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Hospitality Facilities Management

Hospitality Facilities Management
Read three of the following three case studies below:
? Dry Trini with a Twist
? The Ink is Gray
? Frank in the Tank
Answer each of the 3 questions following each case study in 150 words or more for a total of 450 words for each case study.

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FRANK IN THE TANK
Frank repeated, "Drain the pool? Are you kiddin'? This ain't a pool, John! It's
my damn office! Of course we're gonna drain it!" John knew he was wrong, that draining the pool was not in fact the proper thing to do, but, still, Frank was God in this subworld. What Frank said was law. But, what a mind-boggling hassle! The pool'd be closed for days! He blinked real slow and contemplated the interior of his eyelids, and, when he looked back out on the world, Frank was already heading for the doors. The man barked a final order over his shoulder. "Call me when the temp's 80 degrees."
And then he was gone. Bill Gardner was at the side of the pool with the little turd in front of him on the deck. He looked deflated somehow. Bill went, "Huh?" "You heard the man," John answered. "Drain it." John Fallin walked over to the swim-up bar where Jorgé and Nancy were talking in the service area. Both looked kind of rudderless, drifting as it were, not knowing what was happening within the context of their livelihoods. John didn't have any good news, that was for sure. "Hey," he began, "how're ya all doin' here?" Nancy said, "Fine." Jorgé responded with the raising of his brow. "What's up?" he asked, already skeptical. "We're gonna be shut down a couple days. I don't know what to tell you. I'm sorry. It's regulations, y'know. My hands are tied." Nancy seemed to take it in stride, but Jorgé didn't say much of anything and rather disgustedly went about the business of shutting down the bar. After
Nancy'd left, though, John came back and asked his bartender what the problem
was. The guy was visibly upset, throwing boxes around and whatnot.
John: "Hey, it's just 2 days at most, Jorgé. What's the problem?"
Jorgé opened the drawer on his cash register and started counting his
bank. He got halfway through his stack of 20s and seemed to arrive at some
sort of decision in his brain. He dropped the bills and turned to face his general
manager. "Listen," he said, barely able to contain himself. "Regulations, my ass. It's
not this being-shut-down business, though. Man, Lord knows I could use a couple
days off. It's Frank! That's the problem!" John screwed up his brows.
"Okay. What's wrong with Frank?" Jorgé shook his head and tried to calm down, then continued. "Every day, John! He's sittin' here all day! Gettin' hammered. Makes me
play some stupid card game with him when I should be doin' my job, y'know,
makin' some money! But all I do all day long is play stinkin' cribbage while he
gets loaded and then the man stiffs me on the comp! I'm sick of it, John!"
"He does what?" "Yeah, stiffs me. I says to him the first time, 'Hey, Frank-you need to sign this check so I can cash it out.' He goes, 'Hey, amigo, I don't sign for nothin'
here! I own this joint! I don't ever wanna see no checks, amigo!' And so every
day the guy ruins my business and I don't got nothin' to show for it! I'm sick
of it, John! The guy's the stinkin' owner! Who'm I supposed to talk to about it?
You? Hah! Well, I'll tell ya what, John. He calls me amigo one more time and
I'm gonna clock the ol' bigot!" There was a great sucking sound as the pool started draining. John wanted to slip into it and disappear. Didn't even care about the fact a turd had been in it a minute ago. No, John didn't care at all. He just wanted to disappear.
Through the pipes.
1.) Describe the possible consequences of the facilities management issues presented.
2.) How do these consequences affect the hotel stakeholders and the community?
3.) Why is it important to consider stakeholders and the community when making ethical decisions in business?

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DRY TRINI WITH A TWIST
Trini was real hung over. Just sitting there in the housekeeping office chewing
on glass, big balls of cotton between her ears. She'd messed up and she knew
it. Big time. "I don't know what to say," she said. Kathleen Lawhorn, as head of the housekeeping department, was there, of course, and she'd asked Heidi Bell to sit in as witness to the events that were about to unfold. As assistant general manager, Heidi had an interest in the proceedings, of course, and so it was on that Friday morning that Trini felt all small and sick as she faced these two. She was about to get fired, of course, and she knew it. But these two big shots just sat there shuffling papers as if a corporate merger were in the works. Like, just get on with it. Kathleen Lawhorn, or "Kat," as she was known familiarly in her department, was the first to open her all-important pie-hole. "Trini, I've asked Miss Bell to sit in for this meeting. You know Heidi,
don't you?" Trini nodded and wished she were bent over cleaning a toilet so she could
puke in it. God, she was still drunk. Great gobs of the night before were a mystery.
