For Hospitality Associates, a hotel management company committed to excellence, recruitment was never just about filling roles. It was about finding representatives—individuals who would embody the company’s values, learn eagerly, work hard, and contribute meaningfully to the team. The terrain was challenging. The standards were high. But they were ready to train.
The recruitment team, led by Mr. Aanani and Yawa-Attah, joined forces with Kojo Abbray, a seasoned human resource specialist with a keen eye for talent. Together, they crafted a rigorous process that would test not just skills, but character.
The conference room at Riviera Beach Hotel had never felt so sacred. The windows were flung open to let in the sea breeze, and the chairs—borrowed from the banquet hall—were arranged in a circle, not a line. Mr. Aanani and Yawa-Attah had agreed: this would not be a grilling. It would be a gathering.
Applications were sorted into three categories:
– Supervisors
– Front of House Personnel
– Back of House Personnel
Each envelope bore a telephone contact, and within two days, interview dates and times had been scheduled and communicated to the 60 selected few. Now, the room waited.
The First Interview-Kwame walked in; he was applying for a food and beverage supervisory role. He wore a crisp short-sleeved shirt tucked into tailored trousers and carried himself like someone who had led teams but still knew how to listen. His resume was modest, but his story lingered.
“I once managed a guesthouse where the water ran out during a wedding weekend,” he said. “I didn’t panic. I walked to the nearest compound, negotiated access, and paid for every bucket. The bride never knew.”
Mr. Aanani nodded slowly. Yawa-Attah scribbled a note: “Grace under pressure.”
Kwame’s instinct for operational improvisation and guest protection marked him as a candidate for further grooming in food and beverage management.
As the interviews progressed, the team encountered Lydia, a personal secretary with a flair for administrative challenges. Her answer to a question about supporting a junior staff member showed empathy and wisdom beyond her years. “I’d offer a listening ear and help them find their footing,” she said. “Sometimes, all someone needs are someone to believe in them.”
Lydia made the impression required to serve as administrative secretary and a front desk supervisor, ‘wearing two hats’ and working directly with Yawa-Attah.
Among other supervisors chosen were hands-on personnel in food production and housekeeping management.
On the second morning, ten candidates arrived for Front of House roles. They were ushered into the conference room together and invited to sit in the circle. No one was told who was evaluating whom.
Yawa-Attah stood and smiled gently. “Let’s begin with a simple exercise. You’ve all traveled far. Now imagine we are guests arriving after a long journey. Greet us”, she said to the interviewees.
One by one, they rose and addressed the group. Some offered rehearsed pleasantries. Others stumbled. But Daniel, seated between two more confident speakers, simply stood and said:
“Welcome. You’re safe here. Let me take your bags.”
It wasn’t performance. It was presence.
Then came a second exercise:
“Pair up. One of you is the guest. The other, the receptionist. Switch roles after two minutes.”
The circle became a stage. Laughter bloomed. Hesitations softened. Mr. Aanani scribbled notes not just on words, but on tone, posture, and recovery.
By the end, three candidates had emerged—not just for their polish, but for their poise under peer observation.
That afternoon, the chairs were rearranged again. This time, twelve Back of House applicants entered—kitchen porters, stewards, maintenance hopefuls. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and anticipation.
Kojo Abbray introduced the task: “We’re simulating a Sunday morning. The fridge has developed a problem and is not functioning. The chef is late. What do you do?”
Instead of answering individually, they were asked to discuss as a group. The circle pulsed with ideas—some wild, some wise.
George, quiet until then, leaned forward.
“I’d move perishables to the ice chest in the bar, then call the technician. If he’s delayed, I’d ask the chef to adjust the menu.”
It wasn’t textbook. But it was thoughtful. Funny, yet practical and a demonstration of being loyal.
They marked him for training.
Then came a final prompt: “What does dignity look like in the back of house?”
The answers varied—clean uniforms, respectful tone, readiness to serve. But one young woman said, “Dignity is knowing the guest may never see you, but still feeling proud of what you do.”
The circle held her words like a prayer.
Two more followed—each with stories, not just answers. One had once stayed behind after a shift to help a colleague finish folding linen. Another had memorized the names of every guest at her previous job, just to make breakfast feel personal.
Mr. Aanani closed his folder. “We’ve found the first thread.”
Yawa-Attah nodded. “Now we begin to weave.”
By the end of the third day, the circle had done its work. It had revealed not just skills, but spirit. Not just answers, but instincts.
They didn’t just hire staff. They began weaving a culture.
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.