Hotel Jazz in Barcelona

The Spanish man at the front desk spoke terrible English, so communication was a struggle. He missed a lot of things that needed to be explained, which really upset me from the very first day I checked in. Even when I asked him to explain things again, he just kept mumbling to himself, looking at the floor. I even told him he wasn't listening to me. He didn't change his tune, just staring at the floor and mumbling softly. I was really angry. Finally, when I was cleaning the room, there was no information about moving my luggage, so I asked him to carry it myself if I wanted to, so I struggled to get my kids and three suitcases in. The bathroom sink was constantly leaking, and the glass door in the shower stall was scratching the floor, making a creaking noise that was scary. The other women were generally friendly, though the two black-haired, bespectacled ladies were a bit of a letdown. My trip to Barcelona was interrupted by my accommodations, which really upset me.
I returned after 20 years, but it wasn't the same as before, and I think the male employee's rudeness played a part.