"A View of Hotel Poseidon" by Eleni Vlachos
- roifaineantarchive
- 6 hours ago
- 21 min read
Reviews are actual. Story is fictitious.
*
1 star
we all basically had to get drunk so we could make it through the night
When the five-star reviews slipped, George’s family gossiped: He was never equipped. He lacked the ambition of his father (rest his soul). Relatives shook their heads knowingly from a comfortable distance, free from the burden of offering help.
Without his father to guide him, George wondered what to do each day. Initially, he wandered through the hotel, recreating scenes from The Shining in the vast corridors with children-guests (“free tricycle rides!”). Yet he struggled to maintain the business while preserving his freedom to watch M*A*S*H reruns.
Every morning for as long as he could remember, his father Andreas had swiped the top of the marble reception desk, holding his dusty finger accusingly toward the clerks or commending its spotlessness when no soot took hold. George was jealous of the desk. He smiled wickedly to himself when someone insisted it was not marble, but dyed alabaster. The gorgeous twenty-foot limestone slab was shipped at great expense by George’s grandfather, Panagiotis, when he opened Hotel Poseidon on the boardwalk in the 1950s, funded by his wife’s seamstress income and investor friends with gambling spirits.
During the golden era of Hotel Poseidon, guests swarmed the hotel to be noticed, lounging by the Mediterranean-inspired poolside. They dined at its Michelin-starred restaurant, choosing the correct forks. Billowy beds comforted tired guests in luxurious, expansive suites, with private views of the Atlantic unfurling from ornate balconies. The hotel was the gem of the boardwalk. Some speculated a mob connection, but Andreas insisted the Greek mob was inactive, and the Italians had other priorities.
While Andreas surveilled the counter like a drill sergeant (“First impressions are everything!”) he failed to inspect one of the most troublesome places. George trailed after his father at the hotel, hoping to be fed. Andreas mistook George’s quiet disinterest as filial devotion. He crammed hospitality advice and cookies into his son’s head, dragging him to conventions and business meetings.
“Your boy is spoiled,” warned Panagiotis from his deathbed.
George watched his father’s hands as he waved at staff or helped the maids sweep the hallways. He envied his diamond-studded rings and gold chain bracelet. When Andreas waved at him to grab the broom, George pretended he saw something on the wall. Rather than work, he preferred offering small bursts of wisdom to improve the hotel. Andreas failed to recognize his son’s insights, dismissing remote-controlled vacuums, snack-delivering robots, and Ataris in every room.
George’s usual dark mood dispersed once when his father praised him for convincing a guest to upgrade their room. My son, Andreas gushed, unaware George had fabricated a bedbug infestation in their original suite. George’s beady eyes beamed up at his dad, his sallow cheeks coloring.
Yet accolades were as rare as the steaks that sealed Andreas’ fate. Mostly, Andreas found fault. He nagged George about his shoes (“Put them on!”) and attire (“I said business suit, not sweatsuit!”)
Privately, he worried his son might be dim-witted like a faltering light bulb. George overheard this concern and something inside him sank. He thought of his sister in college. Though he had no inclination toward learning or books, he aspired to appear bright. Finally, the opportunity to shine materialized. An urgent business matter summoned Andreas to Los Angeles. He patted his son’s back. “I need you to respond to ALL reviews while I’m away.”
George vowed to impress his father.
***
3 stars: Buddha, A voice of acceptance
Rounded down from 3.5 stars. Great view. Hated the carpet, but what can you do.
George flinched when Andreas shook his shoulders. “’If you don’t like it, leave the country?’ George, your grandparents were immigrants!”
Having failed again, George stared at his bare feet, eager to return to the pool. “You said to respond to all reviews,” he mumbled.
The next summer, Andreas fell backward into this same pool while chatting with soon-to-be-alarmed guests. Speculations followed his heart stoppage: Too much lobster and steak. Grief due to his louse of a son. George was like Queen Elizabeth, some hyperbolized, taking the throne at 25, such a tender age. How will he find his shoes, let alone manage his family legacy?
