Step into a holiday tale unlike any other—a journey of sparkling lights, unexpected turns, and wisdom whispered by the Ghosts of Claims Past.
It was the eve of the holiday season, and the insured sat comfortably, dreaming of crowded dance floors, the media buzz of a perfectly orchestrated pop-up holiday bar campaign, and credit card receipts flowing like eggnog. The music was lively, the lights were bright, and the promise of a prosperous night shimmered like tinsel on a tree. But as the clock struck midnight, a chill crept through the room as a subtle reminder that even the most festive evenings can summon the Ghosts of Claims Past.
The First Spirit: A Champagne Phantom
With a pop and fizz, the spirit whispered of a glittering New Year’s Eve gone wrong. Remember the dance floor slick with bubbly? Of course! The insured could not forget last year’s New Year’s Eve bash.
The insured had envisioned a glittering New Year’s Eve—a night of laughter, music, and sparkling toasts. Mini champagne bottles were handed out as the clock neared midnight, a gesture meant to delight the crowd. But as the corks popped and the bubbles danced, so too did the seeds of misfortune.
The Ghost of Claims Past raised its spectral hand and revealed a scene: a crowded dance floor slick with champagne. Whether spilled by the plaintiff herself, or sprayed by revelers eager to ring in the new year, the result was the same—a sudden slip, a violent fall, and a shattered tailbone that would haunt her long after the music faded.
Medical bills of almost six figures, and whispers of permanent disability echoed through the halls of the courthouse. The case settled for just less than double the medical bills. A sobering reminder that even the smallest indulgence—a mini bottle of bubbly—can spill into a torrent of liability.
What is the lesson from this Champagne Phantom?
Festivity without foresight is folly. Champagne belongs in glasses at tables, and not on dance floors. The keys to a prosperous new year are vigilance in monitoring risks on dance floors, staff training, and appropriate safety protocols to ensure a safe toast can be had by all.
The Second Spirit: A Rock of Regret
The Ghost of Claims Past drifted silently, its robes rustling like fallen leaves. It beckoned toward a frosty patio bathed in the glow of Christmas lights. There stood an elderly guest, her heart warmed by the festive display, unaware of the peril beneath her feet.
A single decorative rock—innocent in appearance, mischievous in placement—had rolled into the walkway courtesy of a child’s playful hand. One misstep, and joy turned to agony. The fall fractured her shoulder, requiring surgery and hardware with medical bills in excess of $50,000. What began as a stroll of wonder ended in litigation.
The spirit’s voice echoed like wind through the empty streets. Even the smallest stone can topple the grandest plans. Guard your paths, lest they lead to ruin.
What is the lesson from the Rock of Regret?
The spirit raised its spectral finger toward the glittering patio and warned the insured to design holiday displays with prudence, or the beauty will breed peril. Secure each ornament, fasten each bauble, anchor each cord, and let vigilant eyes patrol common thoroughfares so patrons do not wander into paths of doom. Your majestic holiday displays can leave your patrons entranced and distracted so as not to appreciate what is ordinarily open and obvious. Let every inspection be common, frequent, and written so the insured’s diligence is rewarded in the event of a claim. For in the courts, memory fades, but records of well-documented and followed safety inspections endure.
The Third Spirit: A Midnight Melee
The third spirit emerged from the shadows, its form cloaked in gloom, clutching a jagged shard of glass that glimmered like frost beneath the pale moon. Its voice was low and grave, carrying the weight of taverns past and futures yet uncertain.
Behold a lively New Year’s Eve scene in a tavern brimming with revelry. Music swelled, laughter rang, and glasses clinked in joyous accord. The clock ticked closer to midnight. Closing time was nigh. Yet beneath the merriment simmered discord, unseen but palpable to many, like embers beneath a hearth.
As the hour grew late and the revelers thick with drink, words sharpened into quarrels. A patron, flushed with spirits, struck the plaintiff with a blow that knocked her to the floor. In desperation, plaintiff grappled with her assailant, her hands clutching the neck of her attacker in fury. Then came the fatal folly. An employee, ill-trained and unprepared, seized a beer bottle as a weapon of peace. With a swift swing, the employee hit the plaintiff in the head with the bottle, causing it to shatter and slice the plaintiff’s face. Plaintiff was concussed and silence fell over the scene heavier than the midnight air.
The ledger of consequence lay open with a concussion, deep facial lacerations, scars, disfigurement, and medical bills for past and future treatment.
What is the lesson from The Midnight Melee?
The spirit’s eyes burned like coals as it warned to remember in the absence of wisdom and preparation, chaos reigns. Train your employees in the art of calm through de-escalation and let them prevent fights before they break out. Arm them with wisdom instead of bottles and weapons, so they know safety protocols and the appropriate way to intervene. Closing hour is peril’s hour, and vigilance is the surest shield.
A Pledge for the Future
As dawn broke, the insured vowed to heed the spirits’ counsel. He vowed to maintain clear and salted walkways, monitor the dance floors, and train every employee as a sentinel of safety. For in the world of hospitality, the ghosts of claims past linger, but their guidance can light the path to prevention.
