Dive in Deep

Trent

I bounced my pencil up and down on the blank paper in front of me. I liked being old school. I liked jotting things down. My iPad was on the table as well, but my big, meaty fingers made it difficult to push the ridiculously small buttons. I jotted things down, and my secretary took care of making it into a document.

I reached my hand up, tugging at the tie choking me. It wasn’t anything I would ever get used to. I liked the look, but damn, I hated the feeling.

“Will you stop?” my friend and right-hand man, Richie, growled.

I looked up at him and grinned. “Was I bugging you?”

“You know you are,” he said. “Why in the hell do you insist on writing stuff down? Welcome to the twenty-first century. Grab that damn tablet and put it to use.”

“Technically, I haven’t written anything down,” I retorted.

“We need to get this figured out,” he said in a serious tone. “Shit is about to get real. If we beat last year’s occupancy levels like we’ve predicted, we need to be ready. We can’t afford to have things go wrong. You know it only takes one of those stupid Yelp reviews to tank our business. It’s like a domino effect. When one hits, others quickly add their two cents.”

I nodded. “You’re right. Both hotels are booked solid. We could hire more staff, just temporarily to get through the first rush of the season when all the college grads are out looking to sow their wild oats. We need extra maintenance on hand as well—I don’t want a repeat of last year. Overflowing toilets is not something I ever want to encounter again.”

He winced. “We have hired more maintenance full time, but the temporary thing?” He shook his head. “That always backfires. Temps don’t have the same commitment as our full-time staff.”

“Do you have that list from the head of housekeeping?” I asked, deciding it was better to rely on the people who worked in the trenches and knew firsthand what it would take to make the job easier.

He nodded, sliding his finger over the tablet he was using to make notes on. “We talked about linens. Should we do it?”

I shrugged. “If that makes it easier, let’s do it. There will be less wait on laundry to come back.”

“Done. Next?” His blue eyes stared at me.

I let out a sigh. “I don’t know. We need to take care of our staff. They are going to be working their asses off. Why don’t we have breakfast catered for them every day? Breakfast and dinner,” I quickly amended.

“That’s going to cost you,” he advised.

“If I don’t have a happy staff, it’s going to cost me more,” I told him. “I want them to enjoy their jobs. It took too much time and money to get them trained to the level they are at now. This season could really put us on the map as a destination getaway.”

“Got it. You’re right.”

We talked a bit more about what we could expect for the coming weekend. Lake Tahoe was a destination for college kids all across the country. It was also a family destination. My hotels tried to cater to both. We had a system worked out that put families on the upper floors on one side of the hotel, with the louder, more likely to party young adults on the ground floors.

“It’s going to be a success,” Richie said confidently. “I know it.”