**
2 stars: Nice view
The view of the ocean was nice...the elevator wasn't working sometimes. Staff were nice.
George made immediate preparations to manage the hotel successfully. He wore his late father’s rings, but they slipped off his thin fingers and he lost them. He also spoke to staff using his father’s casual tone. “Howya doin’, Gail?” he said, winking at Gail, or maybe Gertrude. Complaints were tiresome, so he forbade anyone to share them once he took over. He instructed his special assistant, Sammy, to print only positive reviews and, after showing him, to deliver them to the Boardwalk Bulletin. Maybe they would write a story about his hotel and drum up business.
With dwindling guests, George dismissed several staff, including the chambermaid Betty. He was pleased at this money-saving opportunity since she was hired by his grandfather and was the highest paid. Sammy pled with his boss to give staff notice. George scoffed. “I’m a businessman, not in social services.”
When a positive review appeared again, George rejoiced. He would continue his family legacy and please his father, beaming down at him from his heavenly suite.
*****
5 stars: A nice stay
Hello Betty This is Will from Room 250 . You were so awesome and nice to us. Sorry we didn't see you when we left last Saturday. Had a blast. We will have to book again soon. Have a grest day. Hope you get to see this
Given so few positive reviews, Sammy began compiling neutral ones. After congratulating himself, George asked, “Who’s Betty?”, only half interested. He grabbed a handful of veggie straws from his desk and re-read the review, wondering why he was not mentioned. He sighed then headed to the tiki bar, where he went every morning since his father died.
“Hola! The usual, jefe?” Jorge greeted him under the thatched roof of the cantina, partly shading him from the morning sun. George covered his eyes from the blinding reflection of the beer taps and nodded. He liked Jorge, whose name he knew because of the “Jorge” plaque on the bar and since they shared a name, even though Jorge’s was spelled wrong. (He assumed “Hore-hay” was a Spanish nickname for “bartender.”)
“Turn off that tropical music crap, George!” he complained, running his finger along the bar to check for dust like his father, but doing nothing if it appeared. “I can’t hear myself think.”
He walked to the pool loungers with his Long Shore Iced Tea. He smiled to himself, remembering his father’s advice: Stay close to the guests. Sometimes, he even lay on a lounger next to guests, which increased turnover. An opportunity, George knew, to entertain more guests.
**
2 stars: Great bartender
The so-called restaurant was not staffed. Ice Machine is broken. Ice cost .50. Even Motel 6 has free ice. Two stars for the tiki bartender who was nice. Tiki bar could have used some outdoor background music.
George, a man of routine, read the morning paper after his drink. He continued receiving his father’s hard copy since he did not know how to cancel the subscription. Andreas’ office had been behind reception to monitor the front desk. George felt this proximity a violation of privacy, namely his own. Nosy staff could misconstrue his inactivity as an invitation for theirs. He opted to relocate his idleness to the finest penthouse (suite 500). He enjoyed the room service, the 360 degree views, and many long naps.
One morning, George gasped. Jorge was not at the tiki bar. He tramped to the front desk: empty. Had he fired everyone? He stormed back toward the lobby elevators to return to his room but slammed his fist on the wall when the elevator never arrived. He kicked the luggage left carelessly by the stairwell. His mood improved when Sammy brought him a positive review.
*****
5 stars: Ocean view
Oh my God beautiful view. Simply gorgeous and even though the elevators were broke we still had help getting all of our luggage up there.
George asked Sammy to organize a mandatory staff party both to locate staff and thank everyone who remained. Only Jorge and Sammy showed. Sammy assured him it was not personal. After twelve-hour shifts, climbing five flights of stairs might prove difficult. George cursed the no-shows, but not by name since he didn’t know them.
Undeterred, he decided to throw more parties and invite key business people. “It’s a numbers game,” he confided to Sammy. Soon, a tall flaxen-headed maiden emerged from the stairwell, out of breath from traipsing up five flights.
“Good God. Why isn’t the AC working?” She swiped pooling sweat from her peachy forehead.
