Parlez-vous Franglais? Studying French in Paris

As part of my writing sabbatical from the hotel industry this year, shortly after the launch of my latest book I hopped on a plane to embark on a three-month sojourn in Paris. I had hoped my time here would be like a non-stop wine-and-cheese party, but upon arrival I knew no one, and the first couple of weeks were overshadowed by solitude. Now, six weeks later, I’m happily settled into an apartment near the Centre Pompidou and am writing by morning, studying by afternoon, and hanging out with my new friends by evening.

Part of my motivation in coming to Paris was to improve my French. Years ago, after four years of university French, in the great tradition of Canadian university students I was unable to conduct even the simplest yet most essential transactions, like asking for directions to the nearest bar. Last year I spent five glorious months in Montreal, but it's impossible to learn French there because most people speak English. I used to test how long I could get away with speaking French with a local before he or she switched to English, and often I got no further than “Bonjour”. Occasionally I conducted an entire conversation, and I would walk away feeling triumphant. In retrospect I suppose ordering a coffee at Starbucks wasn’t that big a deal.

Here in Paris I’m taking French classes every weekday afternoon for three hours. During my placement interview the counselor asked me why I had come to Paris. Desperately hoping not to be placed in the remedial class, I gave a reply that was less about my opinion than about the French words I could remember. “You like Parisians?” she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest. I blinked. In fact, Parisians had been cold bastards since I arrived, and none had seemed adequately appreciative of my efforts to speak their language. She went on to say that she is from the French countryside and even she finds Parisians to be rude; she could only imagine how difficult it is for Canadians, who are so pleasant and polite. I just nodded and smiled, like any good Canadian would, in part because I had no idea how to respond in French, and in part because inside I was quietly weeping in solidarity.

In class I write pages and pages of notes. Later, while out with my French friends, I can only conjure up the same handful of French words I’ve known most of my life, words like yes, no, how are you, and my that cheese is smelly. Occasionally a word I learned in class will come to me and I’ll blurt it out whether or not it has anything to do with our conversation. I never think it will fly, and brace myself for the blank stare, the pained expression, the plea to speak English. If my friend simply nods and carries on with our conversation, I’m so thrilled I insist we back up so he can properly acknowledge my genius.

At school there is a constant influx of students from all over the world, but only French is spoken in class. Some students don’t even speak English, which I still can’t get my mind around. I mean, really. When I don’t know a word in French I’m used to substituting it with an English word, but here that has as much effect as ancient Hebrew. In class I get to hear French spoken in a variety of accents: Swedish, Russian, Spanish, Australian, etc. So far I find the accent of the Chinese woman the most intriguing, and by intriguing I mean irritating. She barks out French like a fish vendor in a crowded market, and I never have any idea what she’s saying. It’s far easier to understand the American, who speaks French exactly like English, without fussing over rolling R’s or nasal sounds.

In Canada I’m a hotel executive and the author of three books. Here in France I’m regarded as a middle-aged man who speaks like a five-year-old and appears to have a severe learning disability. In class my behavior also reverts to that of a five-year-old. When I know the answer my hand shoots into the air, waving frantically. If I’m wrong, far more frequently than I care to admit, my face goes red, and I smolder with resentment toward my teacher and all my classmates, especially the Polish girl who always gets the answers right.

On principle I feel vastly superior to all new students, and quickly write them off as showoffs, hopelessly stupid or bad dressers. One day a German student came to class wearing lederhosen-like shorts, and I couldn’t stop staring at her legs, so hairy they appeared to be covered with spiders. Occasionally I decide I like someone instantly because she seems cool or he has nice shoes, but I’m always disappointed. Over time I find myself liking the people I originally loathed and loathing the people I originally liked, which doesn’t say much for my judgment.

Often I'll start getting friendly with a student, and suddenly he or she stops coming to class. I'm sure it's not personal, but it is kind of creepy, like the Gestapo is back in Paris and foreigners are being pulled from their beds at night. The real reason is most students are here for a short stay, sometimes only a week or two. After only four weeks I’m one of the most senior students, me and that Chinese woman, and we're like bad-ass lifer inmates running the prison. Or the dumb kids in class who keep getting held back.

While walking home the other night I ran into some fellow students on their way to a local park to drink wine and smoke, and they invited me to join them. My first impulse was to run away, but then I reminded myself that this was the kind of experience I came to Paris for—to smugly drink wine in public parks while friends and colleagues back home were chained to their desks—so I shyly accepted. We sat on the grass and spoke bad French while passing around a bottle of wine, and it reminded me of my early days as a backpacker. Except now I’m a lot older, and I couldn’t help but worry by their furtive glances that they suspected I was an escaped child molester.

I have a few expressions I use frequently here because they make me feel French and in-the-know, like “Quoi de neuf?” and “On y va!” Recently I discovered I was misusing one. A Parisian friend texted me to cancel our plans, saying his sister was sick, and I texted back “Tant pis!” Later I discovered that although this phrase technically translates as “Too bad”, it conveys a sentiment closer to “Whatever”.

An upside to having a cold in France is it really helps with nasal sounds. At home I often practice speaking French by myself, and sometimes my accent is so beautiful and Parisian I’m moved to tears. But when I try to emulate it in class or say, in the bakery while ordering my third pain au chocolat of the day, it all comes out terribly wrong. The other night I went to a French play, and at first it was all quite thrilling, but by act two I had a headache and kind of tuned out. In one scene the actor parodies an American who considers himself Parisian after six years in Paris. The audience found his portrayal hysterical, but I only pretended to laugh along. Six years? I had started calling myself Parisian after only three weeks.

These days, I no longer resent Parisians, I love them. They’ve been incredibly warm and hospitable. Sometimes while out at night I become so absorbed in a conversations with them I don't even realize I'm speaking French. But then I panic and bail, and my mind shuts down, refusing to produce anything but the usual words: yes, no, and can I borrow some money. I expect my friends to acknowledge my disability and switch to English, but they never do. It makes me long for those days in Montreal. But then I remind myself why I came to Paris, and I soldier on. If the Chinese fisherwoman can do it, so can I. Tant pis.

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Construction? What Construction? A Case Study for Hotels.

Because hotels run on the promise of comfort and rest, an onsite construction project can be particularly challenging to manage. Rather than risk sending guests fleeing to competitors, hotels often choose to keep silent about construction activity, hoping guests won’t notice the jack-hammering in the lobby. If a guest complains, management feigns shock and dismay, as though a crew marched in uninvited and began tearing down walls. Complaints are handled in the only way hotels know how: by buying the guest’s silence. If the guest is mildly irritated, he might get a brusque apology and a free local call. Pissed off? A whopping 15% off last night's room charge, perhaps with continental breakfast thrown in—accompanied by the roar of bulldozers. Apoplectic? An escort off property by security.

Having suffered both sides—as a hotel manager, a massive construction project next door and, as a hotel guest, drilling as excruciating as a root canal—I’ve learned that hotels will better protect long- and short-term interests not by treating construction like an unspeakable secret but by being open and communicative with guests. It’s a frightening proposition, but it works.

I’ll never forget that day in 2005 when a group of super-friendly people came to Opus Hotel to tell me about plans to build an underground rapid transit station in our neighbourhood, a three-year project that would create an excavation the size of a football field directly outside our door. As the hotel’s general manager I did what any great leader would do: I locked myself in my office and had a good cry. Then I went online to look for a new job.

In the following months, my colleagues and I tried to figure out how to maintain our high occupancy and guest satisfaction ratings while under siege. An employee suggested a radical approach: we tell guests the truth. The idea was immediately dismissed as preposterous, a break from the hotel industry’s illustrious tradition of deceit and blame-deflection when it comes to construction. Yet the idea fit in with our organizational values of integrity and respect, and no one came up with a better solution, so we decided to give it a whirl. From that point forward, we were completely transparent about construction, warning guests in advance and keeping them informed while on property.

It was a nail-biting risk. We were giving prospective guests a reason to stay elsewhere and providing our competitors a weapon to use against us. Many of our rooms didn’t face the construction site, and activity was sporadic—why alarm all guests when only a few would be disturbed? Transparency threatened only to exacerbate the problem.

Yet to avoid the issue can be far more damaging. While a guest of a hotel in Atlanta, I endured drilling next door for three days before I called to complain. I was transferred to the duty manager’s line, and I left a message, but I didn’t hear back. The next day a gift basket was delivered to my room. There was no note or card, so I had no idea who it came from, but it did come with a jar of tasty Georgian peach salsa. Meanwhile, the drilling turned to jack-hammering. I left another message for the manager, this time requesting to change rooms. Again, no call back. That night, another gift arrived, a slab of chocolate that vaguely resembled the hotel’s logo. It had melted—much like my resolve. I checked out the next day and, as much as I enjoyed the peach salsa, I won’t be staying there again.

In my experience, hotel guests are more understanding—and surprisingly accepting—when communication is proactive and sincere. To avoid unpleasant surprises, hotels should communicate construction activity at the time of reservation and place a notice on the website, in confirmation letters, and in group, corporate and event contracts. Most travelers are up and out early and won’t be daunted. Rooms closest to construction should be placed out of order or sold at a discount; many travelers will be willing to risk a disturbance if it means getting a great deal. Keep guests informed by placing a letter in guestrooms from the general manager explaining the nature of the work, the benefits, and the duration, and inviting guests to contact the front desk if they have concerns. Equipping rooms with earplugs and white noise machines will show that you’re trying, but will do little to drown out construction noise.

Being transparent doesn’t mean being alarmist. Sales and reservations staff should avoid comments like, “OMG it’s like a total mess here!” A simple, positive statement will do, such as, “Just so you’re aware, we’re currently upgrading our banquet facilities and you may encounter construction activity.” Do everything possible to address concerns—including, if necessary, letting the business walk. In the long run, your hotel will be better off. Hell hath no fury like a meeting planner not forewarned, and a scathing review on TripAdvisor will scare travelers off long after construction is finished. With larger construction projects you won’t be able to please everyone, so reserve the quietest rooms for your most desirable clientele. Be creative about how you respond to complaints; not everyone is looking for a freebie. Offer sincere apologies, ask how you can make it up to the guest, and respond accordingly.

Resist the temptation to be cute, like posting signs with cartoon characters in hardhats. If a guest is awoken by a dump truck unloading gravel outside her window, she won’t be amused. Years ago, when I worked at the Westin Harbour Castle in Toronto, management decided to make light of lobby renovations by dressing up two front desk employees per shift as construction workers. Upon reporting for duty one day I was handed a hardhat and an orange vest. “I don’t think so,” I said, handing them back—the hotel’s polyester uniform was humiliating enough. I was overruled. To my surprise, I found myself enjoying the construction worker role-play thing—until I had to deal with an irate guest. Partway through his rant, he stopped, blinked, and said, “What the hell are you wearing?” The hats and vests were discontinued shortly thereafter.

Our strategy at Opus wasn’t perfect. We lost our share of business, and a number of guests fell through the cracks. Yet by being transparent we built a relationship of trust with our clientele, and our guest satisfaction ratings and occupancy remained high throughout. All hotels experience construction at some point—it’s a necessity of keeping fresh and up-to-date—and many fall victim to offsite construction from which they reap no benefits. If your hotel provides an otherwise exceptional and unrivaled experience, your guests will be far more loyal and forgiving than you might expect.

These days, while many hotels are sitting half-empty, the time is ripe for capital upgrades and renovations. Unfortunately for most hotels, upgrades will have to wait until business is stronger—which means undergoing construction while occupancy is high. All the more reason to have a solid guest communication plan in place.

See a modified version of this post in The Vancouver Sun.

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Five-Star Mystery #3: Trevor buys a bed-and-breakfast. Is it haunted?

My latest novel is now out, and since it takes place in a bed-and-breakfast I thought it fitting to write a post on that subject.

First, a few words about Murder at Graverly Manor. In this third—and last—installment of the Five-Star Mystery series, hotelier Trevor Lambert returns to his hometown of Vancouver to recoup after suffering the trauma and drama of opening Hotel Cinema in Hollywood. When he happens upon an elegant Victorian mansion for sale in the city’s West End, he decides it’s time to pursue his dream of operating a bed-and-breakfast. But the eccentric proprietress, Lady Graverly, won’t sell until he completes a one-month trial period as innkeeper. Trevor quickly discovers that operating a B&B is far more challenging than he anticipated, and his troubles are exacerbated by vanishing residents, screams in the night, and Lady Graverly’s refusal to let him see her private quarters. When things start to go really haywire, former colleague Shanna Virani flies in from LA to help out. As the two hoteliers uncover the manor's dark secrets, they discover that its past is inextricably linked to Trevor’s destiny.

