Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“No, that’s fine. I can read it here.” I extended my hand, and he gave me my work phone. We’d reached our last day outside of Freeport and had just a quick meeting with the hotel manager left. We were on our way to the hotel restaurant to meet with him right now, but I’d been looking forward to Bennett’s ideas. As we turned onto the path weaving between the bungalows and the main building, I scanned the email and felt my interest pique with each sentence.
The man had done his research, and he was continuing to do so. He was letting me know this was just the first proposal.
I wasn’t sure it would be needed, frankly. His vision of what Westwater could be… I truly liked it.
“‘Beyond the brochure,’” I read, nodding to myself. Bennett wanted to show how Westwater could protect local culture instead of blending in or, worse, fitting the image of those corporations that tried to erase it.
Going local could, in his words, involve everything from cooperating with local businesses, highlighting what a city had to offer—be it through art on the walls, history, or the food we served and the toiletries we provided in the rooms—to emphasizing that we didn’t merely protect the local heritage; we were the locals. Our staff was always local. There was a stock photo of a woman throwing a smile over her shoulder, the focus being on the print on the back of her polo.
“Ask me about my favorite sushi place in town.”
Bennett listed a selection of alternatives.
“Ask me about the best times to visit museums.”
“Ask me what time you can catch the sunrise.”
“Ask me about the next food festival.”
I rubbed my mouth and glanced up; we were almost at the restaurant, and then I returned my attention to the email.
I saw the issues, of course. These changes were expensive, and there was always a backlash when major companies tried to fit in while wearing a tiara, so to speak. But Bennett was on to something worth fleshing out. Technically, the concept wasn’t new—even for us. In some of our more exclusive locations, we already collaborated with other brands—although they tended to be of the high-end variety, such as shower products and artisanal refreshments.
The email went on for several paragraphs, but I had to pause here for now. Right where Bennett explained that the personalized uniforms could be replaced or combined with framed signs at the check-in counter, in the elevators, et cetera, depending on the location and the brand of hotel.
Something to consider, definitely.
Peyton opened the door to the restaurant, and I nodded in thanks and welcomed the blast of the colder air that the ceiling fans sent my way.
Guests were enjoying a late lunch in the dining area that opened up to a large patio. The hostess desk caught my attention, and I thought, yes, there could be a small sign encouraging the guest to ask the hostess about her favorite meal, or perhaps her favorite dessert.
“I see Mr. Poitier over there, sir.” Peyton gestured toward the patio.
“Lead the way, then, love.”
He sent me a curious little smile but made no mention of my slip.
I was suddenly in a good mood. Bennett’s email was inspiring me, and more than that, it was reminding me of the fact that I actually loved my job. The biggest bonus walked slightly ahead of me, and perhaps I shouldn’t be calling him love during work hours, but fuck it.
“What’s it say theu?” Julia pointed at the document I was reading.
“It says that Daddy deserves ice cream after dinner,” I replied.
We would be landing in Nassau shortly, and I’d gotten absolutely nothing done during our flight, because my daughter was slipping into a familiar phase where she started screaming if she couldn’t sit on my lap. And by “sit on my lap,” I meant “climbing all over me,” naturally.
It’d been a long month, and it was wearing on Julia. No amount of pool fun or shopping for souvenirs and candy we didn’t have in Boston could eliminate the fact that she missed the stability of being at home.
In fact, the traveling was beginning to wear on all of us. Well, except for Mathis. He would spend his life on the road if he could.
“Me too!” Julia said. “Does it say I can have ice cream too? Right theu?” She pointed at a graph on the document.
“Yes.” I nodded. “That’s exactly what it says, darling.”
She nodded too. “Good.”
I smiled and gave her a smooch. “Are you ready to return to your seat? We’re landing soon.”
“The pilot hasn’t said nothing.” She’d picked up on that, huh? Terrific. Julia kneeled on my lap and looked out the window. “Only water out here, Daddy. Peyton tolded me the blue is water. It’s the ocean. It’s so big!”
I glanced over at Peyton, who was watching her with a fond little grin.