Not if they paid me
I would not stay at this hotel again if they paid me. During check-in, the clerk (who, like all employees referenced, shall remain nameless until the letter to the owner is sent) explained to me that the keys were "very sensitive" and should not be near my cell phone, credit cards, car keys, anything metal, etc. By the time I got upstairs my key didn't work. I used my cell phone to call the hotel and a maintenance man came up with two more keys. Those keys also didn't work. He let me in the room with his "skeleton" key card and advised me to have the desk make new ones. In total, the desk ended up making me six sets of keys, none of which ever worked. By the time Saturday evening came along, I was stopping by the front desk to be accompanied to my room to be let in. The staff clearly thought I needed lessons in how to swipe key cards -- despite my traveling 100 percent for work and key cards not being exactly neurosurgery -- but never thought there could be a problem with the door or the key programming system. (On one occasion of getting new keys, another guest on the 5th floor was having the same problem.) So not only were the staff members incapable of trying to solve an actual problem, but I got the extreme pleasure of being made to feel stupid by no less than five people.
Additionally, during check-in, the clerk also was extra pleased to offer me a room at the end of the hallway opposite the elevator so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the noise. How nice. Too bad my room bisected a party of 20 teenagers (they were asking other people to buy them alcohol, my guess is automatically 19-year-olds) who then decided it was a good idea to shout at each other across my balcony … all evening. I was out on Saturday night only until about midnight, but the frat party lasted until 4 a.m. To be fair, I couldn’t hear anyone while they were in their rooms -- the cross-balcony shouting stopped before I got back in that night. However, because there were so many of them, they didn’t stay in their rooms, and instead ran jovially back and forth all night. I’m not angry with the kids; the hotel obviously caters to spring breakers (large suites with lots of sleeping areas, kitchens suitable for those eating on a budget and drinking en masse, signs everywhere about knowing the inventory of every hotel possession, etc.) But if you’re going to sell someone on a quiet room, you should actually make sure it will be quiet.
Other little things that normally wouldn’t bother me added to the extreme frustration of this stay. These things include, but are probably not limited to: no screen on the hair dryer; no iron; no internet (“right now, but there’s a Starbucks a mile away”); no professionalism (I am not your niece, I am your client: smile when you greet me, don’t text while you help me, don’t talk to your friends who are just chilling on the lobby furniture while you’re waiting for the computer to respond, and don’t call me “babe”); a cold pool; a dingy, small, extra slow elevator; a dirty bathtub; dripping faucets; a shower rod too dirty to hang washed bathing suits; a phone book found not by any phone or in the end tables but on the top shelf of a hall closet; lack of a “do not disturb” sign (I saw one on another door handle, why don’t I get one, Mister We Inventory Everything Hotel?) which, of course, leads to housekeeping knocking on the door at 9 a.m.; a wasp nest on the corner of the building (my balcony was second from the end); a balcony door that wouldn’t stay shut without being locked, which I discovered when I came back in to a fly- and other insect-filled room and a wide-open door (signs anyone? better yet, repair?); TV remotes that don’t control the TVs (why are they there, then?).
Finally, upon check out, a simple “I hope you enjoyed your stay” or even just “Thank you” would have been much nicer than “Okay, you can go.”