“Hello?” she answers.
“Mom, it’sme,” I say.
“Millie?”
Is she serious? Her phone literally tells her who it is when I call, and she should recognize her only daughter’s voice after twenty-four years.
“Yes,” I say.
“How are you?”
“I just gotthe bestnews!” I say, and I bounce on my feet a little as that edge of excitement still tingles in my toes.
“What is it?”
“Paradise Island Resort in the Bahamas just offered me a comped month to document my stay, try all the restaurants, the total works. All on them. Can you believe it?” I’m squealing. Definitely.
“Oh, honey, that’s nice, but what about your bills? Your rent? You can’t just take off for a whole month. You’re barely making ends meet now.”
She has a point, not that I’d admit that.
I sit back on the couch, this time not popping right back up as a bit of the excitement deflates from me.
“I’ll figure it out,” I say softly.
“I’m sure you will,” she says, not bothering to hide the doubt in her tone. “I just want you to be realistic about it. You can’t make a living by blogging about your travels, sweetheart.”
I want nothing more than to prove her wrong.
I’ve always loved travel, and I had this wild idea my junior year in college to start a travel blog just for fun. My goal has always been to find ways to feel like a VIP, and that’s sort of been my angle—champagne travel on a beer budget. That’s my blog, actually—Champagne Travel: Millie’s Miles.
Sometimes I travel with friends, and other times it’s solo, but it’s always with luxury touches to make the most out of my vacations, with tips to stay within a budget.
And now, almost exactly six years after my first blog post chronicling my spring break trip to Cancún with my friends, my dreams are coming true.
I’ve always wanted to move from being a travel blogger to being a travel influencer. This is it. This is my chance at the real dream: a paid partnership.
“Yes, I can,” I say softly. “I’m going to prove it to you. The resort manager mentioned that pending my performance, there could be opportunities for paid partnerships at the end of my stay. So yes, Mom, Icanmake money doing this.”
I leave out the actual amount of work it’s going to take to make that happen. It’s not just about documenting what amenities the resort has. It’s about market research, algorithms, building audience trust, and contractual obligations.
“I’ve always loved your confidence,” she says.
I remember once a few years ago my father made a comment to me that my parents built me up too much when I was a kid. They gave me too much confidence.
It felt like an insult. A backhanded compliment.
But I’m going to show them that my confidence is valid because I can do anything I set out to do. I’ll show them.
“Thanks. I need to run to work. Talk to you soon.” I hang up and pull open my email, and I spot the contract in there from Paradise Island Resort.
I scan the document as the excitement wanes and the reality plows into me.
It’s notexactlya free vacation for a month as it was sold to me over the phone. There’s an extensive laundry list of expectations, starting with two to four static posts a week on Instagram with daily stories discussing my activities. TikTok, YouTube, the works. I’ll need to tag the resort in every post, use their hashtags, and cross-post on other platforms.
And what am I supposed to post? Anything that makes the resort look good. Over the thirty days, they’ll have me try out the different towers. They want me to eat in all forty restaurants and talk about the strong drinks. They want me to try the excursions and attend resort activities and curate my photos to show them in the best light. And they want me to show how it’s affordable for everyone, which might be the biggest challenge of all since I’m being comped this entire trip.
Finding content won’t be a problem, but I have to align the resort’s expectations with what my audience expects from me. It will mean late nights editing when I’d rather be wrapped in the luxurious hotel sheets or having a drink at the bar as I chat up some handsome stranger.