If it weren’t for her beauty and three Long Shores, George may have ignored her since she mostly complained. Vivian Ann hated parties; she came for the networking. Yet he stood transfixed as she told him about her degree in hospitality management from the esteemed University of Phoenicia (slogan: You’re going U.P.!). Her knowledge could right Hotel Poseidon’s rough ship, so George somehow persuaded her to nuptials.
Vivian--the next Steve Wynn?--began her tenure during a challenging period for the hotel catalyzed by Jorge’s unsolicited feedback. “Jefe, a guest jumped from their suite into the bushes rather than take the stairs.”
George, showing off for his new wife, did not hesitate. “Remove the bushes.”
*
1 star: Stuck
We CARRIED our stuff up because we got STUCK in the hot elevator. Thank God I tried opening the door because it worked and we got out. Today when we checked out someone was stuck in there for 10 minutes and counting.
Two small children tumbled forth from the newlyweds, playing with outlets in their grandfather’s abandoned office in soiled diapers. They squealed and toddled by the feet of desk clerks to keep them company. The clerks embraced the responsibility, missing their own offspring while working double shifts.
In addition to facilitating unpaid daycare, Vivian increased the cost of ice to $1 (inflation) and made an “out of order” sign so weary guests no longer frantically poked the elevator button before returning exasperated to the empty lobby. She retrieved fallen bricks from the building and placed them into a bucket near the shaft gap of the fourth floor elevator (where it remained stuck). She duct taped yellow crime scene tape (found by the former bushes) from the bucket across the opening. Staff dropped their cigarette butts into the bucket or down the shaft, depending on their mood.
*****
5 stars: Beautiful location
Don’t let all the bad reviews scare you from the Poseidon! I still booked it for the ocean view. Would recommend! Our front door didn’t close very well, but it locked at night. Staff smoked in the lobby, but that was fine with me. Oh, and the elevator was working while I was there!
Once a week, Sammy lumbered up five flights of stairs to his two bosses since positive reviews had trended up from one per fiscal quarter. Sammy was hesitant to share the latest review, not entirely sure if it was positive, negative, or a mix. Seeing the five stars, he warily showed George the paper. George leaned back in his chair and smiled up at Vivian.
“My Viv. You are unstoppable.”
Vivian lifted her chin and handed the review back to Sammy. “I couldn’t do it without you, dear.”
Sammy, relieved, drove to the Boardwalk Bulletin.
*
1 star: Payola
They have an offer. If you give them a good review, you get money off for your next stay.
As an independent thinker, Vivian took the opposite course suggested by so-called experts. Case studies her professors shared as cautionary tales piqued her sense of creative empowerment as she ran experiments to prove them wrong.
*****
5 stars: Will stay again!
Such a great stay !!!! The rooms were clean. and the staff so accommidating. I will stay again!!
Guests returned regardless of their ability to spell or form complete sentences. Each exclamation mark, an exponential success! Yet one day George gasped at the spreadsheet Vivian gave him with their latest financials. Profits had decreased exponentially. This would dip into his fun fund. Vivian wiped her forehead and snatched the report back, inspecting it closely.
“It has a few misprints, I see,” she sighed. “I’ll get you a corrected version, dear.” She blamed the secretary fired months ago. Fortunately, George’s memory for staff or numbers disintegrated like sand castles at high tide.
George encouraged Vivian to fire the operations manager he supervised, what’s-his-name, so she could oversee staff directly and he could finish season six of Little House on the Prairie. He kissed her grateful face. “Your degree and interpersonal skills are a gift.”
Thereafter, the buck stopped with her, especially when she pocketed crumpled cash tendered for room payments by older guests and conspiracy theorists not wanting to be “tracked.” She fielded complaints and problem-solved with front desk clerks. Some enjoyed her help so much they left the desk to her for hours.
*
1 star: The customer is wrong
I can’t believe how unprofessional "Viv", the owner's (George’s) wife is. She’s the most rude, inconsiderate, and threatening business owner I have ever met. She yells and uses profanity when speaking with her staff and customers (that’s me).
