Anyone who manages a hotel eventually learns that contractors are a necessary part of life. Whether they are fixing plumbing, repairing electrical systems, or resurfacing a pool deck, they show up, do the work, and occasionally leave behind stories you’ll be telling for years.
Several years ago, I was managing a property that was badly in need of repairs to the floor of our pool room. The concrete was old, cracked, and breaking apart in several places. My boss hired a company to resurface it.
I have to admit they did beautiful work. I had never seen the technique before. They laid down tape in an intricate pattern, poured the new concrete, and then removed the tape to reveal what looked like individually shaped tiles. The finished product was impressive.
The project was going smoothly until one afternoon when my staff called me to a guest room occupied by members of the contractor crew.
The scene that greeted me was disturbing.
One of the beds was covered in a mosaic of bloody streaks. There was a trail of blood across the carpet, and on the desk sat a note with the words “Kill Al” written repeatedly across the page.
My staff was ready to call the police. Looking at the room, I couldn’t entirely blame them.
My staff was well aware that before ending up in hotel management I had studied criminal justice and spent time working in law enforcement. As I stood there looking at the room, I found myself mentally revisiting old crime scene investigation classes.
The first thing I did was order everyone out of the room.
I photographed the scene, made notes, and instructed everyone who had already entered the room to write down what they had seen in case the situation turned into something more serious. I briefly debated whether I should even be inside the room myself, but my training had at least taught me how to avoid contaminating a scene. I was careful not to touch anything and paid close attention to where I walked.
At that point I wasn’t convinced a crime had occurred, but I also wasn’t prepared to dismiss the possibility. A room covered in blood and a note saying “Kill Al” simply wasn’t something I could ignore.
While I tried to remain calm and professional, I would be lying if I said the possibility of something much more serious hadn’t crossed my mind.
I went to find the contractor overseeing the project and asked him about a member of his crew named Al.
The contractor looked confused until I showed him the photographs.
What always stuck with me was how genuinely surprised he appeared. To this day I still wonder exactly how aware he was of what his crew was doing.
Now, to be fair, construction projects can be hectic. People move around, take breaks, run for supplies, and get pulled onto other tasks. The problem with that explanation is that all six members of his crew were assigned to a single pool room that was only about thirty by sixty feet and completely open. This wasn’t a situation where workers were spread across multiple buildings or hidden away in different sections of a job site.
By that point three members of his six-person crew were gone and he seemed just as surprised by the situation as I was.
From my perspective, one room looked like the aftermath of a crime scene, half of his workforce had vanished, and somehow I seemed to be the person asking the questions.
I returned to my office feeling uneasy. Surely the contractor would know if one of his people was missing.
As the afternoon wore on, I found myself thinking about the situation more and more. Although I never admitted it to my staff, I eventually walked outside and opened the dumpster to have a look inside. Thankfully, there was no body waiting for me.
A short time later, the contractor found me and explained what had happened.
The night before, several members of the crew had gone out drinking. One member of the team, a man in his sixties trying to keep up with coworkers less than half his age, suffered a seizure at the bar. During the episode he sustained several cuts and managed to break his arm.
When the seizure ended, his coworkers wanted to take him directly to the hospital.
The injured man, being both stubborn and embarrassed, refused treatment. Instead, they brought him back to the hotel where he promptly collapsed into bed while still bleeding from several cuts.
After several hours, the pain became too much for him and he finally agreed to seek medical attention. His coworkers drove him to a hospital in Green Bay, Wisconsin.
This struck me as odd since we were in Michigan and had a hospital right in town. Apparently the injured man insisted on returning closer to home and receiving treatment there.
At that point, I returned to the subject of the note.
“Who is Al?” I asked.
The contractor laughed.
Al, it turned out, was one of the crew members who had driven the injured man to Green Bay. One of the remaining workers had apparently decided it would be hilarious to leave behind the note before they left.
I wasn’t particularly amused.
Then came the final piece of bad news.
Because they were now three men short, the project would take several extra days to complete. To make matters worse, the two employees who had driven the injured worker to Green Bay had been reassigned to another project in Wisconsin rather than being sent back.
Looking back on it now, I can laugh about the whole situation.
At the time, however, I spent the better part of a week wondering whether I was managing a hotel renovation project or accidentally starring in a crime drama.
Looking back, I realize my criminal justice education had prepared me for many things. Apparently it had not prepared me for a group of contractors, a barroom seizure, and a practical joke involving a note that said “Kill Al.”
All I had wanted was a new pool deck. Instead, I found myself documenting a potential crime scene, collecting witness statements, interviewing contractors, and quietly checking dumpsters.
Hospitality management rarely goes exactly as planned.