Hotel Liability After Baby Nibbles On Tiles: A Parenting Adventure in the Maldives
There’s nothing like a holiday in paradise, right? Just throw in a few palm trees, turquoise waters, and—oh, sharp wall tiles for your baby to snack on. Yes, you read that correctly. An anonymous OMAAT reader faced the kind of holiday nightmare you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. It involves a summer trip to the glorious Waldorf Astoria Maldives and, well, let’s see…a 13-month-old baby and broken tiles. Sound fun yet?
Baby’s Discovery: Not Ideal
So, here’s the setup: July 2023, a lovely couple jets off to the Maldives with their young son. Their villa? Not ready. So they get a temporary one, where they probably were promised whispering breezes and not the sound of their kid crying after swallowing shards of wall tiles.
The little family got hit by jet lag, and understandably, the parents dozed off without setting up a crib. Which turned out to be a regrettable decision, as they awoke to screams of their son who had unwittingly become a taste tester for the villa walls.
The Aftermath: A Doctor, A Report
After the incident, the on-site doc was on the case. The medical report stated the child was stable and free of alarming symptoms, but parents were instructed to keep an eye out. As if they weren’t already paranoid enough! Luckily, later on, pieces of tile turned up in a place you’d never expect—yes, that’s right, in a diaper.
Understandably, dad wasn’t thrilled. Surgically removing fragments wasn’t an option for a toddler, and lo and behold, the resort manager made reassuring noises about insurance coverage. If only the hotel’s word was worth more than a broken tile…
Playing the Waiting Game
Despite jumping through various bureaucratic hoops, the family’s attempts to get proper compensation were met with resounding silence from the hotel. Nearly two years of form-filling, selfies with insurance agents over Zoom, and endless emails led to…absolutely nothing. Turns out, an upgrade and a few spa treatments were all they got.
A Change in Management, A Change in Promises
Eventually, a new resort manager responded, revealing the insurance ruled no injuries occurred, and denoted the incident was dusted over with—let’s call it—a luxurious band-aid. The previous manager who had made spirited promises of reimbursement? No longer employed.
Feeling Shortchanged
Dad, understandably, feels like he’s been given the short end of the stick—or tile. “Given the seriousness of the incident…it’s difficult to understand how a claim could take two years to be declined on the grounds of no injury,” he asserts, feeling justifiably let down by the resort’s lackadaisical follow-through.
My Take: Seriously, Waldorf?
First off, breathe a sigh of relief because the young champ is doing fine. But really, this tale of woe leaves us pondering a couple of things:
- How accountable should the hotel be for allowing Crumbly McTileface into circulation, especially at sky-high luxury rates?
- What constitutes adequate compensation when what the family got was as useful as a chocolate teapot?
Legally speaking, I’m no expert—I’m more of a Val Seny ski resort kind of guy—but you’d hope a head-spinningly expensive hotel would ensure walls weren’t a threat. Sulking over whether they should’ve been snoozing while junior was crawling misses the point; this boo-boo could’ve unfolded while they were wide awake, simply momentarily distracted.
And about the “sweeteners” offered to make it all go away—an upgraded room and spa treatments? Insulting. If a comped stay was promised, it should’ve been delivered, not washed away with the tide when a new manager took the reins.
Let’s appreciate that a written promise would’ve held more water than verbal oaths, subsequently drowned by changes in management. It’s a sobering reminder to always get commitments inked, so you don’t end up debating who’s got the better truth.
Bottom Line: What Gives, Waldorf?
A dream holiday at Waldorf Astoria Maldives took a sharp turn when a baby played resident wall inspector. The incident, deeply unsettling and met with managerial lip service, remains unresolved. Two years on, one can’t help but wonder—is this how paradise takes care of its guests, or simply lets them slip through the cracks?
What do you think? Should the hotel dig deeper into their pockets, or is sticking to pre-checked “solutions” enough?