Every morning after guzzling his Long Shores (garnished with fresh mint because Vivian complained about his breath) George ambled by reception, standing tall. He and Viv exchanged loving smiles even when she patted his hand to stop it from swiping the desk.
One morning, Reception was empty, so George shrugged and walked toward the elevator. A wildly gesticulating guest blocked his path to the stairwell. “Where is everyone?”
George detested arguments, which always led to work. He thought about his father and gathered courage, holding his hands behind his back, standing tall.
“Sir, I can … help here … you?” He sounded flat, contrived. Sweat gathered between his toes.
George did not understand most of the customer’s words, but felt a flash of insight. He handled the matter with the authority of his father and grace of his wife. The front desk clerk returned from wherever they were with the maid and glared at him. George felt their admiration as the customer marched off. Inspired, he took a washcloth and bar of soap to clean a sink in one of the rooms.
*
1 star: Nogo
I didn’t stay!! Elevator broken so my 80 year old parents had to walk 6 flights to see a disgusting and dirty, bug ridden set of rooms. Tried to get them to refund us immediately. The owner George told us we were never getting our money back bc his hotel was beautiful and he’s never had a complaint. Meanwhile the maid told us not to stay there and another family was leaving too. We had to press criminal charges with the police on advice from Mayor Asimnos. Reported to Chamber of Commerce, Board of Health, and BBB.
Though George never read negative reviews, Vivian had no such policy. She prided herself on her professionalism no matter how poor an impression their hotel left on nine out of ten guests. She felt a sudden urge to pivot.
“George, we need to talk.”
He leaned back in his father’s old chair, his bare feet crossed on the desk. He set aside the cartoon section and gazed up languidly, puzzled by her serious tone. He wiggled his toes to entertain her. She ignored his feet and put her hands on her hips.
“I’ve made an executive decision.”
George shrunk before Vivian’s towering body. His feet fell to the floor like twin soldiers and he sat at attention. He tried to follow her voice but the words clattered around aimlessly in his head. Shrieks from the balcony distracted him. Sammy had begun storing the children out on the “play porch” while he worked nearby, afraid to report they had pulled out several electrical outlets in other rooms.
“Usually Sammy takes the children away.” He gestured toward the noise, hoping to distract her, too. Yet in contrast to George’s deficit, Vivian’s attention was pure surplus.
“I want to change our name.” She lifted her hands to indicate each word as if on a marquee: “‘The Poseidon Oceanfront Resort.’”
George flinched. An unexpected pang of loyalty to his family’s legacy overcame him. “What’s wrong with Hotel Poseidon?”
“Oh, honey,” she said, tussling his hair. “Leave the business decisions to me.”
George frowned. He rarely challenged her, more out of apathy than fear. Her education also intimidated him, and he stared down at his toes. Vivian smiled. “Cute toes!” He tucked them in and remained silent.
Vivian knew perception was key. As she learned in marketing, words were at least as important as actual services in the customer’s experience. The results were immediate. Sammy printed the first almost-good review in months. Still, sweat trickled down his temple since it was not altogether positive.
**
2 stars: Bar tender was incredible
ELECTRICAL OUTLETS WERE FALLING OUT OF THE WALL. No point in complaining tho. Two good things about this hotel, 1. The bar tender WENT TO THREE different stores to find mint to make us mojitos, and the walk to the beach was great.
George glowed, but Vivian shook her head. Why didn’t Jorge ever stock enough mint? He knew those drinks were popular. She highlighted “mint” in green then scribbled on the review: inventory mgmt!
Sammy, feeling slightly nauseous, beckoned the shrieking children down the corridor. They giggled and toddled after him to the vending machines, selecting their favorite chips and cookies by banging on the glass. He lugged the tots and treats to the swimming pool, where they fed stray cats and seagulls, throwing crumbs around the ledge and into the water, laughing. Sammy had let them adopt the cats after they dragged them into the hotel one day. He added “feed the cats” to his list of ever-increasing chores, hoping the children’s happiness would correlate positively to his continued employment.
