(Post #5) So, You're In Charge Now: A Not-So-Smooth Dive into Resort Management

 The small town I’d found myself in had a population of 1,729. Blink, and you’d miss it—not that I was here for the nightlife (spoiler: it doesn’t exist). Nope, I was here to manage a beach resort for the next six months.

The drive from Sidney was gorgeous. Mountains behind me, ocean beside me—scenery so stunning, it made me forget for a moment that I was about to take charge of a resort with zero experience. But no worries, right? Famous last words.

Cathy anticipated my arrival and greeted me like her new best friend. She was all smiles, probably because she was about to hand over the reins and take off on vacation for six months. I, on the other hand, was starting to feel the weight of what I’d signed up for. I tried not to panic as I followed her around, nodding along like I knew what I was doing. The resort was charming—rustic, peaceful, and right on the beach. The kind of place people come to relax, reconnect with nature, and ideally not be disturbed by a manager having a mental breakdown.

For the first week, Cathy stayed on-site, running through everything with me while also preparing for her grand escape. Enter the workaways—a young, energetic couple from the UK who were helping out. They were friendly, enthusiastic, and, most importantly, they’d learned how to run the place. One of them was even getting the hang of the new hotel management software—software Cathy had switched to just before I arrived. It was a "new and improved" system that apparently no one could figure out.

Let me tell you, those two workaways were my lifeline, or so I thought. They promised to stick around for a couple of days to help with the transition, but as workaway life goes, they soon disappeared off to their next adventure, leaving me holding the proverbial bag. That bag, by the way, was filled with more questions than answers—like how to operate the booking system without summoning a tech support demon.

With the workaways gone and Cathy ready to pack her bags, we both realized we had a big problem: we didn’t actually know how to use the software. Imagine two blindfolded people trying to lead each other through a maze. I spent hours in the office learning the system, which involved setting up distribution channels like VRBO, Airbnb, and Booking.com—all in one unified platform, then I needed to share my knowledge with Cathy. Sounds simple, right? Well, it wasn’t. But at least the view from the office was of the ocean, so I had something to calm my nerves as I hit “refresh” for the millionth time.

As if the booking system wasn’t enough, Cathy also needed to give me a crash course in running the resort itself. We walked the grounds, peeking into each suite as she rattled off instructions: clean and prepare the rooms, greet guests, manage bookings—oh, and maintain not one, but two hot tubs. Because nothing says “retirement adventure” like becoming an expert on the use of chemicals in a hot tub.

Then there was Baby, Cathy’s cat. She’d be my companion while Cathy was off gallivanting across the globe. At least keeping a cat alive seemed like one responsibility I wouldn’t botch. Or so I hoped.

By the time Cathy was finally ready to leave, I was both excited and utterly terrified. Sure, I had extensive administrative skills, but this? This was a whole new level of responsibility. “It’s only six months,” I told myself. “What could possibly go wrong?” Well, as I’d soon discover—famous last words.

For now, though, I was determined to make the best of it—hot tubs, beach views, and all. I had no idea what the future held, but one thing was certain: it was going to be one heck of an adventure. Either that, or a colossal disaster. Unbeknownst to me, the disaster was about to take place. But at least the cat seemed happy.

The Beach

Next: Post 6 Before the Flames: When Resort Management Took a Fiery Turn