During the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college, I shared a cramped space above a barbecue joint on the Intracoastal Waterway with three of my closest friends. We spent our days working at one of the most luxurious hotels in the busiest resort town in the state, all while indulging in drinks and the carefree spirit of youth. As a financially strapped student, I was grateful for the paycheck. However…
Working in a high-end resort can be a total drag. Tourists from the Midwest, Canada, and beyond flock to our sandy shores, ready to splurge on their vacations. They spend considerable money, use their vacation time, and travel long distances, which leads them to expect nothing short of perfection.
Well, not every guest, but many (perhaps most?) have this mindset. The most extreme cases believe that their hefty payments entitle them to any whim they desire. Yet, the hotel was staffed by teenagers, minimum-wage workers, and overburdened housekeepers—people who were doing their best under less-than-ideal conditions.
I worked both the front desk and in reservations, which was a unique kind of torture. Guests would call just before major holidays like Memorial Day or the Fourth of July, expecting to find a room. Spoiler alert: there were always no rooms available, or none that met their high standards. They would yell at me, demanding accommodations that I couldn’t provide. I had to maintain my composure while they lost their cool. The resort hotel rules meant I couldn’t just hang up; I had to stay polite and endure the screaming.
Then there were those who showed up without reservations and claimed they had one, throwing tantrums in the lobby when reality hit. Pro tip: avoid being that person.
Meet Mia
Let’s talk about my friend, whom we’ll call Mia. She was the owner’s granddaughter, living in the penthouse—essentially off-limits to guests. One day, a woman called, insisting she wanted to stay in the penthouse. Mia calmly explained it was occupied by her grandfather. The woman didn’t grasp why this was unreasonable and kept demanding to stay.
Next came the dishonest schemers. You know the type; they pull out their AARP cards or demand military discounts, which are legitimate, but then there are the ones who complain about nonexistent problems. We had a particularly obnoxious guest who was so troublesome that we ended up paying her to leave. Please, don’t be like her.
Endless Complaints
Then there were the endless complaints about everything: towels, pool conditions, noise from rowdy neighbors, and even the quality of the pillows. Our city is renowned for its drinking culture, and let me tell you, people would start drinking at breakfast. We often listened in on the PBX machine that relayed all communications, and it was common to hear guests cursing around children at the pool. One unforgettable incident involved someone who decided to poop in the lazy river. Picture a little turd floating around on a neon tube, soaking up the sun. Naturally, we had to shut down the lazy river, which led to a wave of complaints about the “monsters” who dared to close it. We were saving everyone from potential illness and lawsuits, but all they could think about was their disrupted fun.
For the love of all that is holy, don’t be like those guests.
One particularly forgetful woman struggled with her key card and required an escort to her room every time she left. A wedding party threw a fit because the plates were wrong. Guests had to walk through the pool area to reach the beach, and they complained that a luxury resort would make them endure such an indignity—like they expected a personal fireman’s pole straight down to the beach from their balconies. Of course, this would block their ocean view, prompting even more complaints.
And yes, we had folks who dropped heads of lettuce in the toilet and then demanded discounts! This led us to the wise conclusion from our lead maid: “vegetables in toilets always go to maintenance.”
This should honestly go without saying, but please: DON’T PUT FOOD IN THE TOILET.
But we found our little ways to get back at rude guests. If you annoyed us and paid for an oceanfront room, you might end up with a room in Lobby 21—still on the ocean side, but with an obstructed view thanks to a giant statue. “Lobby 21, bye-bye,” we’d chuckle to ourselves. Refunds? Not a chance; it was technically an ocean view.
Despite the chaos, we had to remain polite. It was our only means of releasing some of the pent-up frustration from dealing with difficult customers.
Final Thoughts
In conclusion, if you’re planning to stay at a resort, remember that perfection is a myth. Don’t call the front desk for a weather update when you have an ocean-view balcony, and certainly don’t expect us to control the elements! If you’re curious about more parenting tips and stories, check out this blog post here.
Summary: Working at a resort hotel during college was a memorable experience filled with challenges, from demanding guests to absurd complaints. The expectation of perfection from vacationers placed a heavy burden on the young staff, who found humor in their shared struggles despite the chaos.
Keyphrase: Resort hotel struggles
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