In researching this novel I learned to appreciate the unique offerings of this often-overlooked lodging segment. Bed-and-breakfasts provide an authentic, grassroots cultural experience, and as such are popular with foreign tourists. They’re cheaper than hotels, partly because they offer fewer amenities, and are more intimate, offering personal touches, décor and in-room amenities that reflect the city they’re in. There are no cavernous lobbies, no revolving doors and no conventioneers. In a B&B you’re likely to interact with other occupants as well as with the owners. And, of course, breakfast is included.

Being a private person and somewhat antisocial, I prefer the anonymity of hotels, where constant shift changes ensure that no one can keep tabs on my comings and goings. Hotel guests are busy and blessedly standoffish, and interactions are just how I like them: rare and superficial. Call me a curmudgeon, but I'm rarely interested in chatting with strangers, particularly before I’ve had a good strong cup of coffee. I do enough of that at work, where I’m paid for it. On airplanes, after a polite hello to my seatmates, I yank down imaginary shades on either side of me emblazoned with an upright middle finger, and then bury my nose in a book. I’m more open to social interaction in the evening, particularly with a glass of wine in hand, so the B&B ritual of guests congregating at cocktail hour is more appealing. Furthermore, in B&Bs the walls tend to be thin, the plumbing more resonant, which discourages loud music, headboard-slamming sex and off-tune shower singing, and alerts the entire household when you’re taking a pee.

A few years ago, on a trip to New York I stayed at the Inn at Irving Place, twelve rooms housed in two 1834 buildings in Gramercy Park. Its antique furniture, ornaments, and fabrics in every conceivable floral pattern made me feel like I was staying at someone’s grandma’s house. I lived in constant fear of breaking something. The manager’s desk was located at the foot of the staircase, and he was super-friendly and seemingly omnipresent. To evade the obligatory chitchat I contemplated scaling the fire escape, but feared I would cause a racket and get caught. Instead I would hunker down in my room, listening for the opportune time to bolt for the door without being accosted. The service was exceptional, the rooms charming, but on my return visit I booked the 185-room Gramercy Park Hotel. I like shiny new things.

I’m more inclined to appreciate a B&B while on vacation, when I’m less uptight, more sociable, and less prone to fits of quiet rage when service is slow. One of my best experiences was at a B&B just outside of Buenos Aires called Ave Maria. The food was homey and delicious, the rooms rustic and airy, and I could escape loquacious guests by hopping on a horse and galloping across acres of Argentine pampas.

Graverly Manor is a B&B’s worse-case scenario, and isn’t meant to represent the typical experience. For example, most B&Bs don’t come with a dead body in the cellar. Though I do recall a story way back about a German guest of a Miami Springs hotel complaining at checkout about an unpleasant odor in his room. The source turned out to be a dead body under the bed.

Like Trevor, people are often seduced by a false romantic notion of operating a bed-and-breakfast. They love hosting out-of-town guests, and reason that running a B&B should be a simple matter of a few extra place settings at the breakfast table. They soon discover that paying strangers aren’t as neat or respectful as friends and relatives (as a rule), and the work can be frenetic and unrelenting. Yet the proprietors who get it right, like my friends at the West End Guest House, provide an intimate, comfortable and economical option that is simply unrivaled by hotels.

On a personal note, on Monday I’m leaving for a six-month sojourn in Europe. Aside from loafing around and bastardizing languages, I’ll be working on my next book. I’ll keep the subject a mystery for now, but I will divulge one clue: it’s not a mystery. While there, I’ll be checking out all sorts of hotels and reporting in. But, given that I’m on a sabbatical from my hotel career this year, my champagne tastes will have to be put on ice for a while. I’ll be staying in B&Bs.

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Hotel Darwinism: Survival Tips for the Bold & Shameless

Lately I’ve come across all sorts of how-to articles for surviving in today’s economy, and it strikes me that, in typical fashion, the hotel industry is being far too polite. This is war, people; only the strongest will survive—for God’s sake don’t let it be your competitor. To secure your hotel’s place on the evolutionary scale, consider adopting some of the cutthroat tactics of our colleagues in other industries.

Make rates a moving target. These days, travelers demand discounts, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep lowering your rates. Instead, borrow a tactic from the retail industry and jack up your rack rates to give the illusion of huge discounts. Phrase it like this: “No, I’m not joking, Mr. Bottom-Feeder, I’m offering you this gorgeous Deluxe Land-Fill-View Room, which normally sells for $1,595, for only $99—a 94% discount!” Adopt the crafty pricing strategies of the airlines by changing rates constantly to confuse travelers. Advertise irresistibly low rates and then tack on hidden fees, inexplicable taxes and surcharges on surcharges. Implement automated pricing software that increases rates the instant the traveler decides to reserve.

Exasperate your guests for fun and profit. Design the online booking experience to be so frustrating guests have no choice but to call in, in which case they should be charged a booking fee. Create twenty or more room categories and insist on listing all of them, prompting time-pressed callers to blurt out, “Just book me a damned room,” in which case you should always reserve the highest-rated suite. If a caller insists on a standard room, politely explain that these rooms are reserved for the lowest echelon of traveler—namely government employees, Entertainment Book holders and Priceline customers—and are never available anyway.

Make frills and flexibility a thing of the past. Follow the shining example set by the airlines and reduce the guest experience to a room with a bed, charging a fee for everything else. Implement a luggage fee and charge extra for oversized baggage, baby carriages, wheelchairs, Seeing Eye dogs and portable dialysis machines. Charge a user fee for blankets, towels and soap and a fuel surcharge for hot water. Implement reservation change fees and charge a rate differential even if rates have gone down. If a guest cancels, charge the full amount and issue a voucher with so many conditions it’s impossible to redeem. Distribute stopwatches to front desk and housekeeping staff and charge by the minute for late checkouts and early check-ins.

Cut costs by delegating work to guests. Travelers have made it clear that nothing is more important than getting a deal—isn’t it time they made a few sacrifices of their own? Save labor costs by introducing “Do It Yourself” packages in which guests carry their luggage, clean their rooms and serve themselves meals. Reduce operating costs by closing your restaurant and having the turndown ladies sell pre-prepared meals from maid carts. In this time of “rightsizing”, does your hotel really need corporate office? Consider downsizing up.

Create new revenue streams with trumped-up charges. Implement a surcharge that sounds like a government tax but actually goes to the hotel, such as a “6% Hotel Occupancy Levy”. If a guest questions the charge, speak quickly and use lots of industry jargon. Reduce lost mini-bar revenue by hooking guests up to a polygraph machine at checkout. Process false charges to credit cards several weeks after departure, banking on the likelihood travelers will be too busy to dispute them. If they do, put them on hold for up to one hour and then transfer them to someone in Accounting who doesn’t speak English. Guests will pay exorbitant prices for parking, porn and Grey Goose vodka; test their limits by hiking up rates until consumption drops.

Boost your conversion ratio with false advertising. Post photographs on your website that make your rooms appear larger, cleaner and less dumpy than they are. If necessary, cut and paste images from websites of luxury hotels in foreign countries. Use superlatives like “award-winning”, “seven-star” and “most luxurious”. Guests will be disappointed, but the front desk will clean up the mess—they always do. Boost TripAdvisor ratings by posting glowing fake reviews, relating inspiring stories like how the concierge saved a guest’s life by giving him a tracheotomy after he choked on a pillow chocolate. Post blistering reviews of competitor hotels, reporting rumors of a faulty fire alarm system, a bed bug infestation or a recent e-coli outbreak.

Kickstart spin-off businesses. Now that mini-bar offerings have proliferated to virtually every surface in guestrooms and all furniture comes with a price tag, hotel rooms resemble a cross between a 7-Eleven and an Ikea showroom. Take this trend a step further by renting out your employees to guests to take home: a concierge to act as a personal assistant and issue Twitter updates; a bellman to act as a chauffeur and open doors; a housekeeper to ensure toilet paper ends are tucked into a perfect fold. Why allow items left behind in guestrooms to languish in lost-and-found when they can be sold on e-Bay? If guests call looking for them, remind them that the hotel cannot accept responsibility for lost or stolen items.

Necessary survival tactics or a lighthearted warning about the direction the hotel industry could be heading? You decide. If we can learn one thing from the airline industry, it’s that slashing services may make prices more attractive, but it doesn’t guarantee profitability. In fact, it deters people from travel by taking all the pleasure out of it. Hotels will be better positioned for long-term survival by continuing to offer a haven for harried travelers, providing the flexibility, the integrity—and yes, the occasional freebies—we built our reputations on.

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Don’t Eat in Bed: Tips for making the most of room service, the costliest way to enjoy a meal

For weary travelers, there’s nothing more appealing than having a hot, scrumptious meal delivered to our hotel room. Room service brings out the kid in us. We get to do things we can’t do at home: eat in bed, watch TV, and leave our dirty dishes in the hallway. Yet the experience rarely lives up to expectations. Meals take forever to arrive, food is cold and soggy, and prices mysteriously double after we place the order.

Hotels are often accused of gouging when it comes to pricing, but the costs of delivering a single meal to a room are comparable to running a full-service restaurant with only a few customers per night. It’s a service hotels provide to guests, and almost invariably it’s a money-loser. From a guest’s perspective, it’s one of the costliest ways to take a meal and everything should be perfect. But can it be?

As a hotelier and frequent traveler I’ve been on both sides of the room service quandary. I’ve thumbed through menus and huffed in indignation at the prices and I’ve chaired meetings where those prices were set. Last year, while living in a hotel for five months, I became intimately acquainted with the pros and cons of ordering a meal to one’s room. Here are some tips for hotel guests for making the most of the room service experience.

1. Consider Taco Bell. I’m loath to discourage guests from spending money, but in today’s economy it’s difficult to justify dropping the cost of a week’s worth of groceries on a single meal. Yet the alternatives can be bleak: dining alone in the wastelands of the hotel restaurant or foraging for food in the mean city streets. A more prudent decision might be to head down to the local Taco Bell for an enchilada platter. If you can’t bear to leave your room and miss the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen, consider raiding the mini-bar instead. Yes, a can of Pringles, a Kit Kat and two Buds is a revolting meal, but the calorie intake will be no greater, and in either case you’ll be filled with self-loathing afterward. Use the savings to splurge on breakfast in the hotel restaurant or beachfront property in Malibu.

2. Do the math. Ordering room service is like booking a flight on a discount airline: the base price sounds reasonable; it’s all the extra charges that leave you feeling swindled. In addition to taxes, hotels typically add a delivery charge—a lump-sum that goes to the hotel—and a service charge—a percentage that goes to the employee. Before confirming your order, ask for the grand total and clarify whether a gratuity is included. This spares you the embarrassment of struggling over simple math calculations while the delivery person is staring at you expectantly. A 15 to 20% gratuity on net food and beverage costs is standard. If the tip is included, don’t expect the attendant to volunteer this information; he’ll be long gone by the time you realize you double-tipped.

3. Ask the right questions. If you call down to place your order and think you’ve been patched through to a remote island in the South Pacific, it’s because room service is usually located in the bowels of a hotel next to the kitchen. In smaller hotels you might place your order with the front desk, the switchboard, or, if labor is really tight, the general manager. Don’t be shy about asking questions. If you’re a fussy eater, ask to talk to the kitchen directly. Keep in mind these people are busy, so try to have an idea of what you want before you call and avoid idle chitchat and long, boring stories. Before you hang up, make sure the attendant repeats your order and gives an estimated delivery time. It shouldn’t take more than a half-hour—forty-five minutes tops during peak times.

4. Don’t leave good habits at home. Room service food tends to be bland and overdone or rich and overdressed. To avoid feeling like barfing afterward, ask for sauces on the side, bypass fried foods, and order fruit for dessert. Don’t hesitate to order off-menu—any decent kitchen can whip up a green salad or grill a breast of chicken. But clarify prices first. At a Los Angeles hotel I told the order-taker I was so sick I wanted only a simple bowl of broth. She charged me $47. Go easy on the environment by requesting filtered tap water instead of bottled water and bulk condiments instead of those cute miniature bottles. Few hotels can afford to retain overnight kitchen staff, so after 11:00 PM expect a limited menu of pre-prepared items heated in the microwave. You might want to call the local pizza parlor instead. Or better yet, sleep off that booze-fueled craving.