She'd blacked out. Couldn't remember nothin'. Just a blur of that Gabe dork from the front desk suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Just a shape. Nose hairs. Sort of remembered the lobby and Mr. Nose Hairs pushing them through the revolving doors. Or, was that a dream? Someone got sick in the elevator. Was that last night?
God, she couldn't remember. "I've spoken with Gabe from the front desk . . . and he described what went on last night." Kat cleared her throat, then continued.
"This is very serious business here, Trini. I hope you're aware of that."
"Uh-huh." That Heidi woman scribbled something in her notebook. Like she was a
court reporter or somethin'. Like maybe she was gonna sketch a likeness of her,
Trini wondered. What a bunch of bull. If they were gonna fire her, well, cut to
the chase. Get it over with so she could go back home and crash. "Like, am I gettin' fired or what? This is stupid." Heidi started paying attention now. Kat leaned closer across the desk. She said, "Excuse me? You think this is stupid here? I'll tell ya what's stupid, Trini. What's stupid is stealing keys to a room and partying there with all
your little friends. That's what's stupid, Trini." Trini made this whatever gesture with her hands and faded back in the chair. It was all her boyfriend's fault, that jerk. He was the one kept nagging at her to score a suite. All the time: Do this for me, baby! C'mon! Do that! All the damn time. The jerk. "Yeah," she admitted. "You're right about that. There's nothin' I can do about it now, though, y'know. Nothin' I can do." Trini wrapped herself in her own arms and stretched. As her back muscles flexed she felt the ribs adjust within her. They wanted to open up and spill their contents out on the floor. Like her soul was gazpacho. She felt like a bug to be stepped on. Felt like a bug. To be stepped on.
"I'm sorry, y'know. That's all I can say." That Heidi woman looked at her watch while Kat made a pained face at Trini and sighed real loud. It was hot in there. No air to speak of. Stunk like disinfectant and old rag mops. Trini supposed she wouldn't really be missing
any of that, of course, but she needed the bread. Needed to work. "Well, you're sorry," Kat acknowledged. "Okay, it's just that-" Heidi interrupted. "Where'd you get the card key? Who at the front desk issued you this key?" Trini glared at her. That smug pencil pusher. Wanted to slap her. Actually considered it a moment but that wouldn't look too hot on a job app, y'know, and she'd be having to send them out pretty soon, and so she just stayed there in her seat. Trini was getting fired, of course, and she knew that for a fact. But what they were really after was for her to trick on that Jimbo dude. The one
that gave her the key. They wanted her to trick on ol' Jimbo. "I whittled it from a bar of soap," Trini lied. "That what you wanna hear?" Trini laughed at her little joke but the two of them weren't amused. That Heidi woman in fact started putting her pen and her notebook and all that garbage back in this big black shoulder bag she'd had by her feet on the floor. Like she'd heard enough and was gonna split. Go get her fangs sharpened or somethin'. Like, so what? Kat said, "Listen, Trini, I gotta be straight with you. You need to knock off this attitude right now. You're gonna be terminated immediately if you don't tell us who issued you that room key." Terminated immediately? Wasn't that what this was all about? She was getting canned, right? Well, wait a minute . . . Trini began to see some light at the end of the tunnel. . .hmmm. Maybe she wasn't getting the boot. Maybe it was just that Jimbo guy they were all bunched up about. "Yeah? And what if I tell you? You sayin' I get to keep my job?" Heidi put her two cents in again: "You'll be suspended for 2 weeks. After that we'll reassess the situation and make a decision. Do you want to continue working here, Trini?" Hey, maybe this was gonna work out after all! "Sure, I do, Miss Bell. I love it here at FOI." "So, who issued you the key card?"
Trini spilt the beans. "It was Jimbo," she tricked. And, of course, that was that. The meeting was over. No more Trini.
