The meeting had ended, but the questions lingered. Yawa-Attah returned to her desk—not to wait, but to begin reframing what stewardship required. She opened a letter received from a junior finance officer at AGL. The subject line read: Guesthouse Allocation—Comparative Impact. It had been copied to Hospitality Associates. Though not intended for her team, it spoke volumes.
The figures were stark:
– Revenue loss from blocked rooms
– Staff overtime due to last-minute internal bookings
– Guest complaints logged under “access confusion”
– A line item labeled “Guesthouse Access—Internal Allocation”
These numbers confirmed what her team had sensed: the blocked rooms were not just symbolic—they were costly.
Later that week, she walked the guesthouse with Mr. Aanani. They paused at Suite 3—blocked again. A guest had requested it for a family reunion. The booking was declined. “We’re not just losing revenue,” she said. “We’re losing rhythm.” Aanani nodded. “And reputation.”
That evening, she sat at her desk and opened a new folder: Operational Stewardship—Access Protocols. She began drafting:
– A tiered access system for internal bookings
– A calendar buffer to protect public availability
– A clause-by-clause reflection on the management contract
– A note on tone: “Instructions must be routed through Hospitality Associates. Informality is not neutrality.”
She pushed aside the draft. ‘Not to be sent yet’, she muttered to herself, placing it beside the contract, the memo, and the journal. The reframing had begun—not to resist, but to restore.
She wrote in her journal: “Blocked rooms are like fallow soil. Not wasted. Waiting. But waiting must have purpose.” She sketched a diagram: rooms, rhythms, roots. The memo had spoken. The meeting had listened. Now, the stewardship would speak—not in protest, but in quiet proposal.
A couple of days after, unexpectedly, relief began to arrive—one letter at a time.
First, a copy of a query from the Central Bank to AGL surfaced. It concerned the guesthouse’s handling of foreign currency exchanges for Ghana cedis. Hospitality Associates responded, recommending a review of the current procedure:
– Monies received from guests by Hospitality Associates staff
– Handed over to an AGL staff member
– Passed to the AGL accountant
– Deposited into the AGL account
Yawa-Attah drafted a new position: Hospitality Associates would take full responsibility for collecting and depositing all foreign currencies into the AGL account, accepting sole liability for any losses or discrepancies.
Less than a week later, a response arrived. She read the words slowly—then again. Her eyes widened. A smile spread across her face as she reread: “…we share your sentiments about the need to review the process… We have scrutinized your proposals and recommendations and are pleased to inform you that the recommendations have been favorably considered. You may wish to implement them with immediate effect. We shall provide you a stamp of AGL as requested… We shall expedite action on the procurement of a currency counterfeit detector.”
Then came another letter—this time, in response to Hospitality Associates’ request for a loan to purchase an operational vehicle.
“…we have given your request consideration and are pleased to inform you that we are prepared to grant you an interest-free loan to purchase the said vehicle…” The terms of repayment were outlined over a three-year period. A cheque was enclosed for the full amount.
Yawa-Attah sat back in her chair. The rooms were still blocked. But the rhythm was returning. The tone was shifting. The stewardship was being heard.
“Sooner or later,” she whispered, “the handling of reservations will be resolved.” She closed her journal and smiled. “I should give myself a treat,” thinking about the ice cream in her freezer.
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by the operational experiences and sectoral engagements of Hospitality Associates and its collaborators. While the narrative draws upon real industry contexts, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events is purely coincidental. Characters, locations, and scenarios have been fictionalized or amalgamated to serve educational and storytelling purposes. The intent is not to critique individuals or institutions, but to distill operational insight through dramatic narrative.