5. Don’t expect Michelin three-star cuisine. Room service has come a long way in recent years, but it’s still virtually impossible to deliver a piping hot, perfectly cooked meal to a room in thirty minutes or less. Attendants must navigate a back-of-house obstacle course of broken furniture, soiled linen, slow service elevators and chatty colleagues. Food warmers help keep things hot but tend to overcook the meal. Before the attendant arrives do her a favor and put away your underwear, turn off the porn, and pull on a bathrobe, ensuring the belt is securely fastened. Before she leaves perform an inventory and quality control check; otherwise you might be buttering your dinner roll with a teaspoon. If you’re not satisfied, speak up and give the hotel a chance to remedy things—don’t eat every morsel and then complain at checkout.

6. Don’t eat in bed. The idea of eating in bed can be highly appealing, but the execution is always awkward and messy and sheets end up acting as very large napkins. To avoid tossing and turning in breadcrumbs all night, ask for your meal to be delivered on a rolling table rather than a tray—and use it. If you don’t want to wake up the next day to a horrific stench of festering leftovers, cover your plate with a napkin and place the tray in the corridor. Be sure to put on a bathrobe first, though—hotel doors self-close. Then call down to have the tray removed so your fellow guests don’t have to see your ketchup-smeared carnage when they pass your room. This also helps prevent the theft of shiny pretty silverware.

Yes, room service is expensive and fraught with risk, but in a well run hotel it will be quick, beautifully presented and served with a smile. There is simply no better way to relax on the road than by enjoying a meal in the comfort of your hotel room.

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Hotel Industry Trends in 2009: Deep discounting and do-it-yourself are in, green programs and healthful food are out

The new year has begun and so far it’s not pretty. With the hotel industry facing the lowest occupancy rates since 1971, a number of alarming trends are emerging. In the midst of all the doom and gloom I thought I’d take a more lighthearted approach to my predictions for the hotel industry in 2009.

1. Everything learned in revenue management training will go out the window. Hysteria will rule the day as hotels drop rates, get indignant when competitors lower rates in response, and then panic and drop rates even further. All inventory will be treated as distressed inventory, erasing years of brand-equity-building and training travelers to look for the best deals on third-party websites. It will take years to recover from these rate wars, and the only victor will be the traveler.

2. Travelers will become more demanding and less forgiving. Smelling the hotel industry’s desperation to fill rooms, travelers will demand even deeper discounts and more value add-ons, while at the same time refusing to tolerate the cuts to services hotels will be forced to implement to stay afloat, posting nasty comments on TripAdvisor like “Save your money! This hotel has gone to hell!!”

3. Service levels will nosedive. The labor shortage crisis of 2008, when hoteliers blamed poor service levels on lack of employee resources, will give way to the job shortage crisis of 2009, when hoteliers will blame poor service levels on tight labor budgets. Managers will be forced to cover frontline shifts to save labor costs, thereby revealing they have no clue how their department operates, resulting in a deluge of missed wakeup calls, accounting errors and guests checked into occupied rooms.

4. Eco-friendly initiatives will be tossed into the recycling bin. Faced with the realization that going green costs money, hotels will opt for programs that guilt the guest into making the sacrifices, such as the now-ubiquitous optional towel and sheet replacement program. Having discovered that guests will tolerate plastic recycling bins and off-white tissue paper, hotels will begin to phase out those adorable little bottles of shampoo, blackberry jam and Dijon mustard in favor of “eco-friendly” (cheap) bulk offerings.

5. Automation and do-it-yourself options will replace costly employees. Hotel managers, faced with the horror of having to deal with guests themselves, will consider previously unthinkable initiatives like automated check-in kiosks. New labor-saving programs will include make-your-own-bed-and-breakfast packages, do-it-yourself luggage carts, and computers standing in for concierges. Meanwhile, all gratuitous positions created during the halcyon days, like “tanning concierge”, “dream butler” and “pillow consultant”, will be summarily retired.

6. The trend toward offering more healthful food choices in restaurants, room service and mini-bars will be reversed as hotels realize that cheeseburgers, Coke and Kit Kats sell better and are more profitable.

7. Lifestyle hotels will spring up as quickly as Starbucks outlets are closing. Customization will be taken a step further, with such options as the daily repainting of rooms to match the guest’s wardrobe, smart lighting that adjusts according to the guest’s mood, and hotels designed exclusively for germophobes, anarchists and narcissists. Meanwhile, lifestyle hotels will continue to confuse guests with cutesy names for traditional positions like “comfort consultant” for housekeeper, “personal nutritionist” for waitress and “ambassador to happiness” for front desk agent.

8. Complimentary amenities will mysteriously vanish. “Amenity Creep”, the one-upmanship game hotels played during prosperous times by adding superfluous items like lip balm, wrinkle cream and nose-hair trimmers, will give way to “Amenity Retreat”, in which all but essential items will be removed and guests will be charged for non-essential items like blankets, soap and hot water. Meanwhile, dog-friendly hotels will be phased out as hotels realize that dogs are not hotel-friendly.

9. The boutique-hotel-as-nightclub trend will spread to traditional hotels like Ritz Carlton, Fairmont and Four Seasons. Lobbies will morph into late-night clubs, with Bach concertos replaced by techno grooves from in-house DJs. Traditional doormen in Beefeater-style uniforms will be supplanted by lobby hostesses in booty shorts, and the mantra “It’s my pleasure, sir” will surrender to “Hey, no problem, man.”

10. Standalone hotels will be a thing of the past. Mixed-use developments, in which hotels are housed in the same complex as condos, retail outlets and office space and condo owners shoulder the burden of costly hotel construction by paying for access to services they will never use, will expand to include hospitals, churches and crematoriums to ensure guests never check out.

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Home Sweet Hotel: Living in a Hotel

The increasing popularity of condo-hotel developments has put within reach a lifestyle previously reserved for the rich and famous: living in a hotel. Having been living in a hotel for the past few months, I’ve discovered that it’s not as always as glamorous as it sounds. For any aspiring Donald Trumps out there, a cautionary tale.

Earlier this year, I was approached about relocating to Montreal to live on property as a consultant to the management team of Opus Montreal. With visions of a grandiose lifestyle, I signed a three-month contract. But just prior to my departure things took an unexpected turn when the general manager resigned. Suddenly, I would no longer be working bankers’ hours as an overpaid consultant. I’d be on the front lines as the hotel’s acting resident manager.

Upon arrival I was installed in chic and modern room with red walls. It was only 325 square feet, and had no kitchen, balcony or vibrating bed, but we human beings are natural nesters, and soon it felt like home. The advantages of hotel living became immediately obvious: I would never have to run a vacuum; I had an army of staff on standby to cater to my every whim; and my commute was a short elevator ride to the lobby. I could order room service every night, watch pay movies, and raid the mini-bar—all for free. Each night my bed was turned down for me, chocolates placed on my pillow, and toilet paper rolls tucked into a perfect fold. I had little bottles of shampoo, blackberry jam and vodka, all just for me.

The work was all-consuming, but I loved being back in the thick of things. Then one day it occurred to me I hadn’t left the property in three days. I had earned respect for the hours I worked, but it was only because I had no friends and had nothing better to do. I was getting lazy, spoiled and out of shape. The hotel’s food was amazing, but sometimes I just wanted a peanut butter sandwich. Serious changes were in order. I filled my mini-bar with healthy foods, purchased a microwave and toaster, reduced housekeeping visits to once per week, and started going to a local gym.

Remember Eloise, that precocious six-year-old in children’s storybooks who lived in the penthouse suite at New York’s Plaza Hotel? She always found time for mischief. The difference between Eloise and me is I’m running the joint, which takes all the fun out of hotel living. I’m acutely aware that employees are observing me. Not that I’m paranoid, I’m just a bit neurotic. I don’t want the maid to think I’m a slob, so I make the bed and wipe down the sink before she cleans my room. I’m convinced that restaurant staff hate me because, in accordance with industry practice, I tip only 10% on meals. And while I love how my clothes come back from dry-cleaning all pressed and fresh-smelling, the thought of colleagues sorting through my dirty laundry is a bit unsettling.

One of the allures of hotels is anonymity. Guests can check in, make a mess, be obnoxious, and check out with impunity. I don’t have that luxury here. I can’t be grumpy or difficult, and I can’t stumble in drunk with two hookers on my arms. Not that I ever would, but the fact that I can’t feels oppressive. There’s a nightclub here, Suco, and I’ve considered hanging out there and trying to meet some cool, beautiful Montreal types, but I fear they’ll think I’m a sad, desperate predator, the resident lounge lizard. Fortunately, it’s not really an issue because I can’t stay awake past 10:00. Well, not usually. On a recent Saturday I went out to “faire la fête” with friends from Vancouver and got back at 5:00 AM. Not wanting staff to see me, I skulked through the back entrance, only to run smack into a couple of bar staff getting off shift. “Fun night, Mr. Craig?” one of them asked with a snicker.

When I spend too much time in my room I start to worry I’m becoming Howard Hughes, with those crazed eyes and long yellow toenails. I try to get out more, but unlike at home I don’t have the freedom to wander around in my bathrobe. Even during my time off I feel uncomfortable in jeans because hotel employees aren't supposed to wear street clothes in public areas. I think the rule has something to do with guests not wanting to know that the staff they’re abusing are real people. Returning from the gym one night, I had to deal with a situation in the lobby in a sweaty muscle shirt and shorts. Another time I was crossing the lobby in my weekend casuals when a gaggle of irate meeting planners accosted me. Six hours later they released me from their clutches.

When I’m in my street clothes I’m never sure how to behave around guests. Do I act like one of them and avoid eye contact? Or do I act like an employee and smile, engaging them in friendly conversation? I’ve found that the latter approach can lead to frantic elevator-button pressing, particularly from Torontonians. Around employees I feel obligated to speak French, or at least to mumble a few badly-pronounced words to show my deep respect for the culture. But, like other Canadian students, after four years of university French I discovered I couldn’t speak a word. I’m taking lessons now, but I’m pretty sure my instructor thinks I have a severe learning disability. Sometimes it’s just easier to stay in my room.

When I travel I like to bring a magazine down to the hotel restaurant and read over dinner. Here I find myself in Koko holding impromptu meetings with staff and guests, signing purchase orders, and sometimes even bussing tables while my food goes cold and my magazine sits unread. I don’t mind, though. Meetings are so much more enjoyable with a glass of wine in my hand.

In September a citywide convention coincided with a strike at several Montreal hotels, leaving a number of hotels overbooked. One night I got mired in a nasty relocate situation with a group of travel-weary Germans. They returned to Opus the next day, and every time I ran into them—far too often since we were cohabitating—they stared daggers at me. To avoid relocating more guests I packed my bags to free up my room and moved into an office. That night, as I stared up at the ceiling from my little cot and thought about all the happy people out there in apartments, I realized I had never been surrounded by so many people yet felt so alone.

Recently, my contract was extended. These days, I make my own bed, eat out most of the time, and even have a few friends. Yet the longer I live in the hotel the more it consumes me. Resistance is futile. I’ve considered renting an apartment, but the truth is I’d miss it. There’s no better way to manage a hotel than to eat, sleep and breathe it. But would I ever move into a condo-hotel complex? Not likely. I don't mind opening my own doors.

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Celebrity Guests: Stars Want to Meet the Hotel Manager and Other Misconceptions

These days it seems every brand wants to hop on the celebrity bandwagon, and hotels are no exception. Having a star in-house can create great buzz, but pursuing the entertainment market is not always in a hotel’s best interest. Next time Beyoncé is coming to town, take a few minutes to evaluate your hotel before calling her travel agent.

1. Play by their rules. Entertainment business can be volatile. Bookers require flexibility and are often unwilling to sign a contract, which means the hotel takes the hit when there are last-minute changes. Music groups reserve large room blocks but stay only one or two nights, making it difficult to fill rooms before and after. Don’t allow the excitement of a celebrity’s arrival distract staff from getting a credit card—collecting after departure can be challenging. I’m still mad at an uber-rich rock star who left without paying and has never paid up.

2. Is your service star-caliber? Entertainers work hard on the road and sleep irregular hours. Hotel staff must be on-the-ball around the clock. Hotel riders used to be full of bizarre demands until they started getting published online; now they’re less about which vodka to stock in the suite and more about the mineral water. To ensure there are no surprises, review details with the booker in advance. And don’t believe rumors. A colleague warned me that Janet Jackson doesn’t like to be looked in the eye, which made check-in a little awkward, but she looked at me squarely, smiled, and said, “Hi, I’m Janet!” No “Miss Jackson if you’re nasty” though.

