Post-Pandemic Wasteland

Pier 39 during Covid-19 lockdowns, March 2020. Photo by Laura-Del from San Francisco, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Yay! Finally! Lockdown is over! Travel! Fun! Adventure!

That was how I felt after a year and half  of isolation. My Before Times had been filled with an active job and travel — both for business and pleasure. What happened on this trip, however, wasn’t what I was expecting. I wasn’t exactly sure what I had envisioned, but this wasn’t it.

This particular foray wasn’t specifically for me or about me. I choose neither the destination nor the agenda. I wasn’t the bride at this wedding nor the corpse at the funeral — none of it was about me. I was a strap-hanger on a spousal business trip. My career became one the many victims of the pandemic, so rather than telling people I am an unemployed bum living off my long-suffering wife, I have just embraced the retired label. My wife made her arrangements and I simply had to book a ticket for the same flights.

We flew into a Midwestern city, grabbed a shitty, overpriced rental car and drove to what had been a thriving, full-service hotel before the pandemic. We know this because we had stayed there a couple years ago. It was once one of those easily recognizable Embassy Suites that was remodeled and renamed during the lockdowns. They had removed the plastic flower boxes that had once been visible along every hallway in the open-lobby design while the water features in the public areas were gone — victims of their onerous maintenance requirements.

But something looked odd even before we walked up to the reception desk. As we entered the parking lot, the first thing we noticed was the abject lack of care for the landscaping of parking lot islands, the roadside entry monument, and foundation shrubs. Dead trees, overgrown shrubbery, and fading signage told a tale even as we drove onto the property. The parking lots had weeds growing from cracks in the pavement and two neglected shuttle busses with faded logos and rusting wheels sat forlornly in a farther lot. The website said they were not offering the shuttle service we had once used to get from the airport and local eateries — hence the current need for a rental car.

When we approached the port cochere we noticed some paper trash and a discarded hospital mask in driveway. There was neither valet nor bellman to greet us as there had been last time. I looked at my wife and asked if she received confirmation of our stay as the place looked closed from the outside. She assured me she had spoken to a clerk for the booking.

As we checked in, we asked after one of my wife’s perks for her frequent use of this hotel chain: access to their club lounge. This boon was once known for a free, hearty, hot breakfast and an evening reception with complimentary wine and beer and heavy hors d’oeuvres. The desk clerk said we were authorized access, but she couldn’t say whether or not they would have snacks each evening. The free drinks have been relegated to the Before Times. While we were there, there were never any evening snacks except for some yogurt cups in a beverage refrigerator. The fancy coffee machine had a sign on it: out of order. The lounge was dark in the evening. The first day they did have free chilled bottles of water in the lounge, but those were gone by Day 2 never to be restocked during the rest of our stay.

The restaurant at the hotel had closed down at the start of the pandemic and has yet to reopen. As we looked around, we saw why. There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. We only saw a few other guests. It was a ghost town. They opened the remodeled bar from 4:00pm to 10:00pm each day, but we looked over the balcony as we returned from dinner each evening to see a lonely bartender watching TV while he oversaw a line of unoccupied chairs and high-top tables.

Along with other post-pandemic changes, we weren’t offered daily service. If we needed fresh towels, bed linens, or little shampoo bottles, we had to notify the front desk who would send some up from housekeeping. We make our bed up every day at home, so we just transferred that routine to this hotel stay. It wasn’t a major inconvenience, but we had always appreciated daily room servicing. When they began to pitch you extra points for eschewing daily room servicing a few years back, we always turned down the points in favor of a freshly made-up room when we returned from work. It now looks like this traditional hotel offering may never return.

I am seeing many such changes in my cybersecurity profession. Conference organizers are claiming “We Are Back!”  Well, they may be offering in-person sessions again, but like the hotel, it will be a very different experience. The pandemic has reset so many expectations that we had taken for granted. Many colleagues and friends have told me in spite of vaccinations and new cleaning measures, they don’t plan to return to these venues for at least another year. I am not sure why they have determined a year is the standard, but I have heard it now many times. Caterers had to find other jobs. Our local airport taxi service (a government-supported monopoly) has simply gone out of business. Hotels are offering far fewer amenities.

So even if your conference or training sessions claim they are back, the supporting infrastructure for these meet-ups has changed dramatically, if not disappeared entirely. No one offered us a discount for this truncated, lackluster post-pandemic experience. These new realities appear to now be baked-in to most business’ economic models and financial plans. In-person is out. Online is in. Is it a better system? It doesn’t matter. The pandemic response has created a new world with fewer personal services and amenities and changed priorities for businesses worldwide.

When will we really be back? I have no idea, but I wager it won’t be anytime soon.