HERO TO ZERO
Getting my first one-star review as a host on Airbnb hurt almost more than any romantic failure. Reading it was like a violent rejection of everything I stood for: my house, my level of cleanliness, my taste in furniture — even the books on my shelves.
My Airbnb was my home; I put it on the site when I was travelling. It was a far cry from a soulless serviced apartment. My clothes were hanging in the wardrobe. There was food in the fridge. I left a note to guests to “help yourself”. It was going well, until an elderly woman and her middle-aged son stayed.
