I’m penning this from my hotel room in Pensacola, FL – where the floods have hit. 36 people have been reported dead and two of them have drowned in their cars only a few miles up the road from where I’m writing this. The ceiling of the mall I just got a pedicure at a few days ago has been destroyed and locals are fearing for their lives as roads are caving in and unexpectedly collapsing at random places.

I broke down this morning when recapping the events that transpired the night before to my mom, who lives 10 hours away, all because I couldn’t help but to wonder if any of the people looking for shelter were the ones my co-workers and I were told to turn away by the investment owner of the luxury hotel chain I work for. As individuals flooded into our sold out hotel property the evening prior, our concern was safety so we referred each and every person who walked in to a hotel nearby. One not affiliated with our brand, but one that was sure to be the safest property to get to from our location and the only one on this side of town known to have rooms left. Our franchise owner, however, happened to walk into our building in the midst of it all, ironically waiting for one of his friend’s private jets to land at our airport’s private landing dock – which he also owns.

He walked up to our desk, as we scrambled to print out in-house guest records — in the event that the flickering power decided to go out — and stated: “How often is the entire city sold out? Why are you guys referring people to another hotel not affiliated with us?” We smirked, gently, hoping that his concerns weren’t about to go into the direction we thought it would, but he followed up by telling us to “keep it in the family” and suggested that we only send individuals to his properties – which were 20-25 minutes away on the beach.

My heart immediately broke, as individuals came in. Noteably, the couple with the newborn baby and the blind and disabled man whose flight had been cancelled due to the severe weather. A cab ride to the beach would have easily been $30-$50 with the weather being as bad as it was. And the hotel prices on the island were $70+ more than the last inland property left with rooms. While some individuals took our preprinted directions to the beachfront properties that boasted ocean views, others snarled at us, letting us know that the roads had since reached 4-7 inches of rain just here in town.

So there he sat, catty-corner to our European designed front desks, interjecting in between guests and instructing us on how to better sell each one of his other properties. “Make the reservation for them while they’re here, so we can lock them in,” he stated in his most elementary voice. A suggestion that thankfully failed as guests wisely declined – not knowing how it would be humanly possible to cross the two bridges (one being a three mile one) that crossed over large masses of water.

Nine p.m. was upon us and the owner finally decided to pack up his laptop and tablet to leave. But before heading out to his vehicle he thanked us for being “rockstars” and reassured us that the storm would pass in the next thirty minutes.

Once he left, more and more individuals began coming into our doors asking for shelter. It was at that point that we handed each a blanket and told them “we’re sold out, but feel free to sleep wherever you’d like in here.” We were uneasy by the franchisees prior requests and after resurrecting the power for the third time my co-worker hugged me and said, “Goodbye, I’m not coming back.” Her son had been home with his aunt all night and the anxiety of whether or not he was okay had consumed her. Her farewell felt Titanic-y as did our lobby full of local residents, flight attendants, and pilots all laid out sleeping under our 400-thread count blankets and feather-filled pillows. It was a sight that could be deemed a major hotel liability but one that just felt morally right, considering the fact that people were drowning in their vehicles in search of shelter.

I turned the lights out in the lobby and sat in our empty restaurant. There, I couldn’t help but to think about my co-worker who left at the height of the storm just to make it to her 10 year-old, the franchisee who hadn’t called to check up on any of his employees, the night-shift who ended up walking to work after abandoning their vehicles in sinkholes, the greedy and racist mentality of Donald Sterling, and the words that will forever haunt me as I sat there without my family and with no safe way to make it home: “keep it in the family.”

Kimberly