Sweat ran down my temples as I wiped the back of my neck. Ahead, the lobby was large with folding doors on either side, fully opened. There was no AC pumping through the open-air corridors here. Just the ocean breeze. And shit, it was sweltering.
The crowds made it hotter. The staff was inundated, even more so than yesterday, with three long lines stacked with annoyed or visibly upset people. The manager who’d tried to assist me was up front, hurrying between four front desk staff talking to customers and typing away on computers and two with their backs to the lines, on the phone.
He finished with a couple, gesturing toward the hall, where many others were waiting slumped against walls, pacing, or taking up every seat possible. Some singles, most couples or families. He looked up as he gulped from his thermos, eyes landing on mine as I stood near the long front desk, beside the lines, trying to figure out if there was a difference and which line I was supposed to get into.
“Ah!” He raised his hand and waved me over.
The manager was at the line closest to me. He was able to sidestep and allow someone else to seamlessly take over.
And here, I thought I’d been sweating. His round face was flushed, pink, and dotted with sweat beads. I hoped whatever he was drinking was ice-cold.
I ignored the scathing looks from those in line and said, “Thanks. You guys are slammed. The system error must’ve really screwed things over.”
“Yeah,” he said, out of breath. Maybe he was helping me to get a breather. Irate vacationers and system glitches were two of the many reasons I could never work in the hospitality industry.
“Is there an update on that suite you said might be available tonight?”
He scrolled through his tablet, swiping away sweat, muttering under his tongue as conversations got louder and phones rang. The staff were unable to keep up, and this was hard to watch. I honestly felt horrible. Had I been lead dev or PM on their reservation website, no such error would’ve happened under my watch. I would’ve seen a bug like this from a mile away. Okay, well not a mile away. Pretty close up and over many hours of test runs, but the point was, I couldn’t imagine this happening on one of my projects. If it did, my entire team and I would be working around the clock to fix this. Surely a worldwide hotel chain as massive as this one had hundreds of people working on their sites. Surely they’d have fixed the problem by now. Woken up their top devs in the middle of the night. Said devs hustling to track and adjust.
But they had not, apparent by the level of raging tourist fumes. Many scrolled through phones or were on calls trying to find something. Tension thickened the air; grumbles were getting harsher.
Some were outright speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is ridiculous. Been waiting in line for twenty minutes. I have reservations. Hawaii needs to get their act together.”
“I’ve been waiting for an hour,” another volleyed, as if out to win a game of who’d been angrier longer. He was with his family along a wall and his teenaged kids seemed severely disinterested.
And there it came. “Let me talk to the manager. I demand a manager. I don’t want to talk to you!”
The manager in front of me side-eyed the customer, who was yelling at a short woman behind the counter, her face red.
“You don’t need to yell,” I told her, my voice rising over the commotion.
She glared at me. “Are you the manager? If not, mind your business.”
“I’m speaking with the manager right now, so you’ll have to wait. No need to yell at staff who are obviously trying their best to fix problems they’re not at fault for.”
She huffed and glared at the manager in front of me. He plastered on a tourism smile, adding, “I’ll be right with you.”
Her hard stare swept back to me. “I was here first. He just walked over to you. I saw that!”
I replied, “Because I’ve been waiting since yesterday. Politely. How long have you been waiting?”
She grumbled her time in minutes. Not an entire-ass day.
I spoke to the staff, who had their heads down trying to find solutions on their computers. “Thank you for your help with this computer glitch that probably occurred on the umbrella website handled by someone on the mainland and had nothing to do with you.”
I’d hate to work in tourism with so many entitled people who expected their vacations to be perfect while being completely unforgiving to staff. I appreciated my behind-the-scenes work even more, no matter the lack of upending excitement.
A younger woman walked through the lobby, parting the crowds with an authoritative presence, her dark hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a sleeveless white blouse, black slacks that ended a few inches above her ankles, and high heels. A woman in charge who immediately took charge, armed with a tablet to her chest and a formidable voice.
“Please don’t yell at my staff, ma’am,” she asserted to the customer. “We are trying our best to resolve the situation main servers created during an already hectic time of the year for the annual Ironman competition. I’d be happy to help you while the manager is helping another valued guest.”
The woman scoffed. “I want the manager.”
“I’m his manager,” she replied.
“Then bring me your manager. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“But you wanted to speak with him?”
“I said bring me your manager! Ugh! This is asinine.”
The woman with the tablet turned stoic and replied in a flat tone, “Here I am. You’re not going to get someone above me unless you go to Oahu or the mainland. I’ll try my best to help, but let me be clear: Please do not yell at me or my staff or you will be escorted off the premises.”
“How dare you.”
“Yes, how dare I. Now, may I offer you some refreshments while we work out your issue, or should I move on to the next valued guest waiting in line?”
“Valued guest!” She fumbled for the phone to record the manager of managers, who promptly snatched the device and said, “Security it is.”
And the next thing we knew, security was escorting this woman off the property. Everyone else suddenly found the patience they demanded of others. The lines not only quieted but moved faster.
The woman swiftly helped break down the line while the manager and staff cast grateful glances. She looked a bit like Bane, had that commanding presence when she spoke, but more put-together.
“Sir,” the manager said, drawing my attention back to him. “We still don’t have any rooms. I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, feeling worse and worse for what the staff had to endure. “I’m here with others and able to stay with them.”
“Oh, thank goodness. We will call you as soon as we have a cleared room. You’re at the top of my list. And a full refund for the nights you were unable to get, plus complimentary meals and drinks.”