3. Beware of rising and falling stars. I’ve hosted bad-ass rockers who were perfect gentlemen and honey-voiced pop stars who were total nightmares. Seasoned stars rarely cause trouble, it’s the rising stars and falling stars who are more likely to seek reaffirmation through outrageous demands, tantrums and binges. The ubiquity of tabloids and celebrity blogs—not to mention credit cards on file—means stars can’t get away with trashing hotel rooms anymore. In 1992 I tried to shut down a raucous hot tub party held by U2 and was assailed by f-bombs. When I hosted them again years later they were as gracious as elder statesmen.

4. Don’t issue a media release upon arrival. Yes, you want the world to know that Brad and Angelina love your yam fries, but privacy must be paramount. The hotel should have one appointed spokesperson and all other staff should be forbidden from comment. Name-dropping to the media has become acceptable, but wait until after departure, phrase it as “spotted at”, and don’t provide details. Appearing on Entertainment Tonight with the contents of Madonna’s trash might get you exposure, but it’s the quickest way of ensuring she’ll never come back.

5. Careful with pseudonyms. When asked if a celebrity is in-house, staff should always answer an unequivocal no. Some stars use pseudonyms, but even these aren’t foolproof. Years ago, a local woman who got cozy with a star at my hotel was given the boot when his wife and kids arrived. She used his pseudonym to be put through to the room and had a little chat with the wife. Minutes later, a duty manager was summoned to the room to play interference while the wife hurled objects like lamps at the star.

6. Don’t expect stars to pay for suites. Suites are part of the glamorous Hollywood image, right? Not necessarily. Stars frequently stay in regular rooms, often due to production budget limitations. Bookers like to exploit the hotel’s eagerness by demanding upgrades and other concessions. As a result, celebrities may stay in suites, but they’re often paying far less than your average cash-strapped traveler. Don’t expect a lot of incidental revenues either; most of a star’s time is spent off-property.

7. Don’t ask for tickets to the show. Sometimes a tour manager will offer tickets, but they should never be solicited. Are they asking for free rooms? If your general manager coerces you into asking on behalf of his tween daughter, don’t bother the band, ask the tour manager—and offer something in return. When tickets are offered, they should be distributed equitably and winners should be required to show up. A while back, REM gave my staff a block of front-row tickets and several of them no-showed. Not cool.

8. Stars don’t want to meet the hotel manager. GMs, suspiciously absent when a VIP group convener from Kansas needs an escort, miraculously materialize for a star meet-and-greet. But stars don’t want pomp, they want to be left alone. A GM’s time is better spent ensuring everything is immaculate in advance and leaving a handwritten note and thoughtful amenity. But don’t go overboard. Once I had an actor check in for a three-month stay, only to move to an apartment the next day, taking the $150 gift basket with him. If you want to know if Fabio is enjoying his stay, ask housekeeping; they always know what’s going on.

Yes, hosting celebrities can be glamorous, but unless you’re willing to play by their rules it might make better business sense to take that lackluster corporate group.

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Five-Star Mystery #2: Murder at Hotel Cinema is Now Out!

The moment you've been waiting for!
(or at least I have). To purchase Murder at Hotel Cinema visit your local bookstore (ask them to order if it's not in stock) or order on line. For info on upcoming signings click here.

This week, Opus Hotel asked me to make a Special Celebrity Guest Appearance (okay, my words) on its blog for old times’ sake. Here it is:

Return of the Intrepid Blogger
It’s me again! Did you miss me? Did you even notice I was gone? Don’t worry, I haven’t returned to my old job as general manager of Opus. I’ve been asked to do a guest spot on this blog. Apparently Katrina has been “busy”, but I every time I walk past Glowbal I see her sipping wine on the patio.

[Note from Katrina: FUNNY, Dan. It’s more like guzzling bad coffee on Montreal-bound flights. Now if we’re talking patio-tippling, I believe there have been numerous sightings of an certain author…]

It’s been five looong months since I left Opus to finish my book, and, well, it’s been hell. If I ever questioned whether I loved my job before, I don’t anymore. Managing a hotel is not easy, but writing is ten times harder. Spending all that time with no one to talk to but an evil voice that keeps telling you you’re a fraud can play nasty tricks on your psyche. (That voice used to say the same thing when I was a hotel manager but there were more people around to drown it out).

The good news is, my third book is done and my second, Murder at Hotel Cinema, is out this month. Continuing with the hotel whodunit theme, this one is about the murder of a troubled celebrity at the opening party of a fashionable Hollywood hotel—that is not unlike Opus. When his prized employees become suspects, general manager Trevor Lambert struggles to protect them from the incriminating glare of the LAPD and the prying eyes of reporters, risking everything to expose the killer. Oooh scary! My launch takes place later this month—where else but Opus? After that I’ll be a free agent, so if you know anyone looking for someone to do very little work for lots of money, send them my way.

Truth is, I never fully severed ties with Opus. Not only do I drop in regularly to beg staff to tell me they still love me, but I’ve also done some project work, most recently having updated the Lifestyle Concierge, which will be up and running soon. On a recent visit I was thrilled to see a development proposal for a 250-seat restaurant on Opus’s rooftop. Hot! I’m thinking of applying as a suntan lotion boy, but only if I can wear little white shorts and make enough tips to never have to write again. I was also happy to hear about the opening of Koko in Montreal, which I’m told was the party of the year—and no murders! So much for new writing material.

I used to shy away from commenting on the Vancouver hotel scene, but now that I’m a Special Guest Star with no real accountability, I thought I’d put out a few random Deep Hotel Thoughts:

1. Where are the guests going to come from?
It’s fantastic to see all the new hotels under development in Vancouver, but after the 2010 Olympics it’s going to be a fierce market. Only those who offer a superior product will thrive. Go Opus!

2. Does Vancouver need another Fairmont?
Not that Fairmont doesn’t run fantastic hotels, but with the 415-room Fairmont Pacific Rim scheduled to open in mid-2009 there will be four Fairmonts in Vancouver, plus one in Whistler and another in Victoria. Maybe too much of a good thing? I think Fairmont should give one back. We’ll take the new one.

3. Will Hotel Loden ever open?
I remember the drama when Opus was delayed by a few months and can certainly empathize with the opening team at Loden. By my calculation it’s about seventeen years behind schedule, but maybe it just feels that way. Let’s get a move on, builders, it’s lonely on the boutique front and Opus is looking forward to some friendly competition.

Well, that’s it for now. It’s been great reconnecting. Hopefully I’ll be invited back. If not, you can always visit me at my website. Until then, be cool, don’t forget to tip the maid, avoid hotel rooms with floral bedspreads, and remember to put on a bathrobe before you put that room service cart in the hallway—hotel room doors self-close.

Oh, and don’t forget to enter to win TV Week’s Sex and the City Weekend package, including two nights at Opus with breakfast and parking, spa treatments at Spruce, a Sex and the City DVD set and, la pièce de résistance, cocktails with me at Opus (but no sex, just city) and a signed copy of Murder at Hotel Cinema. Good luck!

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Super-size Me: Why Everyone Gets Upgraded But You

Upgrades are less frequent now that hotels have implemented sophisticated revenue management practices, but they’re still common. They tend to occur when a hotel is sold out because hotels often oversell lower-rated inventory and must upgrade in order to fill all rooms. If you travel frequently and never get upgraded, you might want to take a good hard look at your travel habits.

Why everyone else gets upgraded:

1. They pay a high rate. The higher your rate, the better your chances of being extended special favours. That’s why government employees fall at the bottom of the pecking order when it comes to upgrades. If you want to be bumped up to the presidential suite, your odds will increase if you book the next highest category.

2. They book direct. Third-party websites like Expedia skim up to 30% off your rate, which makes you a low-rated guest in the eyes of the hotel no matter how much you shelled out. If you book direct, the hotel gets the full rate, which bumps you up in the upgrade hierarchy.

3. They’re loyal. Even if your hotel doesn’t have a loyalty program, it likely tracks stays. As a frequent guest you should get priority when upgrades are available.

4. They ask nicely. As a hotelier I’m loath to advise travelers to request something for nothing, but if you really want an upgrade then ask. If you’re too shy, ask the agent what she recommends for a nice room or good view. Front desk staff are more powerful than you think. If you ever get a lousy room, think about how you behaved at check-in. If your request is declined, be gracious and don’t take it personally. Hotels want you to be happy, but they’re a business.

5. They have a good reason. If you’re celebrating a special occasion, tell the reservations agent. But don’t expect her to upgrade you; she’s trained to squeeze every possible dollar out of you. Ask her to note the occasion in your reservation and be specific about the type of room you want. The front desk reviews special requests on day of arrival and tends to have a soft spot for special occasions. Whatever you do, don’t lie. You might get an upgrade, but you’ll go to hell.

6. They arrive late. In a full-house situation hotels often wait until late in the day to upgrade because they can save costs if there are no-shows and the suites go unoccupied. It’s the after-midnight arrivals who often get the penthouse suite. Of course, this only happens when you’re alone, are exhausted, and have a 6:00 AM flight the next morning.

7. They’re important. And by this I don’t mean self-important. The sad reality is the people who can most afford to pay for a suite are the most likely to get upgraded because hotels want to impress them.

8. They have a legitimate complaint. Speak up if you’re not happy with your room or have been mistreated. But don’t complain for the sole purpose of getting an upgrade—the hotel will be reluctant to give it to you.

Why you don’t get upgraded:

1. You’re obnoxious. Did you demand an upgrade rather than ask nicely? Did you drop the owner’s name—and mispronounce it? Were you wearing sunglasses?

2. You slipped the bellman a $20. An article I came across makes this ludicrous suggestion. First of all, you tipped the wrong person. Bellmen have no control over hotel inventory. But don’t tip the front desk either. That’s not tipping, it’s bribery. You’re asking the employee to do something that could get her in trouble.

3. You’re obsequious. Another article recommends informing the desk agent you’ll write a note to management about how helpful he was if he upgrades you. This is as unsavory as slipping him a $20 and will likely produce the same result. If you’re happy with his service, write the letter, but don’t use it as a bribing tool.

4. You’re staying too long. One- and two-nighters have a better chance of getting upgraded because they tie the suite up for less time. If you’re staying longer, being willing to take a suite for a night or two and then switching back might help your chances.

5. You’re cheap. Many hotels give upsell incentives to front desk staff, so don’t be surprised if you inquire about a better room and get a sales pitch. The differential can cost far less than through reservations. It’s not an upgrade, but it’s still a great deal. If you can’t afford it, politely decline. You might get bumped up anyway.

6. You called the general manager. Several “travel gurus” recommend this tactic. As a former GM I assure you it’s no way to ingratiate yourself. GMs love hearing from guests, but not if they’re angling for a free upgrade.

7. Your profile is flagged “do not upgrade”. Guest profiles record more than your favourite colour of M&Ms, they also record bad behavior, like when you wigged out when you didn’t get an upgrade on your last stay. If you’re abusive, rest assured your profile will be permanently red-flagged.

8. You arrived with a trunk-load of booze and a four-piece band. Hotels covet their suites and will not upgrade if they think you won’t respect the space. In the past I’ve upgraded people and they’ve held a raucous party in the suite. Not cool.

If you are lucky enough to get upgraded, don’t forget to acknowledge the people who made it happen. If you do all the right things and still never get upgraded, don’t get all paranoid, sometimes it’s just the luck of the draw. And remember, the only surefire way of getting that suite or heart-shaped vibrating bed is to cough up.

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Lifestyle Hotels: You Are Where You Stay

While in Safeway the other day to purchase laundry detergent I was so overwhelmed by the array of choices I almost left without buying anything. How did the simple process of purchasing laundry soap become a highly emotional, self-defining exercise? My conscience told me I should go with the eco-friendly choice, but part of me really wanted my clothes to smell Tide Mountain Fresh™. “WHY PAY MORE?” shouted the ABC label—a valid point, but did I want to be seen at checkout with that tacky box? A myriad of other benefits screamed for my attention. Dawn Stainscrubbers™! Colorguard™! All Stainlifters™! If I made the wrong choice, would glaciers melt and whites turn pink? What if I wanted all the features? That option didn’t appear to be available. I was forced to choose what was most important to me.

This constant one-upmanship among brands, the relentless quest for “New and Improved!” features, has made what used to be simple purchase decisions highly complex. Hotels are no exception. There used to be three types of hotels—budget, mid-range and luxury—and you made your decision based on location and price. Things started to get complicated in the 1980s. That’s when somebody realized that all hotel lobbies don’t have to be made of brass and marble, all guestrooms don’t have to be beige, and all lobby bars don’t have to be boring. We can thank Ian Schrager and Philippe Starck for leading the revolution.

