Sweetheart Deal (2 page)

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“I'm sorry your husband
is feeling under the weather,” Alejandro said.

“Me too,” I said with crossed fingers. I wouldn't wish stomach discomfort on anyone, not even my
all-but
-former husband. However, I wasn't entirely unhappy about having my own private tour of the hotel property. Especially since Alejandro, with his thick brown hair, light brown eyes, and just shy of full lips, was the closest I was going to come to a date until Frank and I could officially
un-couple
.

But just then Frank reappeared from the men's room looking downright pasty. He seemed to regain a bit of color as he introduced himself to naturally bronze Alejandro, who, as I suspected, ran the vacation ownership operations for the resort. Frank, who made it a point to always be
camera-ready
, appeared to be on the mend while we did the necessary extra takes, had a quick
story day
wardrobe change, mulled over a script for the segment, and strolled across the lobby for the camera, past the veranda where the rehearsal dinner was to take place. We made our way over to the poolside café.

Frank did his part, admiring the grounds and abundant grandeur of the hotel. One glance at the pan of refried beans bubbling at the lunch buffet however, and whatever color had returned to his face drained.

He rushed away once more.

Alejandro and I found ourselves dining alone. We indulged in a pleasant poolside lunch of shrimp quesadillas and I had my first of what threatened to be a weekend's worth of the Hacienda de la Fortuna's signature
bottomless
mango margaritas.

The drinks went down a little too easily as Alejandro shared details about his youth, graduating with honors from the Universidad Autónoma de
Somewhere-in
-Mexico and working his way up in the resort business. His relaxed style and easy laugh had me revealing not only a few tidbits about my life and family, but comfortable enough to recite a cue card–prompted vacation ownership wish list I hadn't created. Thankfully it was both reasonable and accurate:

A place to create family memories …

Somewhere we'll look forward to returning year after year …

Has to be by the beach …

I wasn't sure whether it was Alejandro's charming manners—starting with whether I wanted to sit in the sun or shade—the way the staff seemed to be at extra attention in his presence, his seemingly earnest interest in my growing notoriety as Mrs. Frugalicious, or those delicious margaritas, but the camera crew seemed to vanish. Despite the multiple takes,
out-of
-sequence shots, and other assorted realities of reality television, we might as well have been all alone together as we ventured back indoors for a whirlwind tour of everything from Sushi Especia, one of the six internationally themed,
on-premise
restaurants, to Serenidad, the plush
state-of
-
the-art
spa and fitness facility. More impressive than the various amenities were the guest rooms—all suites, and all boasting living rooms filled with designer furniture and bathrooms filled with marble fixtures and
high-end
appliances.

“Our beds have high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and your choice of pillows,” Alejandro said with a wry smile as he followed me into the bedroom. “And a specially made mattress so comfortable that guests often claim they've never enjoyed anywhere they've spent the night more.”

I willed myself not to think about how long it had been since I'd actually
enjoyed
spending the night in my own bedroom.

Much less anywhere else …

The remainder of the tour was something of a blur as we wove around the
never-ending
mosaic-lined
swimming pools featuring everything from submerged chaises to
swim-up
bars, past the championship golf course, and out to a stretch of soft white sand that looked out onto the impossibly blue waters of the Mayan Riviera.

“Delightful,” Alejandro said. “Yes?”

So were the undertones of his spicy yet subtle cologne as I followed him into the resort sales office.

Vacation ownership at the luxe Hacienda de la Fortuna had to come with a steep price tag, so I expected to see a room full of uncomfortable presentees, all seated in defensive positions, looking nervously at one another, arms and legs crossed, the women clutching their handbags, and the men looking down at their feet. Instead, prospective buyers seemed downright relaxed as they sipped on cocktails, nibbled on snacks, and chatted with
well-dressed
salespeople.

As Alejandro led me toward his office on the other side of the sales floor, he stopped to check in at various conversation clusters.

“How has your experience with us been so far?”

“Wonderful,” said an older lady. “Antonio here is taking wonderful care of me.”

Antonio, who looked like Alejandro's slightly swarthy brother, gave her a playful wink. “Tell me, are you staying in an ocean or courtyard room?”

“Courtyard,” she said.

“How about we upgrade this fine lady so she can enjoy the view?” he said.

“Done,” Alejandro said.

“Wow,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Wow is right,” I said, after watching Alejandro proceed to authorize a free boat tour pass for one family and stop to pour a congratulatory glass of champagne from the signing bottle of another on our way to his
glass-walled
office. “I can't imagine how this could be any more—”

“Pleasant?” he asked as he motioned me to sit and an assistant appeared with snack and beverage cart. “That's how we roll around here.”

The presentation itself lasted far longer than it was supposed to, but the time somehow flew by as I sipped on a fresh margarita. Alejandro covered everything from a brief history of the resort to a detailed explanation of the exchange program that allowed owners to trade their vacation time at Hacienda de la Fortuna with resorts all over the world.

“Certainly in Hawaii and the Bahamas,” he said, recounting the spots I'd mentioned over lunch as destinations I most wanted to visit.

“So I can trade my week here for—?”

“A romantic getaway to Bora Bora,” he said. “If that's what you desire.”

I looked down and fiddled with my ring so neither the camera nor Alejandro could see my expression. “I can't imagine anyone desiring anything more than what you're offering here.”

“I'm glad you feel that way,” Alejandro said.

“I guess it all comes down to cost …” I mumbled, “versus benefits.”

