Housekeeping Didn't Come
Lessons from the road, the classroom, and the minibar.
Welcome to Housekeeping Didn’t Come — where hospitality, adventure, and a little chaos all check in for the night.
Hosted by Rob W. Powell, former casino exec, improv comic, mountaineer, and hospitality professor (aka the Indiana Jones of hospitality education), this podcast dives into the wild, weird, and wonderfully human side of the hospitality world. From luxury lodges to national park cabins, cruise ships to classroom chaos, we explore what it really takes to deliver unforgettable guest experiences—and what happens when things go hilariously off script.
Whether you're a student, a hospitality pro, a curious traveler, or just here for the stories, you'll find something to love. Expect candid interviews, bite-sized insights, unforgettable blunders, and the kind of wisdom that only comes from years in the trenches (and a few nights without housekeeping).
So grab a coffee (or a cocktail), and join Rob as he unpacks the business of making people feel welcome, even when the bed isn’t made.
Housekeeping Didn't Come
When Nature Calls: What Luxury Hotels Can Learn from National Park Lodges S1E4
Ever wonder what happens when the supply truck doesn't show up at a remote lodge? Or how staff handle a water main break when there's no maintenance team on speed dial? That's where the real hospitality magic happens.
The conventional wisdom suggests that sophisticated urban hotels should teach their operational excellence to rustic adventure properties. But after years in both worlds, I've discovered the reverse is often true. Those scrappy national park lodges—with questionable plumbing, zero Uber drivers, and non-existent WiFi—might actually be hospitality's most innovative teachers.
In remote operations, adaptability isn't a buzzword—it's survival. When the kitchen runs out of eggs, staff become part MacGyver, part Gordon Ramsay. These properties excel at "rustic luxury"—not by promising marble bathrooms, but by delivering authenticity and managing expectations brilliantly. Their staff cultures, forged through shared housing and genuine community, create service that big hotels spend millions trying to train into existence.
Perhaps most revolutionary is their approach to imperfection. Take the story of Jesse, who transformed a water outage disaster into "Creek Chic"—complete with biodegradable soap, hand-drawn maps to the best bathing rocks, and s'more kits to sweeten the deal. Before long, guests were creating their own hashtag and treating the mishap as a highlight rather than a failure.
These wilderness wisdom principles—adaptability, authentic experiences, strong staff communities, and embracing imperfection with creativity—belong in every hotel, from roadside motels to luxury flagships. Want to elevate your hospitality game? Look beyond the bright lights to the places where cell service fails but human connection thrives.
Welcome to Housekeeping Didn't Come where hospitality, adventure and business collide. I'm Rob Powell, entrepreneur, adventure traveler and hospitality instructor at the University of Arkansas Hospitality Management Program. Okay, so today we're flipping the script. Most of the time we think about how the hospitality industry can bring its big city knowledge to rustic adventure operations, bring its big city knowledge to rustic adventure operations. But let me tell you, some of the best operational lessons I've learned have come from remote national park lodges that have no Wi-Fi, limited cell service, questionable plumbing and exactly zero Uber drivers In other words, my kind of place. So what can the big, shiny flagged hotels learn from these little rugged operations? Frankly, a lot.
Speaker 1:First of all, adaptability is not optional. In national parks you don't get your daily Cisco deliveries If the truck didn't make it. Guess what? The kitchen staff becomes a combination of MacGyver and Gordon Ramsay. Macgyver, by the way, is a reference to a 1980s show with a guy who can put a paper clip in a rubber band and make a bomb. He was pretty resourceful. Now, if you're out of eggs, you use powdered. If you're out of steak, you feature trout. Guest is allergic to trout. Welcome to the salad bar.
Speaker 1:In large hotels, when things go wrong, we often default to call corporate. In remote lodges, you solve the problem. Hospitality students hear me on this. Creativity and flexibility are your most valuable tools. The second lesson is deliver rustic luxury, and I say that with quotes. In other words, manage expectations with excellence. Now, guests don't expect the four seasons when they arrive at a National Park Lodge, but they do have expectations Clean rooms, friendly welcoming staff, memorable experiences above all, and hopefully functioning plumbing optional, but it's usually appreciated. And don't let me forget to tell you about a African hotel that I stayed at. It was amazing. It's all about the experience over opulence. Now, hotels that master this principle can actually improve guest satisfaction by focusing on authenticity rather than constant amenity upgrades.
Speaker 1:Now, this point is a big one for me. Staff culture can make or break you. National park employees often live on site for the season in shared housing, sometimes eating in the same cafeteria as guests. They become a community. Now, when that staff culture is healthy, service soars, it's almost family time. When it's toxic, good luck. Now, big hotels often underestimate how powerful community building can be for retention, morale and the guest experience. It is extremely important to focus on this culture and cultivate a very good, healthy, one Side note here. If you want drama, forget reality TV. Try working a summer in a National Park employee dorm.
Speaker 1:The last item I want to point out is guests aren't looking for perfection. Here's a secret Many guests actually enjoy when things go slightly wrong, as long as you handle it well and with authenticity. We're all human. It brings you kind of into the fold when something goes wrong and you're dealing with it. So if a moose blocks the trail, that's extremely memorable. The power went out for 20 minutes. You now have a candle lit adventure. The Wi-Fi is down. Assuming you have Wi-Fi, it's family bonding time. Let me tell you a real quick story here. So picture this.
Speaker 1:It's peak season at a central lodge in northern Minnesota, one of their state parks Think timber beams, creaky floors, wi-fi so weak might as well be Morse code. One July morning, just as the sun was hitting that Instagrammable glow on the lake, the main water line decides it's had enough. Boom, no running water, not even a trickle. No showers, no flushing toilets, no way to make coffee, which is arguably the real emergency. Naturally, the guests start gathering like it's the Oregon Trail, confused, cranky, clutching shampoo bottles and wondering if this is all part of the quote-unquote rustic experience. That's when our hero, the front desk associate, jesse, I believe, was his name steps in.
Speaker 1:Jesse, who was in his early 20s, on his second summer at the lodge and equipped with a degree in interpretive dance and an unshakable sense of humor. Without missing a beat, jesse rang the old dinner bell, normally reserved for calling guests to the pancake buffet, and announced Ladies and gentlemen, due to an unplanned collaboration with Mother Nature, we're offering a special today Cold Creek bathing experience now with complimentary eco-soap and a full trailhead directions. And he meant it. Jesse and a couple of the other staffers quickly set up a little quote-unquote spa station in the lobby Towels stacked on an antique sled, bars of biodegradable soap tied with twine and a pinecone tag that read Clean Consciously. A chalkboard sign said Showers, nah, nature Bath. He handed out hand-drawn maps of the stream nearby, recommended rock number four as the best seat in the house and even passed out s'mores kits to ease the sting. Before long, guests were laughing, grabbing towels and heading out to bathe like it was 1842. A couple even came back bragging about spotting some wildlife while rinsing their hair. By the time the plumber arrived four hours late and mildly terrified of a crowd revolt, the guest had already created a hashtag Creek Chic.
Speaker 1:The lesson you can't control plumbing, but you can control the story, and sometimes all it takes is a bar of soap, a sense of humor and someone brave enough to turn the catastrophe into a campfire lore. The key here is managing recovery with humor, care and great communication. Now these lessons apply directly to the mainstream hospitality industry. You want to deliver unique experiences. You want to build strong staff culture and get creative. When things go sideways, embrace the imperfection as part of the story. Adventure hospitality may feel like a niche, but its principles belong everywhere. Next time we'll dive into something a few people talk about the business side of running remote adventure operations. Thanks for joining me.