Since then, boutique hotels have become enormously popular, but because of higher pricing and urban locations the market has been mostly restricted to young and affluent big-city travellers. All that is changing with the next generation of boutique hotels: the soon-to-be ubiquitous “lifestyle hotel”. Ironically, whereas boutique hotels were created as an alternative to chain hotels, this segment is being driven by the chains. In an attempt to recapture lost business and to capture new business, the chains are bringing the boutique concept to the masses. Lifestyle hotels cater to the traveler who wants to pack more than his PJs when going on the road, he wants to take is entire lifestyle: technology, health and wellbeing, social life, the dog and even eco-friendly practices.

One of these chains is aloft hotels. With its promise of “urban-influenced design, accessible technology, style and a social atmosphere”, the concept sounds like a cheap knockoff of W Hotels, and it is—except Starwood had the foresight to do it themselves. W was the first to turn the boutique concept into a chain, and now they’re repackaging this highly successful product into what appears to be a cheaper, more accessible and somewhat generic version.

Starwood is also introducing element, an extended-stay chain "inspired by Westin Hotels". Whereas contemporary boutique hotels cater to the hedonistic lifestyle, element targets the health-minded and socially conscious traveler. Earlier promotions touted low-flow sinks and toilets, eco-friendly materials, low-energy light bulbs, and shampoo and conditioner dispensers to help guests recycle, conserve and maintain a lower impact lifestyle on the road (although these features are not currently listed on the website). Progressive and commendable ideas, but shouldn't all hotels be doing this these days?

The third lifestyle chain worth noting is Edition, which brings together a highly improbable duo: Bill Marriott and Ian Schrager. A recent media release says Edition will “will reflect changing lifestyles and cater to a vast, underserved market of guests expecting and in turn demanding a unique experience, not merely a place to sleep. The properties, while distinct, will all emphasize good design, quality, originality, authenticity and character, while delivering impeccable, modern and gracious personalized service.” A tall order, but with Schrager leading the concept, design, marketing and food and beverage and Marriott overseeing development and operations, Edition will undoubtedly be a strong performer.

It’s interesting to note that in August 2006, around the time the incredible Gramercy Park Hotel (above) opened, Schrager told USA Today, “You know when Marriott is doing it that it's time to move on." We’ll give this brilliant man the benefit of the doubt and assume he’s come on board to change this perception.

Like boutique hotels, lifestyle hotels will be small (under 200 rooms), but whereas modern boutique hotels tend to be found in big cities, lifestyle hotels will focus primarily on secondary markets: smaller cities, outskirts and suburbs. Bizarrely, the first aloft and element properties, expected to open later this year, are being built next door to each other in Lexington, Massachusetts. Almost 75 aloft hotels are currently under development, whereas Starwood anticipates 500 element hotels worldwide. Edition, announced only in January, is trailing behind, but intends to go international from the outset, with the first hotel expected in 2010.

So, much like buying a cup of coffee, a car or laundry detergent, choosing a hotel is about to become a much more complex process, one that will reveal as much about your budget as who you are.

And in case you were wondering, I went with Tide Mountain Fresh™. My clothes smell really, really nice.

Hotel Grooming Standards: When the Breakfast Hostess Shows Up in Hooker Boots

Walking into a hotel in Seattle last month, I did a double-take when I saw an employee behind the front desk with a black eye. I assumed he just looked tired, maybe he worked a double shift. Hotels can do that to you—beat you up. But on closer inspection there was no denying it: he had a big purple shiner. I had to wonder what possessed management to schedule him when he looked like he belonged on the door of a biker bar. Were they that short-staffed?

This black eye is symbolic of the current state of the hospitality industry: bruised and battered by labour shortages. New hotels are popping up across the continent and there are simply not enough qualified people to staff them. The crisis isn’t exclusive to the hotel industry. Everywhere I go, whether it’s a coffee shop or retail store, I encounter the poorly trained, the inexperienced, the linguistically challenged, and employees who just aren’t the right fit. But nowhere is the problem more glaring than in hotels, where employees should be as sparkling and polished as the silver spoons in the hotel restaurant.

The shrinking labour pool has forced hotels to do the unthinkable: compromise. I can see the desperation of the HR manager in the faces of the scruffy staff I encounter. “Well, she’s not the ideal fit with that eyebrow piercing and dog collar,” she tells herself, “and there’s that three-year gap in her resume she can’t explain, but I have no other candidates and if I don’t fill this position soon the department is going to lynch me.” She reminds herself that sometimes risks pay off. “Think of Bob in Accounting. We had our misgivings, but just look how—oh right, Bob got fired for embezzling. Never mind.”

Hotels typically have rigid rules for personal presentation, but these standards appear to be slipping. Years ago an AAA Five-Diamond hotel I worked at had a section on grooming standards in the employee manual that rivaled the Holy Bible. Bad hair was a source of personal vexation for the general manager, who was nicknamed the Hair Police for her zero tolerance policy. A small scandal occurred when a front desk agent showed up wearing a black bra instead of the requisite white bra and it was visible through her opal blouse. Females had to wear dresses or skirts, and one of the housekeeping staff, a bit of a tomboy, was so uncomfortable in a skirt she opted to work graveyard shifts, where she could get away with wearing pants. Since then things have changed at this hotel—females can now wear pants—but so has its rating: it’s now a Four-Diamond hotel.

However oppressive, rules of presentation are essential to hotels because employees are a reflection of the brand. You don’t spend millions of dollars on interior décor only to have the breakfast hostess show up in a tube top and hooker boots. Consistency is important too. But some hotels take it too far, churning out a line of front desk staff so cloned and clinical you feel like you’re checking in at a Clinique counter.

Independent hotels and especially contemporary hotels have more latitude to allow employees to exhibit individual style and personality. This can be refreshing, but it’s also risky. Too much style and not enough personality and you get the model-types who look great but have all the warmth and depth of a mannequin. Too much personality and not enough style and you get chatty, overly familiar front desk agents wearing polyester scarves. I love to see individual style and personality shine through, but I don’t want to be served breakfast by Marilyn Manson and I don’t want to hear about the relationship problems of the woman turning down my bed. Call me a curmudgeon.

Problem is, as soon as a hotel relaxes the rules someone ruins it for everyone by showing up with a frosted perm or a safety pin in his nose. When an employee showed up at Opus with a seventies-style moustache we very quickly implemented a no facial-hair policy. One Halloween we thought it would be fun to allow staff to wear costumes—until a bellman reported for duty in full drag. An emergency executive meeting was called and, after much soul-searching, we decided that as much as we admired his chutzpah, we had to think of how our guests might react to a guy in a skirt with big fake boobs carrying their bags. This wasn’t Bangkok after all. So we sent him home to change, and didn’t encourage staff to dress up again.

Way back when while I was working at the Harbour Castle Westin we were undergoing lobby renovations. Management decided to make light of the disarray by having front desk staff dress up as construction workers. It seemed like a cute idea until I had to deal with an extremely irate guest while wearing a construction hat and orange vest.

Last year at the W Montreal I was at the front door desperately searching for a staff member to assist me. All I could see were long-haired ruffians in faded jean-jackets. It wasn’t until one of them approached me that I saw the W stitched into his collar. W Hotels is to be commended for introducing style to hotel uniforms, but this might be taking things a bit too far.

If hotels allowed more individualism and personal expression they would attract a larger pool of candidates, which would help fill some long-empty vacancies. But that doesn’t mean compromising. Guests who are paying hundreds of dollars a night for a room have the right to expect staff to look polished and professional. If an employee doesn’t take pride and care with his appearance, how can he be relied on to take pride and care with guests?

And by “personal expression” I don’t mean it’s okay to show up with a black eye. If that happens, send the employee home or put him on switchboard until the bruising heals.

Check out my previous post for a few of my more unconventional ideas for addressing the labour shortage. And for a satirical look at grooming standards read Murder at the Universe, in which the fictional Universe Hotel hires on “sparkle factor” and fires for simply not smiling enough.

Hotel Management: Is Looking Like Hell an Occupational Hazard?

While in Seattle last week I was reminded of the saying, “If cocktails and dinner isn’t your idea of a pleasant evening, you probably work in the hotel industry.” I stayed at my favourite Seattle property, Hotel Andra, and had breakfast with my friend Julia, the managing director. When she made her entrance—as hotel managers like to do—I was shocked to see how great she looked. Not that she ever looked bad, but it’s me on leave, not her—I should be the one who looks amazing. Sadly, many hotel managers experience a slow and unrelenting descent into premature aging, bad health, and multiple chins. It’s an occupational hazard due to long days, high stress and too much entertaining.

Over breakfast at Lola—I had the Feta Scramble with toast and hash browns and she had a non-fat latte—Jules and I exchanged our secrets for staying trim and fit. When she doesn’t feel like boozing it up with a client she orders a vodka cranberry and the bartender knows to hold the vodka. Her client is none the wiser, and she can go to the gym afterwards instead of stumbling home and face-planting on the sofa. At Opus I had a similar arrangement. I would order a beer and the server would bring a non-alcoholic beer. It tasted like carbonated dishwater, but it saved me from following the same path as Amy Winehouse. What hotel manager has time for rehab? It also kept me from getting tanked in front of staff and guests, never a good idea.

Hosting dinners is trickier. A typical dinner lasts three to four hours, sometimes longer. Spending that much time across the table from a stranger can be daunting, particularly if it’s One-Word-Answer Willie from the National Rifle Association. By midnight you’re self-mutilating to stay awake. You’ve been at work since 7:00 AM, yet you’re expected to arrive first thing the next morning your usual perky self. Groups are easier. If the travel agent beside you puts a liver-spotted hand on your upper thigh one time too many you can change seats under the auspices of mingling.

During these dinners lulls in conversation used to terrify me. I would fill them with mindless blather or by firing questions at my guest, exhausting him, too busy thinking up more questions to listen to his replies. I realize now that lulls are good—provided they don’t last longer than ten minutes. A drawn-out dinner can be equally painful for the client, who has to endure all your waxing on about commitment to service and quality, as if she’s never heard it from another hotelier. The secret to being a good host is to shut the f**k up.

If you entertain frequently, the easiest way to avoid turning into Jabba the Hut is to order non-alcoholic drinks and bypass appetizers and desserts. But how much fun are you to the guy with a wife and five kids at home who’s guzzling martinis and ordering every item on the menu? A thoughtful host encourages his guest to order liberally and matches him course by course. The key is to be judicious. Salads are good, foie gras is bad. Don’t feel you have to eat everything on your plate and try to avoid licking it. Opt for a fruit plate instead of the chocolate soufflé. And take small, infrequent sips of wine; your guest will never know he’s consumed most of the bottle.

An alternative to dinner is early cocktails and appetizers. Lunch is also a good option because it doesn’t extend your workday. At least not usually. When I was at the Pan Pacific a particularly boozy lunch lasted through dinner and late into the evening. It’s polite to offer your guest wine at lunch but it’s okay if you don’t indulge; she understands you’re working. She’s probably on vacation or on a drastically reduced work schedule, so she has all the time in the world to tell stories about her darnedest cat Mr. Wiggles. Meanwhile, your emails are piling up, you just missed your third meeting, and the bellman is at the hostess stand chatting up the hostess while guests are waiting to be seated. After lunch, you crawl back to your office feeling bloated and faintly nauseous, only to have to slog through piles of paperwork or suffer through interminable meetings, where your boozy breath prompts expressions of concern.

Breakfast is the safest option because it’s quick and there’s no booze (usually). But I prefer to reserve mornings for catching up on email, returning calls and reading trade mags. Otherwise I’m buried for the day. After breakfast meetings I used to find myself so jacked up on caffeine I couldn’t focus. I would come up with what I thought was a brilliant idea and gather colleagues to share it, only to be greeted by tolerant smiles and glances at watches. Around 2:00 PM I’d collapse on my desk in a semi-comatose state of post-overcaffeination.

There’s also the issue of Menu Fatigue, the result of eating the same food in your hotel restaurant day after day. Granted, eating so well is a privilege, but sometimes you just want a peanut butter sandwich. The first (and last) time I had my mother in for lunch at Elixir, she perused the menu, proclaimed it too fussy and complex, and ordered a beer and French fries.

A final note. Sometimes you have no choice in the matter since a good hotelier always puts the desires of his guests above his own. If an important client wants to party, you’re in for the long haul. It’s part of what makes for a successful hotel. And a squishy hotelier.

Incidentally, in Seattle Julia and I went out for dinner. There were no virgin cocktails, no tiny sips of wine and no skipped desserts. We broke all the rules except one: we went off property.

