At the best of times, travel presents challenges. Being forced from our home in the middle of the work week unless we wanted to endure two days of no running water, didn’t provide the best start to the trip. We decided to make the best of things and booked a condo in a time share that came with my husband when we married. Translation: I didn’t sign up for the thing, I’m not entirely sold on being a time-share ‘owner.’ My husband has come to share my feeling, but we haven’t taken the time to figure out how to sell our membership. Add in that the resorts are usually nice and you’ll understand our love-hate relationship with the time-share.

We arrived late in the day, and the rest of the family, myself plus our son and daughter waited in the car while my husband checked in. And waited. And waited. He came out finally, and I learned that he’d been pressured into attending a meeting the next day to explain a change in the time-share ownership. My sweet husband, I should mention, is a softy. To be fair, he also genuinely wanted to find out about the change.

A sign in the elevator read ‘excuse our dust’ and explained that the building was undergoing renovation. We emerged on our floor to paint fumes, paint-cloths taped over the hallway carpeting, and numerous other signs of construction. In fact, most of the floor seemed to be undergoing renovation.

The condo unit was presentable inside, if a little worn, and the paint fumes didn’t follow us inside. We were all hungry, so I set about making supper and discovered that I’d forgotten part of my supplies. The front desk receptionist interrupted with a phone call to inquire how we liked the unit and invite me to the meeting with my husband. Translation: To sell us anything, they would need my signature as well as my husband’s. My suspicions about the new management increased.

Dinner progressed, and we began to relax. After a quiet evening, we slept well. My husband and son went to the meeting while I remained in the unit in an attempt to salvage something from my work day. I couldn’t focus enough to write, but there are always small tasks to do.

The phone rang, telling me my absence at the meeting had been noted. I ignored the summons and continued working.

The phone rang again, and I began to feel hunted. This time I picked it up and put it down on the cradle again to send the message to leave me alone.

The phone rang a third time.

Our check-out time was approaching, and with my husband and son nowhere in sight, my daughter and I packed up their belongings along with our own. We carted them to the car, then went for a walk on the beach. I picked up an interesting piece of driftwood and my daughter tried to spot crabs. We left the beach and followed a path beside the road.

A bearded man with a stout dog that looked more bear than dog approached us. He didn’t pull his dog’s leash in to keep it from reaching us, so I stepped onto the shoulder of the road in an attempt to avoid contact. I love dogs, and this one seemed friendly, but we were strangers coming into the vicinity of this dog’s owner.
The man lengthened the leash and stood with a posture that indicated we should admire his pet.

The bear, fortunately, greeted us mildly and let me know what people are for by nudging my hand when I stopped petting her. The man, who much resembled the dog, seemed to have merged personalities also. “She says I’m an Akita,” he explained on the dog’s behalf. “She says I’m twelve years old.” In similar fashion, he went on to explain how he acquired his pet by driving through snow and how the dog killed an opossum by severing its spine.

By now, I was sidling away. “Enjoy your day.”

The man nodded and moved on.

We walked a little farther, enjoying the ripple of waves and the sunlight on the water, but then decided to head back. My husband would surely be looking for me by now, but there was no sign of him in the car or condo. I let myself back in to look for him, plus I’d forgotten to leave the key on the kitchen counter. I had the feeling that if I tried to turn it in at the front desk, a salesperson would descend on me. I heard my husband’s voice while I was washing my hands after petting the dog. He explained that when he’d mentioned that he needed to pack up the resort had given him an extended check-out period, and that there was no need to rush.

My instinct warned me not to believe that, but he was adamant, so I sat down and rested from our walk. My husband explained that the time-share company had offered us a chance for more credits and other benefits at a cost of over $16,000.

The knock on the door had me jumping to my feet at once. “I’m not talking to them.” I went into the bedroom and shut the door. Sure enough, a salesperson had come to call. I sat in the bedroom, waiting for her to go while deciding that manners were overrated. Fortunately, she didn’t persuade my husband to come in and get me.

It occurs to me now that the man with the dog had something in common with the high-pressure sales people at the resort. Both wanted something from me and ignored my attempts to avoid them. I succeeded in one instance and didn’t do so well in the other. It’s hard to make life’s lessons stick sometimes, but I’m improving. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have escaped either.