Most recent time was at the Tennessee Division Annual meeting last month. I didn't want to carry my purse to the final night dinner, so I just tucked my card into my name badge and that into my bra strap. Of course, I couldn't get into my room, and came back to the front desk to have the following conversation.
Me: Hi, I'm Janet Miles in room 325, and my key has stopped working.
Clerk: I'll be happy to reset that for you. Was it near a cellphone or a magnet?
Me: No, I don't think so, but maybe it got static from the plastic name-tag holder.
Clerk: That could be. May I see a photo ID, please?
Me: Um, it's in the room.
Clerk: [pause] I'll, ah, need to page security to escort you up and verify your ID, then.
Me: Oh, okay, that makes sense. I can appreciate that you don't want to be letting random people into rooms. Sorry about the hassle.
And that's when the clerk looked at me as though I'd sprouted a second head. I guess I was supposed to scream at her about the inconvenience and how dare she call me a liar?
I have also been the person who couldn't get into her room (this was a couple of years ago, at a random hotel somewhere in Kentucky). I admit that I felt pretty damn stupid the third time I went back to the front desk to say, "No, really, it isn't working. Room NNN, right? Card goes in this way, right? Put card in, take card out, wait for light? Yeah, not working." So they sent the maintenance guy up with me, and it turned out the battery in the lock was dead. Fortunately, there was another room available, so I moved and all was well.
And the person who managed to completely forget which room she was in. Oddly, the clerk that time just told me, didn't ask for ID or anything. It may be that she recognized me; I'd only checked in an hour or so earlier, and I was in a specific room block for a friend's wedding.