The name refresh garnered a few new bookings, but to Sammy’s dismay, the reviews for their “resort” began a familiar pattern.
*
1 star: A pool for everyone
The first room we were put in was like the maids quarters. The top lock didn’t even lock. The second room they upgraded us to had a kitchen but also a lot of rust and a moldy cat piss smell. A used washcloth and an open bar of soap were on the sink. 90% of the vending machine was sold out and the ice machine was also broken. The air conditioner in the building barely worked the rooms were humid and smelled. The pool walls and floor were slimy and has seagulls swimming in it!
Vivian stood next to the ice machine, her brows furrowed intently as she tightly grasped a wrench and glanced from her phone to the machine. She scribbled something on a piece of paper. Sammy saw her and rushed to tell Jorge the machine was being repaired. He slumped against the wall and crossed himself. He would no longer need to fetch ice from the store. He walked up three flights of stairs with a cooler, but was stopped cold by the sign:
WANT ICE? GO TO ANTARCTICA.
Jorge rushed back past the tiki bar to grab his car keys, waving at Vivian and George who lounged by the pool. They pointed at their empty glasses. The children floated in colorful tubes, chasing the gulls.
*
1 star
THIS PLACE IS BY FAR THE WORSE YET, YOU WILL NOT SLEEP TIGHT BECAUSE THE BED BUGS WILL BITE
Vivian implemented another concept from her university education: cross-training. She decided all staff should perform more than one job. Though her motivation arose from staff shortages rather than staff development, she presented the change as an “opportunity for growth.” She proposed the barkeep maintain the grounds and gardens, the front desk staff assist the maids, and the valets double as repair persons. She awarded one valet “Employee of the Month” after she fixed the ice machine, placing her framed photo by the scoop.
George cursed when Jorge called him to settle a dispute. He reluctantly approached the front desk manager slash maid Jennifer as she stood restrained by Jorge, the barkeep slash landscaper and security guard.
George no longer needed to ask “Where is Vivian?” since staff now intercepted him preemptively. “Vivian is shopping for air fresheners and new bedding,” Jorge said, struggling to capture Jennifer’s wayward arm.
George stomped his bare foot. “Crap always happens when she’s gone!”
“I just can’t take it anymore!” Jennifer yelled to no one in particular. She tried to slam her fist for emphasis but Jorge caught it.
“What’s happening?” George asked, without wanting to know.
“That jerk stole our microwave!”
“What jerk?”
“The guest jerk! All they do is complain. Then they take the microwave! Hey, let me go!”
Jorge loosened his grip. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “But you tried to hit him….”
“I’ll bring this matter to Vivian, post-haste!” George said pre-haste, in a confused yet authoritative tone, then trudged off to his suite before more could be asked of him.
George sank into his couch and watched Oprah and ate popcorn. Upon Vivian’s return, he had all but forgotten the incident. She dumped piles of evergreen-shaped “new car” and “fresh beach” fresheners on his desk then sorted them. She paged Sammy. “Hang these in every bathroom,” she said, handing him the “new car” bag. “And these,” she handed him the second bag, “Near each entrance. When a guest enters the room, the first sensation they encounter will be….” she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “The beach,” she sighed.
George dropped a kernel on the floor and one of the toddlers stuffed it into her mouth. The phone rang and he glanced toward Vivian. Her nose was buried in the bag of “new car” Sammy held awkwardly for her while he answered the phone. “Ma’am, it’s Jennifer.”
Vivian cradled the phone with her neck. “It’s simple,” she rolled her eyes. “Charge them for the microwave.”
Sammy broke away then paused at the door. “Uh, one thing…”
“What?” Her crimson lips tightened into chili peppers. The brand refresh failed to conjure the glut of positive reviews she expected, and her mood had soured. Sammy regretted speaking.
“ I…it’s just that…there are no microwaves in the rooms. We never…”
The girl toddler began choking. “Are you contradicting me?” Vivian turned to look at her child curiously. Her face had turned blue-green. She rushed to her side. Sammy dropped the bags and, in a single swipe, extracted the kernel.