1.) Describe the possible consequences of the facilities management issues presented.
2.) How do these consequences affect the hotel stakeholders and the community?
3.) Why is it important to consider stakeholders and the community when making ethical decisions in business?
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THE INK IS GRAY
After Dardina got written up for that wine fiasco, she was irate. The sous chef
figured she'd been unfairly signaled out because she was the lone woman, see,
and, more to the point, the lone black woman in the mix, and wasn't that just
typical of men? And though she knew it wasn't right to go over Chef Eric's head
and all, she assumed naturally that another woman, the assistant general manager,
Heidi, would be more sympathetic to her cause. Like, one write-up wasn't
that much of a big deal, but she'd been written up last year for tardiness-and
now this meant that she had two write-ups. . . . And one more meant that she
got the ax. It just wasn't fair! So when she entered the manager's office to complain
rather loudly about it, she was lucky that John and Heidi weren't there.
Sheri Eggmeyer looked up from a bagel and didn't know her from a hole
in the middle. "Yes? Can I help you?" "Where's Heidi?" Heidi was still at home reading the newspaper. John was out back on the pool deck watching workmen prep the south end for Frank's swim-up pool bar. Bill Gardner was there too for the groundbreaking as it were, in that his capacity as building engineer somehow required his presence, of course, because, well, nothing really got done around this joint if he didn't see to it himself. Or, so he thought. "I dunno, boss. Still think we should-a went with my cousin on this one. These fellas look like they don't know what they doin'." Bill's cousin was this fat guy who operated a "construction" company out of his claptrap garage. His name was Bill too, go figure. John couldn't imagine how a close-knit family such as the Gardners would independently, and, presumably of sound mind and body, perpetuate the gaffe that was naming two boys of nearabouts the same age, well, the same name, that being "William," of course, each born within 3 months of the other, naming them both Bill. Good grief. John tried to picture what it was like at Gardner family get-togethers, out in the sticks, with two Bills running around playing horseshoes or something. One fat, one skinny. Jeesh. Go figure. "Know what I mean?"
John looked sideways at his engineer and raised a skeptical brow. "Please, Bill," he droned, drawing the two words out like molten black taffy. Bill removed a toothpick from his shirt pocket and stuck it in his craw. "Hate to say I told ya so, that's all."
"Yes, Bill. Uh-huh. I've been warned." Bill shrugged and meandered over to the work site for closer inspection. A gander, as it were. Good ol' Bill Gardner. The Arizona hardtack Gardner clan. It'd been about a year ago when John first came in contact with Bill's cousin Bill. He'd given his building engineer some latitude in choosing a contractor
for some work they couldn't manage in-house. Namely, construction of a gazebo
on the north lawn. Yeah, he'd told Bill Gardner to manage the project himself,
initiate bids from local companies and so on and so forth, and blah, blah, blah,
and he was ultimately supposed to select the most able contractor with the lowest
bid. Pretty simple stuff, of course, least till John drove in for work one day
and saw fat Bill out there on the grass nailing two-by-fours together. Good grief.
Was like a three-ring circus: eight weeks of Bill's cousin Bill, the fat one, nailing
boards together and staring at project plans like they were written in Swahili.
That was the last time he'd given Bill Gardner any latitude. Heidi rolled the newspaper up and crammed it back inside the plastic bag it came in, then discarded the whole nightmare in a dumpster on the way to her burgundy Dodge Neon. Time to make the donuts. She got in and started the engine and split. Fifteen minutes later she was tooling past Cousin Bill's "gazebo" and it dawned on her that it resembled the leaning tower of Pisa, y'know, if it had perchance been fashioned out of rotten shantytown boards. She made a mental note to tell John about her revelation when they met
for the shift change. That "gazebo" was a constant source of agony for poor
John, every time he looked upon it. Time to make the donuts. Parked in the
usual spot and went in with her briefcase. Dardina was waiting for her at the
front desk outside the manager's office. She looked peeved. "You're just the person I'm lookin' for," the sous chef announced. Huh? What's this? It was a couple days later and John and Heidi were in the Oasis Room huddled over a table in the corner with Chef Eric. He looked like he'd swallowed a woodpecker. "Listen," he said, "I don't give a rat's ass if she's black. She was black when I hired her, she was black when I promoted her, and she was black when I wrote her up. The whole race issue is ridiculous. She could be green and I'd still want of course, each born within 3 months of the other, naming them both Bill. Good grief. John tried to picture what it was like at Gardner family get-togethers, out in the sticks, with two Bills running around playing horseshoes or something. One fat, one skinny. Jeesh. Go figure. "Know what I mean?"