South Beach Hotels: Oh How the Mighty Have Fallen

Since I left my job four weeks ago to focus on writing, the transition from hotel manager to, well, unemployed loser has been challenging at times. I’ve gone through all the stages of grief: denial (“I didn’t quit. It’s all a terrible misunderstanding.”); anger (“What in God's name was I thinking?”); bargaining (“But I could do odd jobs in housekeeping”); depression (“Nobody even cares if I get up in the morning.”); and, finally, acceptance (“Sleeping in is fun!”). But my freefall in status has never been more apparent than last week when I overnighted in Miami after a cruise. (Okay, so it hasn’t been all bad).

In my past life I would have refused to stay anywhere but one of the hot luxury hotels in South Beach. I would contact my counterpart to request an industry rate, and any savings would be offset by reckless spending on drinks, lavish dinners and prostitutes. (Kidding about that last part, just exercising my new freedom as a non-hotel manager).

But as I picked up the phone to call the GM of Hotel Victor it struck me that I was no longer entitled to an industry rate. To introduce myself as a “former hotel manager” just wouldn’t carry the same weight. I considered saying I was a writer of hotel murder mysteries but I knew how I would have reacted: “Who the f**k cares?” If I said I was contemplating setting my next mystery in his hotel maybe he'd offer to comp the room. But no, I could never compromise my artistic integrity that way. Maybe for a two-week stay, but not for one night.

So, I was forced to join the realm of regular travelers, those wretched people who actually pay the rates hotels quote. Fortunately, over the years I’ve learned a few tricks of the trade. After comparing dozens of third-party websites (don’t be fooled by creative URLS like cheapsluttyhotels.com, they’re all owned by the same few companies), I chose an inexpensive but well-located and seemingly respectable hotel in South Beach. Yes, yes, I violated my principle of choosing hotels solely based on how cool they make me feel and how impressed friends are when I tell them I stayed there. I chose based on—gasp—price. And location. How could I possibly continue being a hotel snob when I stayed at 2-star hotels? Could the shame and self-loathing get any worse? Yes, apparently.

Something else I've learned is front desk staff are far more susceptible to obsequiousness and subtle manipulation than reservations staff, who are trained to suck every possible dollar out of travelers. So I bypassed central reservations and third-party websites and called the front desk directly—after hours. Sure enough, I secured a better rate and the vague promise of an upgrade.

Upon arrival, I wasn’t surprised when they couldn’t find my reservation. I half-expected it. Fortunately I had printed off my confirmation, another road warrior fundamental. Take that, suckers! Just try and deny my reservation now, try and make me pay double and then charge me for a no-show three months later. To my surprise, they handled the matter efficiently and professionally, albeit in broken Spanglish and without acknowledging the error or apologizing. And the bottle of wine and fruit basket I expected as compensation for the humiliation of lingering in the lobby and risking being spotted by a former colleague never arrived. No matter, I was happy to be staying in South Beach and not paying $500 a night.

After retrieving my key with its stylish plastic yellow tag I made my way to my room, holding my breath all the way—not out of excitement but because the stained hallway carpet promised unspeakable odors. My room, although not the penthouse suite and with no lap pool or fully-stocked bar or butler in sight, was decent in size and reasonably clean. I have an inordinate fear of floral bedspreads, so I was delighted to see a clean white duvet. There was an odor, however, one of those mysterious stenches that refuse to reveal its source no matter how hard you search. I decided it was tolerable and unpacked my suitcase.

That night, after conceding defeat in my efforts to make sense of the two multi-function remotes provided to control only eight channels, I turned out the lights and crawled into bed. Within seconds I felt itchy. Leaping out of bed, I flicked on the lights and yanked the sheets back, scrutinizing the mattress for bedbugs and—a telltale sign—blood spots. I couldn’t find any, but I knew they were there, lurking in cracks and crevices, waiting for the lights to go out to whistle to their friends and march all over me in a cockroach cavalcade. Still, I couldn’t sleep. The slamming of doors, the hooting and hollering, the strange grunting noises kept me up all night. The walls were so thin I might as well have been having a threesome with the couple next door.

Next morning I checked out at 5:30 am to catch my flight home. I had survived. No bug bites, no lice, no robbery or murder, and no $300 mini-bar bill or $45 parking fee. Maybe I had underestimated budget travel.

While in South Beach I checked out a few hotels I wished I stayed at. My recommendations include the 88-room Hotel Victor, which opened in 2005 and is adjacent to the mansion where Gianni Versace was gunned down in 1997. The only caveat is it’s operated by Hyatt, and I’m suspicious of mammoth chains who try to run boutique hotels. The 131-room Setai is also beautiful, although big and resort-like, and I personally refuse to stay in hotels with two or more towers. The refurbished 104-room Raleigh Hotel is part of the Andre Balazs group and has a stunning pool. The 194-room Delano, part of the Morgans Hotel Group, was a pioneer of chic boutique hotels so we have much to be grateful to it for. Lastly, I’m not a fan of the gilded opulence of Ritz Carlton and its “ladies and gentlemen serving ladies and gentlemen” motto, which is better suited for my grandmother (who’s dead), but if the striking modern lobby of the 375-room Ritz Carlton South Beach is any indication of the company’s future, then things are looking up.

Today I'm off to Seattle, so stay tuned for an update on the Emerald City.

See You on the Flipside

December 28 will be my last day at Opus. And wow, what an amazing six years it’s been. For those not interested in hearing me get all sentimental, feel free to fast-forward to previous posts about misbehaving guests, mini-bar sex toys, and makeup-smearing drag queens. For the rest of you, kindly allow me a moment.

There’s one major reason why I’ve come to this place every day for six years, the same reason it’s so hard to leave: the staff. Never before have I worked with such a talented team of dedicated professionals. It’s been a privilege to work with them every day. I’ve learned so much and, most importantly, I’ve had a blast along the way.

I’m proud to be leaving Opus while it leads the boutique hotel market in service, financial performance and reputation. Opus Vancouver is once again named on of the World's Best 500 Hotels in the January 2008 issue of Travel + Leisure magazine. How has a little independent hotel achieved such success? Great location, style, and quality, yes, but more than anything it’s all about the people.

Of course, it it weren’t for our guests none of us would be here. They have been fiercely loyal, inspiring and totally cool. The media has also played a critical part in our success. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting writers from around the world, and they’ve told glowing stories about Opus in every medium. Finally, we couldn’t have come this far without the resources, support and expertise provided by hotel ownership. With Opus Montreal now open, this success is now being duplicated in one of the world’s most vibrant cities—en français et à la Montréalaise.

What becomes of me? I plan to take a few months off to write. Murder at the Universe, my first novel in the Five-Star Mystery Series featuring hotel-manager-turned-house-detective Trevor Lambert, is now in its second printing. Murder at Hotel Cinema hits the shelves in June 2008. Now I’m on to #3. So I’ll be at home plotting my next murder over champagne and caviar. After that, who knows. I might pursue my lifelong ambition to fold towels at Linens N’ Things.

What becomes of the GM Blog? It will carry on in infamy in Katrina’s capable hands. Should you wish to keep tabs on me, I plan to start my own blog on my website. There, no longer constrained by the conventions of being a hotel manager, I’ll be able to speak even more candidly. If you thought hookers and drag queens were risqué, stay tuned.

My departure opens up opportunities for my colleagues, including Nicholas Gandossi, who becomes general manager of Opus Vancouver, Jacques Fortier, who becomes general manager of Opus Montreal, and Katrina Carroll-Foster, who is now Vice President of Sales & Marketing for Opus Hotels. It gives me great peace of mind to know that these highly capable individuals will be carrying the torch into the future.

To my colleagues, guests, clients, suppliers, media and friends in Vancouver, Montreal and around the world, thank you for the privilege and the pleasure. It's been a fantastic party, but it’s now time for me to go home and write about it.

I will miss you. All the best in 2008 and beyond. Au revoir et a bientôt.

posted by Daniel Edward Craig at 10:18 AM

3 Comments:

Ken said...
Hey Daniel. I am a lucky Japanese guy who had a great opportunity to do my internship at the Opus in Dec 2005. I had few chances to talk with you, so I am not sure if you remember me. But I had a blast there working in such departments as engeneering, housekeeping, roomservice in a month. I can't forget great people I met there and experieces. Opus hotel has always been the greatest hotel to me since I had the chance to be a part of it in spite of the fact I never had a chance to stay in a guest room. I really miss it now and hope to go back to the Opus hotel sometime in the future.Well, very surprised to know you are leaving the hotel, but good luck in your new field!!
9:34 PM

Travel in Man said...
Take care, we will all miss you.
10:29 AM

Usoff said...
Dang, after reading all your wonderful thoughts and posting some comments, I come across THIS post! Anyway, from what I've read I'm sure your staff will carry on the torch for you (my upcoming trip depends on it lol!)! Though we probably won't ever meet now that you're moving on, you sound like a wonderful person who'll excel in any field/endeavours and I wish you the best.
9:26 AM

Hotels in Space

Recently there’s been a lot of hype in the media about a hotel that plans to launch in 2012—in space. It’s called Galactic Suites, and reservations lines are expected to be open next year. I would be the first in line if it weren’t for the astronomical price: $4 million for a three-day stay. Now that’s an envious average rate. Since I’ll never be able to afford to be a guest, I thought I might put my name forward as a candidate for hotel manager. Problem is, considering the magnitude of the project and the track record hotels have for opening on time, I fear the launch will be delayed until I’m too old to make the journey—or, well, you know, dead.

That’s the irony of managing a hotel: you become quite comfortable surrounded by luxury and affluence, sometimes to the point where you forget you’re not actually like your guests: they’re rich and you aren’t. It’s always a rude awakening when I go out for dinner and can’t sign the bill to my promo. Hopefully Galactic Suites will offer industry discounts.

The obligatory eighteen-week training period suggests the target market is not your average weekend budget traveler, but more likely business tycoons, rock stars, and billionaire retirees. Fortunately for them, training takes place not in Siberia but at a hotel complex on a Caribbean island. I must say this raised my eyebrow. How will four months on a tropical island prepare these people for space, the most inhospitable environment a human being can endure? A tear in one’s spacesuit would lead to the most painful death imaginable: air would be sucked from lungs, blood would feel like it was boiling in veins, and internal organs would seize. I couldn’t find mention of this in the promotional material.

Why would anyone want to build a hotel in space? Well, why is any hotel built? To make money. When you consider that travelers’ most popular request is a quiet room with a view, imagine how this space hotel could deliver and the premium it could charge—like say, $4 million. Not for the faint of heart, the tour will shuttle guests around the world in a dizzying eighty minutes fifteen times a day at an altitude of 450 km. Promo material boasts that guests will “participate in international space experiments”. Am I paranoid, or does this sound ominous? Will guests conduct the experiments or be the subjects? Let’s hope experiments don’t involve making little tears in spacesuits and pushing guests out the door to see what happens.

As a hotel manager I can’t help but think about other potential challenges. If the hotel overbooks, as hotels like to do, how will relocates be handled? The zero gravity environment will make serving food and beverage challenging, not to mention making beds, cleaning rooms, showering, and, I suppose, using the bathroom. I’m thinking there won’t be a pool, spa, or windows that open. Apparently guests will use Velcro suits to crawl around the hotel by sticking themselves to walls like Spiderman. That could become a real hassle for room service attendants when they forget to bring Ketchup with a delivery. Also, in this age of environmental responsibility, how will a hotel justify rocketing just six guests at a time into space? That’s a lot of carbon credits.

I’ve often said that the hotel business isn’t rocket science, yet it appears it soon will be. The requisite merger of science and hospitality is a bit troubling. The company behind this project is based in Barcelona. As much as I love Spain, my service experiences in that country haven’t been stellar, although admittedly I wasn’t paying $4 million for accommodation. If service is bad, it’s not like you can check out and check into another hotel across the galaxy. The company’s claim that the project is “formed by various professionals in the aerospace industry” is reassuring from a scientific perspective, but where are the hotel industry professionals? Is an astronaut going to be preparing meals and turning down beds at night? They might want to consider getting Singapore involved. And before I get on board, will someone please tell me exactly how many spaceships Spain has built and piloted in the past? I think I’d feel more comfortable if Russia were involved. Whoever it is, I hope they’re better at building hotels than websites. The website for Galactic Suites is just bizarre.

SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT
While on this subject I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that my novel, Murder at the Universe, is set in a futuristic hotel in New York with a space theme. One of the main characters is a former astronaut who is appointed resident manager as a publicity stunt—with disastrous results. The point being, rocket science and hospitality demand very different skills; combining the two might result in really bad reviews on TripAdvisor.

