Storytelling

Art by Hideaki Kawashima

Last week, the entire hotel staff grouped together for a one-hour meeting. The company as a whole hosts these meetings about twice a year in an attempt to inspire its troops by making it appear that our jobs are more important than they actually are. The idea, in this meeting, was that ten groups of about eight people each would go around and share stories of how they performed excellent guest service. Then, these groups would pick one story, write it down on a piece of paper, and hand it to the general manager for her to read aloud.

Naturally, these epic meetings tend to split the staff up by department. My group, for example, was comprised of the hotel’s “pawns” (with the exception of the awkward Eastern European saleswoman who looked like she regretted sitting with us immediately after she did). While the housekeeping clique looked confused and were attempting to decipher the presentation back into their native languages, my group couldn’t stop it with the sarcastic remarks and snickers. We are not treated as human beings on a daily basis but as shells of human beings, and therefore had a difficult time telling a story without a tone of contempt. After some uncomfortable deliberation, one of my colleagues recounted when she had help one of our deaf guests find a strobe light alarm clock. We deemed the story sufficient for minimal participation and ended up talking some shit instead.

The general manager went around the meeting space collecting these stories. She read a few aloud, expressing how delighted she was to have such a hospitable and kind staff. We, she explained, were the reason why the hotel kept the reputation it did. She didn’t notice the grunts, groans, and sighs that circulated the front desk table.

The meeting itself was called “Storytelling” and from now on, we are encouraged to share our hospitality stories on pieces of blue sticky paper and post them in the back office. It’s been almost eight days since this meeting, and I haven’t seen a department post one.

Art by Hideaki Kawashima

Although I understand the appeal of sharing positive guest experiences, the ones the people like to hear are of the moronic, impossible, and downright infuriated individuals we encounter every day. I’ll begin my post with two positive guest experiences. You’ll notice that they’re quaint and straightforward. They arouse warm feelings for a moment, but you’ll find yourself scanning through them for the later part of this entry. The horrendous encounters that will conclude this post are the ones you’ll remember and laugh at.

I do wish that I could visit my general manager in her office, take a piece of licorice from her welcome bin of candy, and tell these stories. I wish I could post them in the back office for everybody to read. What’s holding this hotel together, I’d explain, is not our positive experiences, but our negative ones.

Guest: Hello, I'm checking in.

Me: Okay, I see you're staying in a king bed for two nights in a non-smoking room. The room was booked with the 

[State] Vegetable Association group rate.

Guest: Yes, that's right.

Me: So...can you get me a pretty good discount on lettuce?

Guest: (cannot respond because he's laughing so hard)

- - - - - - -

Guest: Hi, there. This is our first time visiting [City]. Can you recommend some things to do?

Me: Sure, you can____________, ___________________,_____________________, and _____________. Here's a map of the area with a restaurant guide. I highly recommend this restaurant. May I make you a reservation?

Guest: Wow! That would be great!

Me: Sure, what's your room number? I'll just take your information from there.

Guest: It's blahblahblah.

Me: (sees they're booked under the Planned Parenthood group). Okay, I'll do that now.

Guest: Thank you so much! You've been so helpful!

Me: Well, thank you for working for women's rights.

Guest: (beaming and dumbfounded with pride) Thank you...thank you so much.

- - - - - - -

You understand. These encounters are excellent when they occur, but do nothing for the soul. 

People don’t rubberneck because they want to make sure everybody in the accident is alive. 

People want to see blood and guts.

Now, I grew up on the West coast so I’d like to think that I’m pretty immune to the questionable behavior of dumb blonde bimbos. This particular woman, however, shattered my patience:

Guest (blonde, complete with Louis Vuitton monogram bag and Chihuahua): Hi, checking in.

Me: Alright. What is your last name, please.

Guest: Blahblah.

Me: You know, I'm having a bit of a hard time locating your reservation. Do you have the confirmation number?

Guest: Uh, no.

Me: Alright. Is it possible that it was booked under a different name?

Guest: Uh, no. It was booked under blahblah.

Me: (looking under multiple dates, spelling the name in different ways, etc.) I apologize, but I'm still not finding it. It's spelled blahblah, correct?

Guest: Uh, yeah.

Me: (tries again) It's still not coming up. It is possible that the reservation was booked at a different hotel? Maybe [hotel with similar name]?

Guest: NO. None of that is possible. I had a room over at [different property] and it was booked as a smoking room, but I didn't want a smoking room. They sent me over here because you have non-smoking rooms. I spoke to the MOD (manager on duty) and he made a reservation for me. 

Me: You spoke to the MOD?

Guest: Yeah, I spoke to MOD.

Me: (calling MOD) Hi, MOD, do you remember booking a reservation for blahblah? From [different property]?

MOD: Uh, no I don't.

Me: Do you want to speak with her. She's certain she spoke with you. I have her right in front of me.

MOD: I'll be right down.