Vivian grabbed him by his shoulders. She shook him. “You saved her life, Samuel!” He dropped his head, which wobbled as she continued to shake him. “You will be rewarded.”
*
1/5 stars: Microwaves
Disgusting. I wish i didn't have to give any stars. The dirtiest hotel I have ever stayed in. The vents look like they haven't been cleaned in years. Everything has rust and grime on it. There were fruit flys everywhere! Whenever we needed something the front desk/maid had the worst attitude. We had a kitchen, and the smoke detector was removed. We had to switch rooms because the ac didn't work in the first one, and then the desk/maid accused us of stealing the microwave from the first room, that was never even there. A microwave!!!!!!! DO NOT STAY HERE!
Sammy noticed flies swarming around half-full energy drink cans and a sticky substance along the baseboard. He approached Jennifer about missing this grime during the maid portion of her shift.
“First I’m in trouble for taking naps. Now I solve the problem, and still get heat?” She swung her arm back from the desk as if to pummel him. Sammy quickly ducked, but she just pulled a key from a hook without looking and handed it to the younger of two men checking in.
Now slightly afraid, Sammy told Vivian how well Jennifer managed the desk. She could almost do the job in her sleep, he added. Vivian replaced Samuel’s photo with Jennifer’s on the template George mistakenly printed, crossing out “Wanted” in Sharpie and writing “Employee of the Month.” She treated her to a manicure. Viv loved an entourage, but also knew staff, like customers, must be kept happy. Besides, Jennifer’s nails were the first thing guests saw. They should make an impression.
Things would turn around, Sammy reasoned, if he could help his bosses manage the small details. He decided to clean up after the front desk/maids to ensure smooth operations, and check the fly traps. When an older guest collapsed following a five-story climb, Sammy felt grateful he had learned first aid as part of Vivian’s cross-training program. George, passing by, bent over to invite him for a drink. Sammy made an unintelligible noise due to his CPR administration. George paused momentarily, shrugged, then walked away.
Afterward, Sammy slumped against the wall, exhausted. He began smoking just to get breaks, hiding in vacant rooms and staring out at the ocean. He vowed to get his life in order as soon as he had a moment to think. When he heard beeping in his head, he knew he must lie down, if only for five minutes.
*
1/5 stars: Don’t fall off little alarm
They gave us our keys and there was someone already in that room, the customer service was garbage, they were never at desk or they where nodding off at the counter. The elevator very rarely worked, making it difficult for my older father going up the stairs to 5th floor along with another guest who literally looked like he needed an ambulance after doing all those stairs. Our room smelled like mold and mildew and we had to leave balcony door open in order not to feel sick from the smell, the fire alarm was beeping and falling off the wall. Paint on walls were chipped and crumbling off.
After his nap, Sammy stopped by the tiki bar to find George. He feared he took his lack of response personally. George, sipping a minty Long Shore, seemed unperturbed. He patted Sammy on the back.
“Samuel!”
Sammy cringed when Vivian’s menacing tone surged across the pool. She rushed toward him. He would tell her he revived an AC unit and a guest earlier to show his break was well deserved. He felt less like a special assistant and more like a servant.
“Can you paint?” Vivian panted, sweat beading up by her hairline from the quick sprint.
Though Sammy only painted once (in fact, the room instigating Vivian’s request) he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
George, disliking work chatter, took a drink to Jennifer to help her relax. Not finding her at the desk, he gave it to the other front desk/maid, who downed it like a shot.
*
1 star
The room had a stench of cigarettes. You can almost taste it. There was mold around the AC. The bed was uncomfortable and there was trash from a previous tenant. I went down the next day to complain and was met by an employee who said the staff went to get their nails done, and she didn't look/talk quite sober. We stood on the 5th floor and the elevator was broken. Location to the beach is great.
Vivian sensed George distancing himself from resort operations. Combined with her aversion to accounting and desire to pursue the “big picture” (rewarding clerks with manicures) she assigned him the bi-weekly payroll.
