Ask any camp host what really scares them, and it’s usually not mowing, cleaning a bathhouse, or dealing with late check‑ins. It’s the moment something goes really wrong… and they have no idea what they’re officially supposed to do. They may not tell you this directly, but it hangs over them. The “what ifs” pile up: What if there’s a medical emergency and I’m the only one nearby? What if two drunk campers start a fight? What if a dog bites a kid? What if there’s a severe storm and trees start coming down? What if someone goes missing on the trails? Most camp hosts are regular people. They’re not paramedics, law enforcement, or crisis negotiators. But when they live on site and wear a name tag, guests will treat them like all three. The biggest fear isn’t the event itself. It’s the fear of making the wrong call. Do I call 911 now, or do I wake the manager first? Am I allowed to knock on that RV door at midnight if I think something’s wrong? Do I personally break up that argument, or do I keep my distance? Can I shut down the pool if I think it’s unsafe, or will I get in trouble? When there’s no clear, written emergency plan, every serious situation becomes a test of “common sense” in a high‑stress moment. That’s not fair to you, to your guests, or to the person wearing the camp host hat. From the host’s point of view, it feels like this: If I do too little, I’ll be blamed for not acting. If I do too much, I’ll be blamed for overstepping. So they freeze. Or they overreact. Or they call you for every single thing because they’re terrified of guessing wrong. The solution isn’t to find “fearless” hosts. The solution is to give normal hosts a simple emergency playbook. At a minimum, your host should know, in writing: In a medical emergency, who do I call first? 911, then manager? Or manager first, then 911? In a violent or threatening situation, do I engage at all, or do I retreat and call law enforcement? If there’s a serious weather event, what’s the signal to start moving guests to safer areas, and who makes that call?

Most campground managers I talk to sound exhausted before we’ve even finished the first cup of coffee. They’re: - Taking guest calls, - Covering the front desk, - Coaching (or correcting) hosts, - Answering owner emails, - Babysitting maintenance schedules, - And, somewhere in there, trying to have a life. The story is always some version of: “I have staff, but I still end up doing everything myself—because if I don’t, it doesn’t get done right.” Sound familiar? The Real Problem: You’re the System It’s not that your people are useless. It’s that: - Everything lives in your head. - You are the: - Policy manual, - Training program, - Complaint department, - Safety officer, - And HR department. So when something goes wrong, everybody comes to you: - “What do I do with this late check‑in?” - “Guest at Site 14 is mad about the wifi.” - “We’re low on TP—who orders that?” - “Is this an emergency, or do I leave a note for maintenance?” You never get past react‑mode because your team doesn’t have: - Clear authority lines, - Simple systems to follow, - Or the training to make good decisions without you standing there. Three Pain Points I Hear Over and Over “Everything bottlenecks at me.” Managers get stuck: - Approving every refund, - Weighing in on every complaint, - Answering every “Can we move them to another site?” question. Result: You can’t step away for half a day without your phone blowing up. “My hosts and staff don’t take ownership.” From your side it looks like: - No one notices problems until a guest complains. - People do the bare minimum of the list and call it good. - “It’s not my job” energy whenever something falls between job descriptions. Sometimes that’s attitude. More often, it’s unclear expectations and zero training on how to think like an owner. “I’m always in fire‑fighting mode, never improving anything.” You want to: - Tighten operations, - Improve guest experience, - Boost reviews and revenue.

If you’ve ever driven back to the campground after “a quick day off” only to find: - A line of irritated campers at the office, - Overflowing trash cans, - A golf cart with the keys missing, and - Your camp host nowhere to be found… …you’re not alone. Most campground owners/managers I talk to say the same thing: “I hired a camp host to free me up… and now I spend half my time putting out fires they started.” The Real Pain Point: Hosts Who Aren’t Set Up to Succeed Here’s the hard truth a lot of owners already know deep down: - Most camp hosts want to do a good job. - They’re just thrown into the role with: - A vague job description, - A quick walkthrough of “how we do things around here,” and - A set of keys. Then we’re surprised when: - Quiet hours aren’t enforced, - Check‑ins get sloppy, - Maintenance tickets disappear into thin air, - And complaints start hitting Google faster than they hit your front desk. It’s not just frustrating—it’s expensive: - Refunds, - Bad reviews, - Extra hours on property because “you can’t trust the hosts to handle it.” What Camp Hosts Are Missing (And It’s Not “More Common Sense”) Camp hosts don’t need more lectures about “taking initiative.” They need: 1. Clear, written expectations - What does a “good” day look like? - What are they 100% responsible for, versus what stays on you or maintenance? 1. Simple SOPs (Standard Operating Procedures) - Check‑in checklist, - Quiet hours protocol (what to say, when to escalate), - Trash and bathhouse schedule, - What to document and where. 1. A basic toolkit for dealing with people - How to say “no” without starting a fight, - What to do when a camper complains about another camper, - How to handle “We’ve been coming here for 10 years…” entitlement. Without those, you don’t have a camp host. You have a warm body with a name tag. How Camp Host Central Fits In Here inside Camp Host Central, the goal is to make camp hosts an asset, not another full‑time job for you.

Not talking about million‑dollar upgrades here. These are three small operational shifts that can have an outsized impact on guest experience, revenue, and staff sanity in almost any park. 1. Make the Store a Front Door, Not a Side Quest Camp stores often get cut back to limited hours because “they’re not making much.” That usually starts a death spiral: - Guests stop expecting it to be open. - They stop checking. - Sales go down even more. - The store becomes dead space. Two simple tweaks can change that pattern: - Open the store on consistent daily hours, even if the window is small. - Route check‑in through the store, so every arriving guest walks past what’s for sale. What that does: - Guests know exactly when the store is open. - Every stay includes at least one “store impression.” - The store feels like a real amenity again instead of a gamble. Key question: Is the store hidden and unpredictable, or is it a clear, reliable part of the guest’s path? 2. Turn Hosts Back into Hosts (Not Just Golf Cart Police) In a lot of campgrounds, the only time guests see staff on a cart is when something’s wrong: - “You can’t park there.” - “You’re too loud.” - “You can’t do that here.” Over time, that trains everyone: - Guests flinch when they see a cart. - Hosts dread their rounds because it’s all confrontation. A simple role flip can help: - Primary role: check that guests are having a good time. - Secondary role: use that interaction to address issues. The rules don’t soften—quiet hours, speed limits, pet rules still apply. What changes is the order: 1. Human first. 2. Helpful second. 3. “By the way, here’s what we need from you.” What tends to follow: - Guests see staff as part of the experience, not just punishment. - Hosts get less pushback because they’ve already been kind and useful. - Enforcement often gets easier, not harder. Key question: Are your most visible people associated with help, or only with trouble?