three bloody Mexicans bursting into my room while I'm showering!

- Room 213, right? - Yes.

They're the three Mariachis you ordered this morning.

What the fuck's wrong with this hotel?! Is this a joke?!

What's so funny?

Nothing.

- Something. - No.

- You ordered the Mariachis. - No idea what you're talking about.

I never ordered Mexican Mariachis!

Actually, sir, I'm not Mexican. I'm from Angoulême.

I'm just saying, 'cause I've been accused of cultural appropriation.

Sir, I'm so sorry about this little misunderstanding.

Dinner and our best bottle of wine on the house.

You can go back to your room, I'll see to everything.

Thank you! Angoulême!

And you! You're such...

Help me out here.

- Smiling. - Yeah. Yeah, smiling, okay.

Smiling's good. He's very good at it.

Come with me.

Get a room, you two!

To fuck, I mean.

- Here we are. He booked the Mariachis. - Snitch. Know what I did to the last one?

Okay, alright. Now, let's come up with two compliments

in order to criticize him. Go on.

You're in great shape.

That's nice. Between the job and the kids,

no time to hit the gym. I've lost muscle mass.

Yeah, me too. So how are the kids? Good?

We're still looking for a school for Statham, but it's all good.

Statham?

We named the eldest Jason, the younger one Statham.

That's... so unusual.

I'm touched, sir. Especially for the kids.

- Of course. - Unusual.

Very unusual.

Unusual!

Here we are.

Actually, my dear Loïc.

A little gift.

But it's William.

Is it?

Loïc?

Coming.

I have something important to tell you.

Why do you always wear that ridiculous outfit?

I look like an idiot!

And no one told me. I mean, look at this--

- Does your mother know you're a bellboy? - My mother?

My daughter, Sandrine.

- You're mistaken-- - Listen.

I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to give you something before I go.

- Sorry, but just so we're clear-- - Let me finish.

I'm not so young anymore, and when I die,

I don't want my savings to go to just anybody.

You know what?

Let's write my will together!

- But-- - Come here!

Come, darling, come!

Give your grandma a hug.

- You're a piece of shit. - I don't care.

I came to work here to get my birthright back.

Whoever's birthright. As long as I get my life back.

If I don't take it, her family will get everything.

They don't give a damn about the old lady. The money will be wasted on them anyway.

Not me. Give it to me, I'll spend it!

- You're such an altruist. - Exactly.

Funny. Because swindling a sick old woman?

That's not altruism.

That's being a shit-heel.

I don't belong here. I'm too different.

So I'll sign the papers and you'll never see me again.

What's with him?

Must be your altruism.

A stripper for tomorrow morning.

Yes, Mr. Brassens. Yes.

Duly noted.

What's going on? You're not allowed to cry! It's nothing.

He... he has a pollen allergy. What's going on?

It's William. He said he was leaving.

Seriously?

I guess he realized he was incompetent useless, a piece of shit basically.

No, he said there was no point in staying since an old woman's leaving him all her money.

- What now? - Strange. Your vein's throbbing.

Like Galabru.

That was my dog's name. Galabru. We called him that because...

...he's dead.

- Dear Loïc, how are you? - Fine... Grandma.

And what's all this?

Remember yesterday we talked about...?

You mean the will!

I wrote it out last night.

Here it is.

Dated and signed.

- Get away from my mother! - But...

Sandrine?! What are you doing here?

- Hi, Mom. - At least give your son a hug!

Grandma, he's not your grandson.

I'm your grandson! Loïc!

Why's he talking to me like I was senile?!

- She's lost her marbles. - Mom! This man is not your grandson.

Loïc's your grandson.

He's a bellboy. A bad, bad bellboy who's stealing our money!

Don't treat her like a halfwit. She understands.

- You shut up. - You brought them here, huh?

At first, I wanted to chew you out myself, but couldn't think of two compliments.

I'll sue you. You hear me? I'll ruin you.

No, Mom. He's just a shitty bellboy. He has no money.

If you want to cash in big, we should sue the hotel.

No! We're not responsible. Actually, I warned you. So...

I'll put you out of business. You hear me? I'll ruin you!

Or I can offer you... bath salts.

- I'm gonna kill you! - Stop! I...

I... don't want the money. I don't want it anymore.

Let's tear up the will and move on.

No way! You deserve that money!

You're the only one in the family who takes care of me.

Well, thanks, Mom! And who's the kind soul

who took all the furniture when Dad died?

Okay, we took the money, but only so you'd pay less tax, Grandma!

Understand?

Can you hear us? She can't hear a thing.

- Good evening. - What is this?

So you're sexually harassing my mother now?

This isn't my doing!

Thomas.

- What a handsome man! - Hang on.

- The show's supposed to last 20 minutes. - Shut up. "I leave my entire fortune,

my entire savings, as well as my assets,

including my principal residence and my cottage"--

That bitch. She never told me about the cottage.

"--to the only person who takes care of me and cares about my happiness and my health"...

Blah blah blah... And who might that be? Her grandson Loïc!

I get everything!

- All's well that ends well. - Shut it.

Loïc, I'm her daughter!

I deserve that money. I've been putting up with her longer!

So what? It's mine!

Alright, Mrs. Rosier, let's take a little stroll before you go.

With pleasure.

I'm sick and tired of their constant bellowing. Let's go.

That's life, Mom!

I'm Loïc, not you.

- Two packets of bath salts-- - Shut up.

So, Mrs. Rosier? All in all, you had a nice stay?

Excellent.

In fact, the stripper gave me his number!

You little scamp.

You know, in only two days, I've seen: Mexicans,

a diving suit, and a male stripper for Georges Brassens.

- Wait. You know all those phone calls? - Yeah?

That was me. It was a little prank.

I know.

So you knew it was me? But you still ordered everything?

Yes. I was amazed you could do so many voices.

You're the best!

Attention, please! Staff meeting right now, please!

- Be right back. - Okay.

Come on, come on. Alright, guys.

Xavier Niel doesn't address this, because these things never happen!

I can't free you, Willy. I've trusted you unconditionally!!

So the least you can do, pal, is be my labrador. Okay?

- I didn't get that, but okay. - Galabru was a labrador.

And you... you... Same goes for you, Thomas!

What's all this crap you sent to our guests? We've had more than 10 complaints!

- It was him! - I don't care who's to blame.

Someone's going to pay for all that,

or someone will get sacked!

Back in a sec.

Mrs. Rosier, would you mind if I used the money you gave me?

It's for a colleague.

It's yours.

Better you than those morons.

Thanks.

Okay, I'll pay.

Someone's been tipping me well lately, so I can pay. How much?

800 bucks.

Well... Okay, then.

That's good! I like it.

Yes. Congratulations. You're more generous than you look.

And... you have team spirit. Good on you.

Yes! The two compliments.

Right? That's good.

But you have a piss-poor attitude, which makes you the shittiest employee ever!

Then the criticism!

Bell, I could use 200 bucks.

Stop.

- Dumbass cab driver! - He wanted a tip too, poor bastard!

You want me? You're in love?

Slut. She pissed me off!

At least 100, for Statham. I could buy a car.

"Slut"!

- What's happening?! - I don't want them to see me!

- Who?! - My friends!

- Who are you hiding from? - We're looking for Mazières. Seen him?

I hate being kept in the dark.

We meet in a secret place along with some members.

- You don't have one here? - No.

For that, we need silence.

Jesus Mary Poppins.

I won't say a word. I...