What If The Money Sucks But The Payoff Is Outstanding?

If you never compromise, your ego is a dumbass and you're leaving miracles at the door.

If my name was Forbes and I offered you $100.00 USD today, would you fly to Jamaica and spend an afternoon touring a hotel for me?

3 things you should know before deciding:

• You’ll have to pay for your own flight and expenses.

• After the tour, you’ll be required to sit down and write a review of your experience.

• Your name won’t be attached to the review in any way. No credit is given, whatsoever.

Are you in?

Or are you from the school of, “Screw that, I’ll never work for less than I’m worth!”?

Let’s say you turned down the hundred dollars and never went to Jamaica. No harm, no foul, you’re none the wiser. You’ll certainly never find out who did take the offer and how it went for her.

But I’m privy to the incredibly fortuitous events that resulted because she was me. I took the offer. Call me a sucker…or maybe not, but this is how it played out….

In many ways, I used to consider myself one of the luckiest travellers alive. But truthfully, luck had nothing to do with it. Grit and gumption had everything to do with it.

I maintained my own destination blog for ten years and through that blog, I learned I could trade my expertise and web space for anything I wanted, including money. However, one of the smartest things I learned is that money isn’t always the big payoff.

In this case, my reputation as a Jamaica-holic earned me access to a place where average travellers can’t afford to breathe the air unless they make it a bucket list goal and sell their firstborn to pay for it.

I would have never set foot inside that property if I hadn’t accepted the hundred-dollar deal. I will be forever grateful to Forbes for giving me the opportunity to become WOKE.

Woke to the fact that it really is about who you know.

And woke to the fact that at least one place on earth has no qualms about charging $500.00 USD for a single shot of rum. 😮

After Forbes initiated a connection between me and the resort, the hotel manager surprisingly one-upped the magazine and offered me several days on the property. My afternoon delight instantly became a 3-day fantasy ride.

Here’s the thing. If you’re representing an outfit as distinguished as Forbes, a resort might assume you’re some sort of Nobel prize-winning travel writer. 😂

They have no idea your suitcase is full of old cutoffs and Walmart flip-flops. They have no clue how deep you had to dig into your closet (and your soul) to find dresses suitable for highfalutin’ resort life.

Image by author - K. Keller

I had never been much of a resort girl. My first love was always helping travellers find the most bang for their buck.

But then, I passed through the gates of the Forbes resort. A place where you’ll get plenty of bang….for copious amounts of bucks.

Being sent to Half Moon Resort as a writer was all upside — there were NO downsides to the job except leaving when it was finished.

I realized within the first ten minutes that gushing over grandeur would become a regular occurrence. I knew it from the moment my bellman escorted me to my “cottage.”

This cottage was bigger than my actual Canadian home and came complete with a private pool and its own golf cart. I gotta tell ya, neither my golf cart nor my rental car moved in three days. I had no desire to get anywhere faster than a leisurely saunter here.

My actual cottage - Image by author

Inside were wall-to-wall windows—so many that a housekeeper came each day to open and close the shades.

The cottage housed more sofas, settees, and plush chairs than one person could ever sit on, and an overdone Victorian king-sized bed. Helloooo, Bridgerton!

Slippers and a robe laid at my bedside each evening, treats on my pillow, turn-down service accompanied by soft, ambient music piped in from the heavens above, and champagne on ice.

This was by far the swankiest travel writing gig I’d ever experienced.

My living room - Image courtesy of Half Moon Resort

The awkwardness of being on the resort as a solo traveller kicked in the very first evening with my first dining experience. It was a romantic, candle-lit, Italian bistro. The ambiance felt very coupley and I would be dining alone.

Upon arrival, the hostess asked for my room number and then immediately started behaving as though a resort-wide memo was attached to my account.

“Alert the town crier! The Forbes lady is here! Sound the trumpets and rolleth out the red carpet!”

And red carpet it was. Complete with extra doting wait staff and a tableside visit from the head chef. I no longer felt awkward, I felt like a friggin celebrity. All eyes were on me and I know the commoners (😂) wondered who I was.

This same type of behavior continued throughout my three-night stay. It was like Mr. Deeds everywhere all the time. Butlers, housekeepers, and waiters silently floated in from all angles offering me treats and prizes. My ego soared.

But I couldn’t help wondering how my treatment might differ if I wasn’t the Forbes woman.

What if I was just a regular guest?

On Saturday evening, I attended the manager’s cocktail party, which was open to all guests. This weekly soiree included complimentary cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, and seated teaser massages.

As I watched the GM make his rounds through the crowd I observed him treating every single guest the same way he’d been treating me. With warm, welcoming gestures, genuine conversation, and addressing each of them by surname.

The special treatment wasn’t just for me. It was the way they treated everyone. None of us were commoners; we were all royalty.

I was awestruck by the level of hospitality and professionalism oozing out the cracks and edges of this place. The staff were exceptional and seemed to genuinely love their jobs.

As a privileged Canadian, I feel like it’s my duty to find out if resort workers in developing countries are paid fairly and are happy with their jobs. So, I asked them.

This was the first resort I’d ever reviewed where the vast majority of employees work there as a career, not just a job. Some had been there for up to twenty years, which spoke volumes about the quality of the establishment.

During my stay, I also interviewed several guests and was delighted to hear that many of them had made Half Moon their home away from home for decades.

Even their piece of the Caribbean Sea is exceptional. Image by author.

On the morning of my departure, I felt a genuine sense of loss leaving Half Moon, probably because I had made so many worthwhile human connections and knew I’d never see those people again. I couldn’t afford to.

Shortly after checking out, I sent a personal email thanking the manager once more. I had now bypassed the Forbes connection and was in a direct relationship with the man in power. I knew I wanted to keep this door wide open…just in case.

His reply stated that I was welcome back at any time. All I had to do was get in touch.

After submitting my nameless, faceless, hundred-dollar Forbes article, I began hammering out my own resort romance novel. It became the first and ONLY four-part mini-series in the history of my travel blog.

🍹🍹🍹

One year later…

I’d returned to the island to write three new reviews and thought it would be fun to cash in on my open invitation at Half Moon. To be honest, I figured after a whole year I would have been long forgotten. But I contacted the manager anyway.

Again, I was blown away. He was indeed a man of his word.

All I had asked for was access on a Saturday evening to enjoy the jazz band and relive the romance I’d felt one year earlier.

Clearly, the man loved to outdo himself. Not only was I cordially given entry, but I was completely set up for the entire 24 hours that followed.

All liquor included, dinner at The Sugar Mill (home of the $500.00 rum shot), a private suite in the owner’s wing, and Mother’s Day brunch the next morning.

This resort is NOT all-inclusive. Those 24 hours racked up well over $1000.00 in comps.

I was no longer the Forbes woman; I was just Kristi. I had nothing more to offer the resort, yet I was still doted upon just as hard as the first time. They made it obvious that I was an important member of the Half Moon family.

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This story was my long and luxurious, roundabout way of saying, do you remember that $100.00 in the beginning? No? Me neither. I probably spent it on duty-free Appleton rum.

But six whole years after the Forbes review, I’m still over here gushing about the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that hundred dollars gave me.

To all the writers out there who vehemently state they’ll NEVER work for less than they’re worth, I say….GOOD! Because you’re leaving the real opportunities on the table for the rest of us.

I’ll never be ashamed to tell anyone I was only paid a hundred dollars to be treated like a million bucks.

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Have you ever settled for less only to have it morph into something completely different and WAY better than what you’d originally settled on? If so, we need to know about it. Drop it in the comments below.