The Warmth of a Hug
When both Seda employees and guests were locked down, the hotel became their home and they became each other’s family
Rosalie Rosales, 32, is a front desk supervisor of Seda BGC.
I have a five-year-old son. Being a single mom is difficult, but my parents have always been there for me. Then, the Extended Community Quarantine (ECQ) was declared—and my world turned upside down.
I chose to stay at Seda Hotels BGC through the lockdown. It was painful and scary to be away from my family, but my 71-year-old father is immuno-compromised. He has pancreatic cancer, and had surgery days before the lockdown. I couldn’t even enter the house, and would only go home to drop off the supplements I bought for him. To protect my family, I had to stay away from them.
Rosalie’s videocalls with her son and father helped relieve the homesickness. She is very close to her parents. Even if they are physically apart, these calls help her feel they are “there” for each other.
I missed my son. I missed my parents. But as front desk supervisor, I interacted with a lot of people, including guests and my colleagues. We became each other’s support system. The lockdown had cut us off from our loved ones and the lives we were used to, but the hotel became our home and we became each other’s family.
#AyalaCitizen Diary: The Seda employees have always been close, but bonds deepened further during the lockdown. They shared meals, rooms, and unforgettable milestones—like the day they waited for their COVID-19 test results.
Most of our guests at Seda at that time were OFWs and seafarers.
I found a mother figure in Mrs. Fernando, who was stuck in Manila because her flight to the US was cancelled. Mrs. Fernando had a medical condition and could not leave her room. She had dietary restrictions that we had to accommodate. It must’ve been very frightening for her to be sick, alone, and far away from home.
She would always call me to her room. Sometimes, she would ask me to buy medicines or food for her. Sometimes, she would call early in the morning just to tell me that she was afraid of what could happen. I did my best to reassure her that she is safe at our hotel, under our care.
“She would always call me to her room. Sometimes, she would call early in the morning just to tell me that she was afraid of what could happen.”
A happy despedida
Eventually, the US Embassy was able to help her get a flight. Mrs. Fernando called me to her room for one last request: a breakfast of tuyo and salted eggs. Because we didn’t have these in the hotel, I asked my parents to buy the ingredients and had them delivered here at the hotel. Mrs. Fernando was so thankful.
Farewell request. Bought at the market by Rosalie’s family, cooked in the Seda kitchen, and shared in their last meal together—this is a plate full of love
We were happy that Mrs. Fernando could finally be reunited with her family, but we were also sad to see her go. Somehow, the entire team had become attached to Mrs. Fernando. She was a mother to all of us, giving us advice and telling us stories when we were sad. But when she left, we couldn’t even hug her. I believe she helped us more than we helped her.
There’s no place like home
I was finally able to go home last June 2 after rapid testing of frontliners at the hotel showed that I was negative for COVID-19. I cried when I saw my son. My mom cooked my favorite caldereta. My dad looked so happy to see me. And although I used to call them three times a day during the lockdown, nothing could beat the hugs I received when I arrived. I told them all about my Seda experience and how, despite the difficult times, I was able to find a second family in my colleagues, in our guests.
Family meals. “After long shift hours, kumakain kami all together ng mga ka-trabaho ko sa taas,” says Rosalie. “Toka-toka kami. Kung magluluto ang isa, ang iba naman taga-hugas ng plato.”
The best service we give our guests is our assurance that we will be there for them when they need us. Sometimes, they just want someone to talk to, to tell them that there’s hope amid this crisis. I guess, at this time, all we need is malasakit. # — As told to Rhys Buccat
PUBLISHED ON JULY 13, 2020