“Which we have in abundance,” he said.

I looked up and our eyes met again.

Alejandro pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Given everything you've told me about your lifestyle and vacation habits, I hope you will allow me to presume that your family would be most interested in a
three-bedroom
unit you'd use for two weeks a year?”

“Theoretically,” I said. “But—”

“You don't usually get away for two consecutive weeks and, because of your schedules, it's hard to know exactly when you'll be able to take that time off?”

“Exactly,” I said, impressed by just how attentive he'd been and how fuzzy I was starting to feel. “And depending on—”

“A price that would satisfy the very
bargain-wise
Mrs. Frugalicious?” he said, jotting down a number on the notepad, which he proceeded to slide across his desk.

“Wow!” I said, putting down my drink and confirming the lack of zeros on the page. “This is all it costs for two weeks a year in a
three-bedroom
unit?”

“I've quoted the
bottom-line
price for what are known as floating weeks, which will exclude certain
high-traffic
times of the year, but yes.”

“But—?”

“What point would there be in playing price games with you, of all people?” he asked. “We both know the true investment lies in the vacation—the fun and memories created by spending time in any number of great places we can offer you as a vacation property owner.”

“True,” I managed.

“How about I give you a few minutes to think it over?”

“That would be great,” I said, picking up a conveniently placed calculator and pretending to crunch a number or two of my own.

“Cut,” Geo said.

We set up for the shot again, and once again I found myself sharing
my
cue-card
prompted thoughts:

“Like most people, I agreed to this whole timeshare presentation business for the perks I was promised in exchange for ninety minutes of my precious vacation time. I mean, what are the chances that I, Mrs. Frugalicious, would spring for such a
big-ticket
item without doing extensive background research first? Here's the thing, though …”

I read the next line I was supposed to recite:
This feels like it may be too good a deal to pass up!

I signaled Geo to stop shooting. “Hold up.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“This all looks great and everything, but I haven't done any real research on timeshares and—”

“One step ahead of you,” he said, handing me an article entitled
Ten Tips for Your Timeshare Presentation.
“Look it over and let's get on with it.”

I scanned a few of the bolded points:

—Even though you may have agreed to the timeshare presentation simply for the perks and upgrades, take the tour with sincere interest.

—Location is key. If you plan to trade or exchange timeshare locations, especially in desirable areas, you need to own in an area that has high
year-round
, global demand.

—The average timeshare purchase is roughly $15,000 to $20,000. Upscale units are in the upper $20,000s to low $40,000s. There's also an average yearly maintenance fee that can run anywhere from $250 to $1,000. 

—Assume approximately 20 years of use and determine the true cost per week by adding annual fees to annual amortized cost, factoring in the number of weeks per year.

“This is informative,” I said, noting that I was supposed to,
ask questions so the salesman recognizes you're too savvy to fall for anything short of a great deal.
“But I should still do some more
in-depth
research if I'm actually going to go ahead and sign something.”

“No need,” Geo said. “The timeshare was
pre-negotiated
as part of the deal we made with the resort.”

“I still have to pay—”

“Nothing!”

“
W-What
?”

“Just another benefit of being the star of
The Family Frugalicious!
”

“Oh,” I said.

“More like,
olé!
”

With that, Alejandro stepped back into the room, champagne bottle in hand, and the camera was back on.

“Ready to celebrate?” he asked, with an expectant smile. A smile shared by Geo, the cameraman, the cue card holder—everyone.

Everyone but me.

All I had to do was sign on the (inevitable variety of) dotted line(s) that would materialize before me and we would own two weeks of paradise.

In perpetuity …

And all for the unheard of price of absolutely nothing, assuming the annual maintenance fee was included.

But, as
light-headed
as I felt from the alcohol and the possibility of having my own free
dream-vacation
spot, I couldn't sign up for what seemed to be the most satisfying of frugasms
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without making sure I wasn't violating the greatest commandment of bargain shopping first:

If it sounds too good to be true …

“I'd like to think about it
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for a little longer,” I said, with what I feared was a bit of a slur.

“No!” Geo mouthed, shaking his head furiously. “No!”

“You've done a wonderful job,” I said to Alejandro. “But, to be honest, I haven't had a chance to do my due diligence.”
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Alejandro looked puzzled.

“I'm afraid there are just too many people who rely on the quality of my advice where deals are concerned.”

“I see,” Alejandro said.

I waited for a
but …

But how about one week a year instead of two?

How about a
two-bedroom
unit every other year for even less?

Of course, he couldn't possibly offer me anything more favorable than two free weeks a year, including a trade option with properties all over the world.

“I just need a little more time,” I said, looking earnestly at Alejandro before he could come up with a rebuttal. “How about we plan to meet again after I've had time to do a little more research and can provide my Frugarmy with enough information so they too can make their best deal?”

Geo threw his hands in the air. “Cut!”

The
situation
—as it was deemed by Geo, who was ranting into the phone before I could even apologize—was handled by stationing me behind Alejandro's desk to surf the web. While Geo and the camera crew assuaged their irritation with a snack break, I was instructed to absorb timeshare ownership information to my heart's content.

That, or fifteen minutes—whichever came first.

Luckily I managed to take in a fair bit of knowledge:

Only buy a timeshare if you expect to hold onto it. Timeshares are not real estate investments and typically don't appreciate. In fact, depreciation is the norm, so it shouldn't be considered a financial investment but an investment in your future vacations.
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