Me: He'll be right down.

MOD: Hello, Ms. blahblah. I don't remember us speaking. I understand we're having a hard time finding your reservation?

Guest: Yeah. (tells entire story again).

MOD: Okay, well, we're going to check one more time with the front desk manager and see if he's the one you spoke with.

Guest: Okay, fine.

Me: Did you remember booking a reservation for blahblah from [different property].

Front Desk Manager: Well, I remember booking for a bleeblah from [different property]. Maybe she's with him.

Me: Okay.

Front Desk Manager: Ms. Blahblah, are you rooming with a Mr. Bleeblah? 

Guest: Uh, yeeahhh.

Me: (looks up reservation under different name) Ah, yes. Here it is. Er, sorry about the confusion.

Guest: Whatever.

Me: Here are your keys. The guest elevators are over there.

Guest: Kay thanks bye.

Extreme Facepalm

 Guest: I, uh, parked in the handicapped spot in the garage. How does that work?

Me: Alright, I'll add parking to your reservation and it'll be charged to the credit card on file.

Guest: Wait, I still have to pay for parking?

Me: Yes, sir. Overnight parking is $20 per day for hotel guests.

Guest: And I have to pay for parking?

Me: Yes, sir, that is correct.

Guest: Even if I parked in the handicapped spot?

Me: That's right.

Guest: And it's going to be $40?

Me: Yes, sir. You're staying with us for two nights.

Guest: I guess I shouldn't have asked.

Me: Well, to be fair, the garage does not allow vehicles to exit without the room key programmed that way. And the room keys aren't programmed for parking unless it's charged to the account on file.

Guest: $40, huh?

Me: Yes.

Guest: Well, I guess I need to do something to contribute to [infamous hotel heiress party girl]'s exploits.

Me: ......

 Guest: Hello. Hi. I left my phone charger in my room and I've already checked out. Could you please send somebody up there to get it for me?

Me: Of course. What was the room number?

Guest: Blahblah.

Me: (calls housekeeping) A phone charger was left in this room. Could you send somebody to bring it down for the guest?

Housekeeper: Sure, she'll be right down. Give it about ten minutes. 

Me: Alright, I'll let the guest know.

Me: Alright, Ms.Blahblah. The housekeeper is bringing it down. If you want to have a seat, it'll be about ten minutes.

Guest: Okay. 

(two minutes later)

Guest: What's taking so long?

Me: The housekeeper needs to go to the room from wherever she's working, ride the elevator down, and come into 

the lobby. She said it would be ten minutes. She's on her way.

Guest: Okay, well, is there any way you could tell her to hurry up? I'm going to be late.

Me: Sure, I'll check on it. (calls housekeeping) Is there any way you could bring down the charger right away? The guest needs to leave soon.

Housekeeper: She just left. She's headed up to the room right now.

Me: Okay, thanks.

Me: I let her know... They're going as fast as they can.

Guest: Okay.

(one minute later)

Guest: This is ridiculous! What is taking so long?

Me: I apologize, but they are going as fast as they can. She'll be right down.

Guest: How hard can it be?

Me: I'm sorry. I'll check on it again. (calls housekeeping for the third time) Any word on the charger?

Housekeeping: I don't know where she is. She left a couple of minutes ago and should be on her way down. 

Me: Okay, thank you.

Guest: Well?

Me: It should be any minute now.

Guest: You've been saying that! Any minute now! What could be taking so long?

Me: I don't know. They told us it would be ten minutes. Do you want to go up to the room yourself?

Guest: No, that's why I wanted somebody to get it for me! And it's been way over ten minutes! (it's been about 6 minutes at this point.)

Me: If you're in a hurry, we could just ship the charger to you. Why don't you give me your information so you can be on your way?

Guest: (gives me her information) This is ridiculous. I'm going to be late. You're probably going to charge me for the shipping, too, I bet.

Me: Yes, ma'am. We'll charge the shipping cost to the credit card you gave us.

Guest: WHAT? No. This is your fault. You said it would be down in ten minutes and I've been waiting. You are not charging me for shipping!

Me: You can talk to the security guard about shipping. He'll be the one you speak with when we ship it to you.

Guest: I am not paying for shipping.

Me: We'll speak to you later, ma'am. We don't want you to be late.

Guest: Fine. This is the most ridiculous fucking thing ever. (storms to the exit)

(one minute passes and she storms back to the desk)

Guest: Well, where is it?

Me: I'm not sure. I understood we were going to ship it to you?

Guest: I'm going to be so late I can't believe this.

Me: To be fair, ma'am, I offered to send you up to the room yourself, but you declined. I assumed you wanted to have it sent down. That's what it did. It takes time.

Guest: That's not the point! This is all your fault! You'll be hearing from me later! (examines my name tag very closely)

(30 seconds later)

Housekeeper: Here's the phone charger. Sorry it took so long. The elevator stopped a couple times.