2h (edited) • TALK
A Bad Weekend = Better Weekends
So, how was your weekend?
Well, let me tell you about mine.
Last week, we decided to get away for a couple of days while the weather held.
We saw a caravan advertised on a reputable holiday site, last-minute deal, beach location, and honestly, the photos looked stunning.
Saturday morning, up early to beat the traffic. Gorgeous day on the beach, feeling good, then we made our way to reception to pick up the keys, get directed to our caravan, and after this, we jumped back in the car to find it.
Put the key in, fiddled with the lock, opened the door — and honestly, I invented a whole new boarding process on the spot.
Checked In. 😰
Checked Out. 😳
F***ed Off. 🤬
Half an hour, that's all we lasted.
Stained, knackered, bits falling off it, and no, I'm not talking about me.
Because here's the thing — I wasn't putting up with it. Not for one second.
My kids' happiness comes first, full stop, no negotiation, so instead of sitting there making do, I did what I'd do with any plan that's just collapsed.
Stop defending Plan A.
Move to Plan B immediately and start building something better.
Straight back to customer services, understandably annoyed, and got: "The pictures are for illustrative purposes only."
Now, to me, illustrative means it gives you a fair idea of what you're getting — not a completely different reality with a kettle in it,
If I pitched a client like that, I'd be out of business by Tuesday, but you can judge for yourselves below.
That's not illustrative; that's lying with extra steps, and I haven't even mentioned the police car that apparently had the site on its patrol route. 🤣
So there I am, standing outside this caravan at 8pm, on my phone, refusing to accept "well, we've paid for it now" as an answer — because the girls had surprise surf lessons booked for the morning and I wasn't cancelling that for anyone.
Ninety minutes later, we're in a hotel ten miles down the motorway, all four of us crammed into one room on a stupidly warm night, but the girls slept fine. Staff were brilliant, sorted us a basic breakfast, and by 8am we were straight out the door to surf.
And here's the bit that actually matters.
I sat on that beach watching the girls get battered by wave after wave, coming up laughing every single time, and then it hit me. No, not the wave, although it was a bit of a wave of reality.
None of last night mattered anymore.
That refusal to settle the night before is exactly what got us here.
And this is the bit I come back to a lot, in business and everywhere else: it's never really about getting back to Plan A.
The people who do well are the ones who build something better from the wreckage rather than just patching the original plan back together.
We didn't need the caravan.
We didn't need the site, the amenities, any of it.
Sand, sea, maybe a fire going, that's genuinely us.
I'll be honest, I'm a bit gutted at myself that it took a shocking caravan, a misleading website, and one stubborn refusal to accept it, to prove that, but hey, 1 bad weekend = countless better weekends ahead, so I'll take that.
Now I'm gonna throw this out to you lot — when your Plan A falls apart, what's your instinct?
Do you default to damage control, or do you use it as licence to build something better than the original plan ever was?
Has a trip, a booking, a client, or a launch gone sideways on you, and what did you do with the wreckage?
Let me know how you turned a "disaster" into a dream and what you'd tell someone else to have in place for when it inevitably goes wrong. Drop your stories below. 👇
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A Bad Weekend = Better Weekends
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