Should I be hired to manage Galactic Suites, I imagine the job will get a little dull at times, what with only three rooms in the entire hotel. Maybe other duties will be involved, like flying the shuttle to and from that Caribbean island. Note to self: during interview don’t mention track record with valet parking at Opus. A company official describes Galactic Suites as a boutique hotel, once again reinforcing this segment’s reputation for being on the cutting edge. This got me even more excited about the possibility—until I read that the company plans to develop an “orbital hotel chain” and one of the partners is intent on colonizing Mars.

Sorry, but I don’t do chains. Or colonies for that matter. I think I’ll stick to Opus for now. I prefer to keep things down to earth.

posted by Daniel Edward Craig at 10:44 AM

8 Comments:

Maple Guy said...
Thanks for this, I REALLY needed a good laugh and this did it.And how do I sign guests up for those little tears in space suit experiments.
8:17 PM

Roger said...
So are you selling the book at the front desk (signed of course!)? Chapters in Richmond had it in the computer, but apparently not on shelf anywhere in the Lower Mainland.
8:38 PM

Daniel Edward Craig said...
Roger: Chapters/Indigo has sold out of the book but hopefully will order more. Best to ask them to order it as others have done, and with luck they will wake up to the demand in the Lower Mainland. I would be happy to sign it for you. You sent me a question re: restaurants but I think I deleted it. Please resend & I'll do my best to answer. Thanks. DC
5:35 AM

roger said...
Thanks. I guess I'll have to break down and go online. Your kind offer noted. Re restaurants: a while back Hotels ran a feature along the lines that hotel restaurants were loss centres because guests went out and transient diners didn't come in. The response suggested was to contract out the restaurant by moving in an already recognised operation or have a tenant do his own startup. This solution by personal observation can lead to odd environments for breakfast and also to unexpected difficulty for the guest who does want to dine in when the restaurant is fully booked. Some hotels have developed successful inhouse restaurants but locally these operations have not retained "buzz". My question as an industry observer is to ask what you see as the pros and cons and how hotel size and grade, and the restaurant characteristics (physical location in relation to street perhaps important for a city hotel) affect the decision. I thought it might be a topic for one of your posts.
4:27 PM

Anonymous said...
You do not exaggerate. The Galactic Suites site is truly the strangest attempt to sell a commercial venture I've seen.
8:37 PM

Roger said...
Duthie's on 4th had 17 of "Murder" on Sunday.
5:32 PM

roodee2 said...
A hotel manager who writes novels?! Wow! Which is your primary life?
11:17 PM

Hotel La Canela said...
Entertaining read.Two comments: It is NOT dull to run a three-room hotel (Hotel La Canela has exactly that). A couple of reasons: 1) You don't have the amount of resources (read: staff) that take care of a zillion mudane tasks. 2) "Exclusivity" takes on a whole new dimension at the three-room level, where the entire hotel at times becomes one big, continous room-service operation.As for the space hotel, basically all the guests would be paying for the honor of being pushed around by ex-military type managers telling them what not to do. Any request for service, would simply be turned down in the name of safety. So it might be fun to be Guest Relations Manager at the Space Hotel!
3:01 PM

Chain Conformity and Other Foreboding Phrases

Sorry for the long absence, but I have a good excuse. In case you somehow dodged the salvo of announcements issued by our media team, Opus has adopted a younger sister. She's gorgeous, speaks fluent French and, fortunately, lives far enough away from Vancouver that we won’t be too jealous. Her name is Opus Montreal.

On July 9, Trilogy Properties Corporation, owner-operators of Opus Hotel in Vancouver and operators of Adara Hotel in Whistler, purchased Hotel Godin and re-flagged it Opus Montreal. Since I promised long ago to be a blogger not a flogger, I will resist the temptation to go on and on about this beautiful property, the fantastic staff, its ideal location. I’ll leave that to the website.

I know what you’re thinking. The irony hasn’t escaped me either that, after years of bashing hotel chains, I now work for one. This “chain” is only two hotels, but already I’ve caught myself uttering such odious phrases as “economies of scale” and “chain standards”. Not that hotel chains are evil. Some of my best friends work for them, and I myself have worked for several. They serve many critical functions. For example, they house drunken conventioneers wearing badges and silly hats so boutiques don’t have to. And they fill rooms with low-rated government business so we don’t have to either.

While the term “boutique chain” may sound like an oxymoron, there are a number of successful ones out there: Morgans, Thompson, Joie de Vivre and Kimpton to name a few. It’s not chains themselves that are the problem, but chain mentality. I have an inordinate fear of reporting to some over-caffeinated vice president at corporate office in some obscure state like, say, Delaware who considers herself an authority on all things hotel, yet has never actually worked in one, nor, evidently, even stayed in one. Terms like “chain conformity” also make me shudder. This involves head office issuing a decree that all hotels in the chain offer the same service—like, for example, using the same folksy, cliché-ridden guest welcome letter crafted by the president—regardless of whether it’s a chic urban hotel or a remote resort.

Of course, many travelers are scared of boutique hotels. And who can blame them, given some of the appalling ones out there. Some travelers want the predictability of a hotel chain, where it looks and feels like home no matter where they are in the world. These are the people you see in Paris dining at Burger King. Boutique travelers want surprises, as long as they’re pleasant. You’ll see them dining in some off-the-beaten-path, authentic café in St-Germain-des-Pres.

Does the fact that Opus is now plural mean that our fierce individualism, our irreverent, bad-ass spirit will be crushed? Hell no. The truth is, we’ve never actually been bad-ass. Perhaps a bit irreverent, but at heart most of us at Opus are somewhat conservative hoteliers. We understand that, above all, travelers want comfort, convenience, and intuitive service. In Vancouver and Montreal, Opus will offer this and more: a unique and special experience that reflects the local history and culture.

I’ve been traveling to Montreal a lot lately, and anyone who travels east on business will relate to the joys of traversing time zones. You lose an entire day flying. The lateness of your flight is directly correlated with the earliness of your morning meeting. Your luggage takes forever to arrive, and it's a very tense time because everyone carries the same black suitcase and you're certain that pushy lady with the bad perm made off with yours. The taxi queue rivals the line at the passport office. If you’re lucky, you get to the hotel by midnight, which is okay because it’s only 9:00 pm back home. Except you can’t sleep. At all. Even with medication. You muddle through the next day in a jet-lagged, overmedicated, sleep-deprived haze. Finally, 6:00 pm arrives. Your day is over. Except a barrage of frantic emails from back home ensues, chaining you to your computer until their workday is over, three hours later. When you finally do adjust to local time, it’s time to fly home, where you suffer the same trauma in reverse.

While in Montreal I’ve been living in the hotel, which sounds glamorous, and sometimes it is. Hotels are magical places, staffed by super-friendly people who open doors for you, call you sir, and make your bed way better than you ever could. I love having my own little shampoo containers and jam jars. But a certain degree of privacy is sacrificed. On Tuesday my “wakeup call” was delivered by an irate guest screaming into my phone about a mishap at check-in.

Language is more formal in Montreal. In my capacity as acting general manager I’ve been introducing myself to staff like a typical westerner: “Hi! I’m Dan.” Yet when they introduce me it’s, "Je vous présente Monsieur Daniel Craig, le directeur general.” This makes me feel exceptionally important, wealthy, and, inexplicably, taller. I’m considering insisting on the same introduction in Vancouver, perhaps with “par excellence” thrown in for good measure. But I’m a little nervous about how it will be received.

Speaking of which, what is it that compels certain hotel managers to act like royalty? Over the years I’ve observed them prancing about their hotels, expecting employees to fall at their feet in their presence, seeming to relish the terror they strike in their hearts. Did we go back to the 18th century and no one told me? “That little minion didn’t curtsy when I passed—off with her head!” Shouldn’t managers want staff to expend this time and energy fussing over guests?

In my world, good hotel management boils down to one word: respect. Earned respect, not ordained respect. Treat everyone with respect—guests, staff, colleagues, owners, suppliers, that perky saleslady who’s called you five times this week, and, yes, even that high-strung VP in Delaware—and they will respect you. Humility is also essential. Guests and staff must always come first. If it has to be about you, consider a career in show business. Add hard work to the mix—as Thomas Edison said, there is no substitute for hard work—, integrity, and a bit of luck, and you have the recipe for success, whether you work for a five-star hotel, a roadside motel, a chain or an independent.

These are the values we’ll be bringing to Opus Montreal. We look forward to seeing you there. A la prochaine.

posted by Daniel Edward Craig at 11:05 AM

4 Comments:
sue frause said...
Bonjour Messr. Craig! You know I'm a fan of the Opus, so how wonderful that you will be adding one to the "chain." And they must coin a new word for a small hotel chain -- The Opus and its siblings aren't exactly related to the Days Inn or Holiday Inn world. I'll be in Montreal the end of September so will definitely check out your new property. I love Montreal --Ooh la la.
4:08 PM

Anonymous said...
I recently had the opportunity to visit the Opus Montreal and I must say.."what a beautiful array of decorum and style" Had I been bi-lingual, I might have had the opportunity to join the Opus family but nonetheless, never say never ;) The hotel front office manager Dan was gracious and very hospitable. There are some things said for chains but this wasn't exactly that, it was more of an addition to an extended family. Wish you all the best and looking forward to an addition in Toronto.
3:40 PM

Anonymous said...
Bonjour Dan! Rafraichissant votre Blog, étant hôtelier depuis plus de 20 ans, je suis tout à fait d'accord avec vous quand vous parlez de respect! Étant Montréalais d'origine, j'avais eu la vision que cet immeuble au coin de St-Laurent et Sherbooke ferais un magnifique hotel, et Opus sera surement relevé le défi. Bonne Chance à vous et votre équipe.S
5:08 AM

HW said...
Fantastic Craig - I stayed at what was then the Godin, in May- Does this mean that the property is no longer with Preferred? What a loss if that's the case. A loss for Preferred of course. From a fellow BC Hotelier, I must say, I'm more than a bit envious. The hotel is beautiful.
3:48 PM

So You Want to Work in Hotels...

I get lots of messages from hospitality students and aspiring hotel workers who read this blog. In fact, an associate professor at San Francisco State University recently emailed me to say the General Manager’s Blog is required reading for his class. For some time now I’ve been promising to write a post about how to get into the hotel business. As the shortage of workers in the hotel industry begins to reach crisis proportions, the time is ripe.

One of the “horror stories” I’ve heard is a Wendy’s in Alberta had to close because they couldn’t find people to staff it. Doesn’t sound like much of a horror story to me. Starbucks maybe, but Wendy’s? All sorts of emergency task forces and working groups and action committees are being formed to address the labour shortage. Which begs the question, wouldn’t our time be better spent working than exacerbating the problem by sitting in meetings? The prospect of not having enough staff to fill positions strikes terror in the heart of hotel managers. Not only are we concerned that service levels will suffer but, more importantly, we’re terrified that we’ll have to do the work ourselves. Don’t be surprised if the next time you stay at a hotel the general manager parks your car and the human resources director fluffs your pillows.

If you’re interested in working in hotels but don’t know where to start, my advice is to get a job in a hotel. Brilliant, I know. My point is that I caution you against enrolling in four-year hotel management program before you know if the industry is right for you. Some people just aren’t very hospitable, and you’d be much better off establishing this before wasting your time and money on a diploma. If you are a good fit, then you’ll have some great practical experience to apply to your studies.

How to get a job in a hotel without experience or education? No problem. Hotels used to be really uppity about hiring the young and inexperienced, but times have changed. Many hotels, particularly big ones, are desperate for staff. This doesn’t mean that even though you have a ring in your nose and a chip on your shoulder you can walk into a high-paying executive position. It means if you are well-groomed, outgoing and have a great attitude you should be able to land an entry-level job. Even a little whippersnapper fresh out of high school can. Yes way.

The key is you have to be open to anything—delivering room service, cleaning rooms, bussing tables, fanning the GM—at any time on any day of the week. Yes, that might mean—gasp—graveyard shifts. We stopped calling them graveyards a long time ago for obvious reasons, so don’t be fooled by euphemisms like “night shifts” or “shift work”. If you want to work in guest services or management, the reality is that night shifts are a right of passage. The great news is you get to witness bizarre things that nine-to-fivers never see. Night shifts make you stronger, more knowledgeable and less afraid of the dark.

If you can’t demonstrate this kind of flexibility then you’re probably not cut out for the industry. A degree in hotel management isn’t going to change that. Save your money and consider a career in banking.

