People who stay at all-inclusive resorts often display these 8 lower-class traits without realizing it

Vacations are aspirational.

For some, that means backpacking through Europe, renting villas on Airbnb, or chasing “hidden gem” experiences off the beaten path.

For others, it means the all-inclusive: a colorful wristband, a buffet wrist-deep in pasta, and the kind of “exotic” cocktails you can only order when everything’s free.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with this—rest is rest, and people deserve it.

But all-inclusives tend to cultivate a particular culture, one that quietly signals status, taste, and class in ways people rarely articulate.

Here are eight lower-class traits that often show up at all-inclusive resorts—whether guests realize it or not.

1. Overloading the buffet plate

The all-inclusive buffet is like a Vegas casino for food: overwhelming, brightly lit, and impossible to resist.

Guests pile plates sky-high with shrimp, lasagna, mashed potatoes, and three kinds of dessert—as if they might never see food again.

The cringe factor isn’t the appetite itself, but the excess. Most people end up leaving half their mountain uneaten, a sad, melted tower of indulgence signaling overconsumption more than enjoyment.

It’s less about hunger and more about the performance of getting your money’s worth. And nothing says lower-class louder than confusing value with volume.

2. Treating staff like servants

One of the ugliest traits on display at all-inclusives is how some guests interact with staff.

Snapping fingers at bartenders. Barking orders at waiters. Acting like towel attendants exist solely to fetch and carry.

The underlying vibe is entitlement: I paid for this wristband, therefore I own you for a week.

But wealthier, more seasoned travelers tend to know better—tipping, smiling, learning names, building rapport.

The cringe comes not from asking for service, but from forgetting that staff are humans, not vending machines.

3. Drinking like it’s a challenge

Unlimited alcohol is a dangerous marketing trick.

For some guests, the resort bar isn’t a place to relax—it’s an obstacle course. The mission: How many daiquiris can you down before dinner? How many shots until karaoke night?

This binge-drinking energy is distinctly lower-class because it confuses indulgence with recklessness. Instead of savoring, it’s about conquering. Instead of leisure, it’s competition.

Other guests roll their eyes when they watch people stumble into pools, shout at strangers, or treat every cocktail like proof of dominance.

Luxury doesn’t look like slurring by noon. It looks like knowing when to stop.

4. Refusing to leave the resort

All-inclusives are designed as bubbles.

But some people treat that bubble like a fortress, refusing to step foot outside for fear of “danger,” “scams,” or the simple discomfort of the unknown.

The result? They fly thousands of miles to another country and never actually experience it—except for the sanitized version curated by the resort.

This trait screams lower-class because it confuses travel with consumption. Wealthier or more cultured travelers want authenticity. Lower-class vacationers want safety, convenience, and a never-ending supply of piña coladas.

The cringe is realizing they’ll return home bragging about “Mexico” when they never left the Marriott compound.

5. Overdoing poolside displays

There’s something uniquely comic about the way some guests treat the pool deck as a runway.

Men strut around shirtless, beer belly leading the way. Women pose endlessly for Instagram in identical neon swimsuits. Families lay claim to rows of chairs at dawn with strategically placed towels, as if territory at the pool is sovereign land.

The energy is less relaxation, more spectacle. It’s the urge to be seen, to perform vacation for others instead of simply enjoying it.

And when it’s paired with blaring Bluetooth speakers or cannonballs during “quiet swim,” everyone else is left inwardly cringing.

6. Wearing the wristband like jewelry

The colored wristband is meant to be functional: proof you’re a paying guest, permission to eat the buffet shrimp without being tackled by security.

But some wear it with pride, flaunting it as if it’s a Rolex. They flash it at bartenders, gesture with it in photos, and keep it on even when venturing into town—like a badge of belonging to the “all-inclusive club.”

It signals a mindset where access itself is luxury, rather than quality.

Seasoned travelers discreetly tuck it away, cutting it off the moment the trip ends. The cringe is in treating plastic like prestige.

7. Overhyping mediocre entertainment

All-inclusives are famous for their nightly “shows”: dance troupes, cover bands, karaoke contests hosted by overly enthusiastic emcees.

Some guests cheer like they’re at Broadway, recording shaky videos, standing to applaud, and reliving it as if they saw Hamilton live.

It’s not that the entertainment is bad—it’s that the uncritical enthusiasm betrays inexperience. People who don’t regularly attend theater, concerts, or cultural events at home treat the resort’s budget revue as the pinnacle of artistry.

Other guests cringe, not at the joy itself, but at the over-the-top reactions that feel more desperate than discerning.

8. Talking constantly about “getting their money’s worth”

Perhaps the most universal lower-class trait at all-inclusives is the constant calculation of value.

“I had four cocktails today, that’s at least $60 back already.”

“We ate three meals and two snacks—that would’ve cost us $200 outside.”

“Another massage? Might as well—it’s included.”

This obsession with squeezing every dime out of the package makes the vacation feel transactional, not restful. It reduces paradise to a spreadsheet.

And while it’s understandable—these trips aren’t cheap—it’s also the clearest giveaway of class: confusing quantity with quality, and consumption with experience.

The bigger picture

Here’s the thing: none of these behaviors make someone bad.

They just reveal how people relate to leisure, money, and status. All-inclusives are designed to lure the lower-middle-class traveler who wants to feel rich for a week without actually engaging with what wealthier travelers value: subtlety, culture, and choice.

The cringe isn’t about individuals—it’s about a system that sells fantasy as status, and about how eagerly people perform it.

Closing thought

Vacations tell on us.

Where we go, how we act, and what we prioritize says more about class than our income bracket ever could.

All-inclusives are proof: you can buy the wristband, the buffet, and the bottomless margaritas—but you can’t buy the kind of ease that comes with real sophistication.

And that’s why, whether they mean to or not, guests often display traits that give them away.