John looked sideways at his engineer and raised a skeptical brow.
"Please, Bill," he droned, drawing the two words out like molten black taffy.
Bill removed a toothpick from his shirt pocket and stuck it in his craw.
"Hate to say I told ya so, that's all." "Yes, Bill. Uh-huh. I've been warned."
Bill shrugged and meandered over to the work site for closer inspection.
A gander, as it were. Good ol' Bill Gardner. The Arizona hardtack Gardner clan.
It'd been about a year ago when John first came in contact with Bill's cousin
Bill. He'd given his building engineer some latitude in choosing a contractor
for some work they couldn't manage in-house. Namely, construction of a gazebo
on the north lawn. Yeah, he'd told Bill Gardner to manage the project himself,
initiate bids from local companies and so on and so forth, and blah, blah, blah,
and he was ultimately supposed to select the most able contractor with the lowest
bid. Pretty simple stuff, of course, least till John drove in for work one day
and saw fat Bill out there on the grass nailing two-by-fours together. Good grief.
Was like a three-ring circus: eight weeks of Bill's cousin Bill, the fat one, nailing
boards together and staring at project plans like they were written in Swahili.
That was the last time he'd given Bill Gardner any latitude. Heidi rolled the newspaper up and crammed it back inside the plastic bag it came in, then discarded the whole nightmare in a dumpster on the way to her burgundy Dodge Neon. Time to make the donuts. She got in and started the engine and split. Fifteen minutes later she was tooling past Cousin Bill's "gazebo" and it dawned on her that it resembled the leaning tower of Pisa, y'know, if it had perchance been fashioned out of rotten shantytown boards. She made a mental note to tell John about her revelation when they met
for the shift change. That "gazebo" was a constant source of agony for poor
John, every time he looked upon it. Time to make the donuts. Parked in the
usual spot and went in with her briefcase. Dardina was waiting for her at the
front desk outside the manager's office. She looked peeved. "You're just the person I'm lookin' for," the sous chef announced. Huh? What's this? It was a couple days later and John and Heidi were in the Oasis Room huddled over a table in the corner with Chef Eric. He looked like he'd swallowed a woodpecker. "Listen," he said, "I don't give a rat's ass if she's black. She was black when I hired her, she was black when I promoted her, and she was black when I wrote her up. The whole race issue is ridiculous. She could be green and I'd still want to fire her. Race? You gotta be kidding. It's besides the point, John. She's got two write-ups, and now this." John kneaded his temples.
"We have to be careful here, Eric," Heidi said, filling the void. "I just think
maybe you're overreacting in this situation, y'know? Maybe we just need to step
back for a minute and consider things." "Consider things? C'mon, Heidi! She went over my head. How'd you like it if one of your subordinates went and complained to me about some action you'd taken? Like maybe if Tony Baloney said you were a lousy manager. How'd you like that, Heidi?" "Well," she began to reply, hoping another word would attach itself to that one. The wheels spun. John saved her the trouble. "I'll tell ya what, Eric," he said. "We got a situation here. It ain't gonna go away. I understand what you're dealing with. Believe me, I feel your pain." Eric snorted and Heidi burst into laughter.
"You feel my pain," Eric repeated. "Well, isn't that special." John smiled. He'd been relieved a couple days ago after this whole thing started and Eric told him he'd deal with the problem himself. Saved him the trouble, didn't it? Nah, but he'd been worrying about stepping on Eric's toes, meddling in his department and all, so when Eric said he'd deal with it John just figured the best thing to do was butt out. So, that's exactly what he did.
Now he was paying for it.

1.) Describe the possible consequences of the facilities management issues presented.
2.) How do these consequences affect the hotel stakeholders and the community?
3.) Why is it important to consider stakeholders and the community when making ethical decisions in business?

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