In a rare moment of alacrity and innovation, he discovered a way to automate the task so he would not have to do it. Simply enter the information into a free program he found online, and magic: Everyone gets paid.
**
2/5 stars
The Elevator didn’t work when we arrived so we had to carry all our luggage up to the 5th floor luckily they had it running by the end of the day but it didn’t feel safe. Our door barely shut properly if we didn’t slam it, it could be simply pushed open. Sadly we over heard the maids saying they didn’t get paid and that the owner “forgot” to do the payroll for them and it isn’t the first time it’s happened.
Vivian noticed a surplus of funds in their account and decided to repair the elevator. She asked Sammy for quotes, then found George at the front desk since the front desk/maid had passed out. She told him she read how wearing shoes indoors generated more moisture, leading to dirt and toxic residue in carpets. George, a long-time proponent of walking barefoot (putting on socks was tiresome) nodded his approval vigorously.
Vivian instituted a no-shoes while cleaning policy, which the desk clerks slash maids initially ignored. Eventually, they found it freeing to clean the rooms barefoot, carefully minding any needles or worms. (The latter staff wrapped in bedsheets, then flushed down the toilet. Some sheets were bloody anyway from cleaning their foot wounds.)
*
1/5 stars
The rooms were super nasty, rooms smelt like dirty feet, mold in the bathroom. My sisters bathroom in her room, the paint was peeling and the toilet wouldn't stop running! Sheets are terribly stained, worms in rooms. Owner is a creep!
The only exception Vivian made to the no-shoe policy was for the janitor/chefs in charge of cleaning the pool after they reported ruptured feet. A liability. As Vivian walked through the second-floor hallway she saw a guest stop and point at the maid’s bare feet, about to complain. She could sense a complaint forming like a wave cresting. Quickly, she redirected.
“Are you a Gemini?”
**
2/5 stars
My blanket had a blood stain on it, but the location is amazing. If you’re religious you wanna throw up a prayer before getting in the elevator and for the love of God bring sandals to wear around the pool. I think they used broken glass as a filler in the concrete. But again... amazing location.
George bought an outdoor fireplace to install by the tiki bar. He noticed Jorge shivering during the colder months, and took pity on his inability to mix a good drink while shaking. Jorge thanked him profusely for the addition, though the warmth only reached George at his barstool. He then bought two dozen tiki torches and told Jorge to light them up around the entire hotel every night. “Since you’re still shaking,” he said generously.
Sammy emerged from the poolside showers with the children, dripping. “Thank you, boss,” Sammy said, rubbing his hands together, watching wearily as the children toddled too close to the flames. “Just a reminder to pay staff double this pay period.”
Though George accidentally sent the last batch of checks to Nigeria, he blamed no one except the Nigerians and his staff. “People and their money!”
*
1 star
The awning above the entrance to the lobby caught fire while we were there. No alarms were sounded and no one came to the room or called the phone to advise us to evacuate until the fire department gave the all clear. I only knew because I heard the fire trucks.
Sammy hauled the children downstairs when they demanded to see the fire engines. Before, he would have cringed in anticipation of a negative review. Yet each unfavorable review meant bookings somehow continued, and, he felt with gratitude, his job.
*
1 star
Pros: Location
Cons: It SMELLS, you have to go to the 3rd floor to PAY for ice. It looks like 1980 inside
Despite the customer always being right, returning guests seemed to ignore the opinions of their brethren. Vivian’s initial enthusiasm for making improvements waned with each year as there did not seem to be a cause and effect. Despite her efforts, the complaints continued, but so did the bookings. She spent less time managing and more time reading mystery novels while Sammy homeschooled her children by the poolside.
The Poseidon Oceanfront Resort boldly continued crumbling over the imposing Atlantic. George and Vivian watched a tall wave break on the beach for the thousandth time under the dishwater sky of January, hungover after ringing in 2020. What else could go wrong, they laughed together from their balcony. We have dealt with everything.
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