RJ W.
Yelp
A Resort That Misses the Mark for Business Travelers
I arrived at San Diego Mission Bay Resort for a four-day work conference, expecting a comfortable stay at a place that advertises itself as ideal for business events. The comedy of errors would be amusing if I weren't the one experiencing them.
Day 1: The "Work-Friendly" Setup
Upon check-in, I was given a room with ADA accommodations, which I hadn't requested. While accessibility is important, the setup was far from ideal for a work trip. There was no closet space for my suits (the hanging bar was too low), no desk, and a bathroom so small that even a basic toiletry bag felt out of place. When I requested a room that better suited a four-day work stay, I was told they couldn't move me--but they could bring me a desk.
When I returned from my evening work event, I found that their definition of a "desk" was a foldable table paired with a folding chair. Not exactly the setup you'd expect at a resort that markets itself for professional conferences.
Day 2 (8 AM): A Mimosas-and-Microphones Mashup
The conference space itself was equally disappointing. Our workshop was held in Covewood, a room adjacent to the resort's restaurant, which turned out to be a lively brunch spot that morning. A group of guests--including young mothers and their babies--were seated just feet away, enjoying mimosas and lively conversation. Their enthusiasm for brunch was commendable, but it became impossible to hear our presenter.
When I approached the host and asked if he could ask the guests to lower their voices, he responded, "I can't tell our guests where to sit." As the noise level continued to rise, one of our 50+ attendees politely asked the group if they could lower their voices. Instead of a resolution, the women filed a complaint against our attendee--a move that was as surprising as it was ironic. The resort's ultimate solution? A fake boxwood divider. Nothing says "we care about your experience" quite like a decorative hedge.
Day 2 (12 PM): The Great Room Swap Debacle
Later that day, a colleague checked out of a much better room. Hoping to move out of my cramped space, I went to the front desk and asked if I could take it. The response? "That room is already booked."
Since check-in wasn't until 4 PM and the room hadn't even been cleaned yet, I was skeptical. Instead, I was told I could move to a room in Villa Soledad Tower. I followed instructions to call once I was packed so they could send bell service. When the bell attendant arrived, he had no luggage cart and greeted me with:
"I was just told to give you keys, but if you need help, I can help you."
I asked about the cart, to which he responded, "No one told me to bring one." At this point, I decided to just move my things myself. As I did, he added:
"Are you sure? I don't want you to complain that I didn't offer."
An odd comment from a hospitality worker, but at this point, nothing surprised me.
Once I settled into my new room, I discovered a quirky feature--every time the elevator moved up or down, the bedside lights flickered slightly. It was subtle, but noticeable enough to make me wonder if I had accidentally checked into a room with a built-in strobe light effect. Just another charming touch to an already unforgettable stay.
Day 3: The Mystery of the Vanishing Coffee
Mid-morning, I stopped by Mission Joe for coffee. After placing my order, I chatted with colleagues while waiting. A few minutes later, their drinks were ready. Mine was not.
More guests arrived, ordered, and received their drinks, while I continued to wait. Eventually, I went up to the counter where the same attendant who had taken my order asked if I wanted to place an order--as if I hadn't already done so. When I reminded her, she quickly remembered and said, "I already made it, someone must have taken it."
Trying to keep the moment light, I joked, "I know where they are, I'll go get my order back!" She smiled but instead of remaking my drink immediately, she prioritized the new couple who had arrived after me.
As she reached for the milk, I asked, "With almond milk, right?" to which she let out a sigh and said, "Ma'am, I remember your order well, and I have been doing this for a long time."
That comment, paired with her tone, made it clear I was an inconvenience rather than a guest. Rather than engage further, I took my coffee and left--disappointed but not surprised. Later, I asked my colleagues if they had mistakenly grabbed my drink. They showed me their orders--none matched mine. So what really happened to my coffee? We may never know.
Final Thoughts: Where's the Joy, Connection, and Belonging?
I have one more day and I can't wait to leave. Throughout my stay, what struck me most was the lack of genuine hospitality--the very thing that makes a resort memorable.