If you manage to land an entry-level job, don’t worry if it’s not your ideal position. Play your cards right and there will be opportunities to move. Work hard and be super nice to everyone, even that bossy lady in HR who made you cut your hair. Never say “It’s not my department” or “I can’t” or “Bite me.” Pay close attention to detail. And don’t steal anything, not even pillow chocolates. Colleagues must respect you, guests must love you and management must remember you. Once you’ve established yourself as an essential and noble martyr, don’t assume you’re entitled to the first opportunity that comes along. It takes time, patience and luck. Years ago, a coworker on the front desk used to apply for every sales position that came available. When she didn’t get them she would bitch to everyone about management’s appalling shortsightedness. She became the Susan Lucci of the front desk, always a contender but never quite good enough. Hm, wonder why.

I realized just how desperate hotels are for qualified people when a colleague from another hotel called me for a reference check on a former employee. The employee had issues, a lot of them, and I was quite candid about not recommending him. A few days later I got a call back. They wanted to know just how bad he really was. Apparently, the staffing situation was so dire they were willing to overlook past transgressions. Until recently, one negative word in a reference check was enough to rule out a candidate. Now hotels are more willing to compromise, which is very scary indeed. Good old Canadian hospitality is in jeopardy.

What’s the solution? One committee suggests bringing retired people back into the workforce and attracting foreign workers, disabled people, youths and aboriginals. All great ideas, but I think we need to be even more creative. What about ex-convicts? They’d be good at making beds. In fact, why wait until they get out of prison—why not hire prisoners? We’d have to keep them shackled, of course, and away from the cash drawer, but I’ve fantasized before about handcuffing wayward employees to their desks. Military personnel are also worth consideration. Their skills with weapons would come in handy in the accounting department collecting bills. We could also import workers from France now that its new rightwing government appears determined to kick immigrants out.

A more obvious solution is to increase wages in the hotel industry. I suggest we start with the general manager. Katrina suggests starting with the director of sales & marketing. Regardless, it would increase operating costs, which would result in higher room rates, but in this economy people have more money, and they should be willing to pay a premium for good service, no? A positive work environment is also important, as are good benefits, training and opportunities for advancement. But now I’m stating the obvious. I’m starting to feel like I’m in one of those task force meetings.

The big question is, if we manage to attract enough employees to staff all these hotels under development, are we going to have enough travellers to fill them? Only time will tell. In the meantime, outgoing, flexible candidates with no previous criminal convictions are welcome to send your resume to careers@opushotel.com.

posted by Daniel Edward Craig at 3:01 PM

14 Comments:

Anonymous said...
pure gold. loved this post, thanks so much :)
12:55 AM

Maple Guy said...
I've managed to retain some of my best restaurant servers by running a lucrative betting pool on how many job offers each one will get over the lunch rush. Highest to date was 5, with business cards.However its so true about slipping standards for hiring and its effect on service standards. Also more and more work gets passed to the managers. Except now we can't find managers. Must be time to cut another service, self serve banquets it is, doscount given if you roll your own table away.Odd question for you on the short staffed economy and junior-middle Managers. Do you think it looks bad to have a couple shorter term jobs in a row (under a year each) if each move showed a new opportunity or does it speak to disloyalty?
11:37 PM

Canaan said...
I am happy that the SFSU professor forced us to read your blog. it has been not only inspirational but entertaining. I am now employed at a hotel in San Francisco through my internship program. I hope to visit your hotel one day from what He has told me. Please keep up the great blogs. I think I might suggest to our GM to start one as well...SF is an interesting city...with interesting people....
5:45 PM

Daniel Edward Craig said...
Maple Guy, You pose a good question. I love to see loyalty on a resume. If the candidate has jumped around a lot I want to know why, and if it doesn't add up I move on to the next candidate. Assuming there is a next candidate.
5:49 PM

Carman said...
Opus Hotel is beautiful. I highly recommend it.
7:50 PM

Brian said...
I bet the students are glad it's required reading as it's so infrequently updated....:-)
1:23 PM

Mohammed said...
loved your post. Great ideas . looking forward to work with you in Montreal . M.Zai
7:59 AM

Anonymous said...
I love that you give this advice:Never say “Bite me.”Barbara
2:30 PM

Colin Jopling said...
"Colleagues must respect you, guests must love you and managment remember you." so true. I think i will have to steal this one myself. Look forward to your next entry daniel.
10:27 AM

Confused Highschool Student said...
First of all I want to thank you for all your useful and genuine advice you've given on this blog. It really helps to see the industry from an insider's point of view.As you can see from my name I am in the wonderful stage of my adolescence called 'what are you going to do with your life'. My parents want me to go to medical school. I don't want to medical school. But I probably will have to go to medical school since I have no idea what else I'll do for hmm.. 6 years? Well that's all changed.I've always known I had to knack for to please people and interact with them. I wanted a job that will give me opportunities to use my creative abilities. I want to travel all over the world. I know I am still young and naive but I think this career is the perfect blend of everything I want. You have no idea how good it finally feels to know what you want, and have something to direct and motivate you to achieve it. So before I write my life story on here I want to thank you so much Mr. Craig for pretty much inspiring me to go for my dreams. And who knows, maybe one day I'll work for you at the Opus. ;)
10:24 PM

Dappy said...
i've said bite me before, it wasn't that bad. I can see what you mean about the Hotel Industry being short of management staff. It certainly explains why I got the GM job.
10:49 AM

Anonymous said...
Sage advice, Sir Dan. ~_^I am an experienced front desk clerk and moving to the area. From what I've seen and heard of your location, I can only dream of getting in, but I plan to send you my resume nonetheless. Cheers to you and your beautiful hotels. ~Adriana Van Leeuwen
6:59 PM

Vancouver Man said...
It is a great hotel and it's nice to see this sort of industry getting into blogging and sharing information.
5:45 PM

Anonymous said...
I am an outsider to the industry and have a question: Does the hotel really care when I put my family of 6 in a room intended for 4? There is no way I would stay at the place at all if I had to use two rooms.
12:36 AM

Five-Star Mystery #1: Back to the Scene of the Crime

Just back from New York and Canada’s Media Marketplace, where my fellow Canadians and I mercilessly flogged our country’s wares in the hopes that media will write gushing stories. I stayed at the Gramercy Park Hotel for the first two nights, Ian Schrager’s latest hotel project in collaboration with artist Julian Schnabel. I’d heard mixed reviews, but I loved the place. Amazing arrival experience. Major lounge scene. Awesome neighbourhood. Service is at a higher level than Schrager’s former properties, but be prepared to pay accordingly. The décor is a mix of ultra-modern, classic and bohemian, yet somehow it works. I’ve never been a fan of tassels – in my mind they should be seen only on grandma’s curtains or Vegas showgirls – but the ones on the chairs in my room came across as playful and urbane, much like the rest of the hotel.

On Sunday New York was hit with one of the worst storms in history. As a Vancouverite I mocked the hardened New Yorkers who were making such a fuss over a few droplets of rain. Then I went outside. I’ve never experienced horizontal rain before. It was like being in a carwash. I spent the rest of the day cowering in my room.

The next day I checked into the conference hotel, the Waldorf-Astoria. I did so with trepidation. It was built in 1931 and has 1425 rooms. Large hotels are not for impatient people. I’m not big on old hotels either. I like shiny new things. But the staff at this hotel won me over. It’s difficult to provide a consistently high level of service in a big hotel, but they manage it well here. Employees seem genuinely proud. Often their lines sound scripted, but well scripted. I encountered more tassels though, on the curtains in my room. I guess New Yorkers are big on them. And the floral bedspreads have got to go. Have I disclosed before why hotels use such ghastly patterns on carpets and bedspreads? They hide stains. But I’ll leave the investigative reporting to Dateline.

I love New York so much I set my novel there, Murder at The Universe. I imploded the Hilton on Sixth Avenue and erected my hotel in its place. It made me feel like Donald Trump. The novel opens with the murder of the hotel’s owner. It soon becomes apparent that one of the executive staff members may have done it. The main character, Trevor Lambert, director of rooms, is forced to play sleuth while managing the clash of values among pampered guests, harried employees and a militant conference organizer. Some hotel executives may find the premise cathartic, what with the owner getting murdered. I should point out, however, that I conceived the idea many years ago. I would never even think of such a thing at Opus.

Things are gearing up for my book’s release in September. It’s now available for pre-order online. My publisher, Midnight Ink, contracted me to develop the concept into a 3-book series. Book 2, which I’ve been working on for a year now, is due – excuse me while I gasp for air – in two weeks. Time to get started, I guess. The working title is Murder at Hotel Cinema. Trevor moves to Los Angeles to open a swank boutique hotel in Hollywood. At the opening party a gorgeous young movie star is murdered. This time the executives and owners are off the hook, but middle management isn’t. The suspects include the hotel’s executive housekeeper, the chief engineer and the publicist. The victim is a hotel guest, but she’s a diva and a tyrant, so Opus guests have nothing to worry about as long as they behave.

The question I’m most often asked (besides what’s your phone number) is how do I find time to write and manage a hotel? The quick answer: early mornings and long days. Both jobs are a labour of love, so I don’t mind. I’ve wanted to write since I was four, when I used to carry a notebook around entitled “Poims”. Yeah, I was a weird kid, and not a very good speller. When I turned 30 I realized that if I wanted to call myself a writer at some point I would have to write something. I naively thought it would be fun and easy to write a mystery. They say write what you know, so I set it in a hotel. It’s pure fiction, but without a doubt I’ve been inspired by the colourful characters and bizarre situations I’ve encountered over the years.

I’m on “vacation” for two weeks beginning April 30. I say “vacation” because during the first week I’ll be furiously trying to shape Book 2 into something readable. The next week I’ll be on a real vacation. But my mind is always working, and while on the beach in Hawaii sipping strong fruity drinks I’ll be plotting my next murder.

Thanks to Katrina for filling in during my absence. Aloha!

posted by Daniel Edward Craig at 1:46 PM

3 Comments:

Brian said...
Mocking hardened New Yorkers is fun and should be done more often. It never fails to amaze me during the winter when a storm belts the Midwest, it's barely a blip on the news but a couple days later, when the same storm is raining down on the East Coast, it's suddenly Defcon 4 and everyone's whining for their mommies.You want hardened? Come to the Midwest. We can take anything.
7:43 AM

Anonymous said...
I pre-ordered 3 copies of your book because I am so excited to get my hands on it!I am sure you will sell millions!
2:06 PM

Chris said...
Can't wait to read the novel Daniel, I'll pre-order before the 'rush'. I worked for two years at the Rihga Royal hotel (now the London Place) adjacent to the Hilton on 6th so I have a pretty good frame of reference. Great city!
4:40 PM

Opus Lifestyle Concierge: Multiple Personalities

Opus has never claimed to be the clichéd “home away from home”. Unless of course your bathroom at home has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street. I like to compare Opus to “a cool friend’s apartment”, a phrase I appropriated from one of our frequent guests. It captures the hotel’s residential feel and some key design elements.

When I first heard that the hotel’s interior design team, led by the brilliant Robert Bailey (formerly of Architectura, now Stantec), was planning five guestroom décor schemes and 16 layouts, I thought they were crazy. With only 96 rooms, where was the economy of scale? They also planned to paint rooms red, blue, green and yellow. Colours? What about the official colour of every hotel room ever built: beige? They also casually mentioned that some rooms would have windows between the bathroom and bedroom – but no blinds, just a translucent sheer. I managed to win that battle by reminding them that some people travel with their grandmother. But the other design elements remained.

The hotel’s unique design features have made it fun to give tours. What I didn’t anticipate were the clever marketing opportunities the décor schemes presented. For inspiration, the design team created five fictional characters to represent the hotel’s typical guests, and then built rooms around them. Colours, fabrics and furnishings were selected to evoke the diverse lifestyles these personalities represented.

Think of these characters as a friend you’re coming to stay with. If you choose Susan, you’ll get a “stylish and sophisticated” blue room with curvy lamps and sexy fabrics. Susan’s a fashionista from Toronto who’s into the “see and be seen” scene. You’ll also find a selection of CDs and books to match her refined tastes (think opera, Dido and high fashion). After all, what do you do when you stay at a friend’s? You check out her CD collection and snoop through her bookshelf. Maybe you raid the fridge. But be forewarned, it’ll cost you at Opus. Just don’t steal anything like, say, towels or bathrobes or she might not invite you back.

If you’re feeling more uninhibited you’ll probably want to hang out with Billy. He’s a musician-filmmaker from London and his “artful & eclectic” room features lime green walls, whimsical art and faux rabbit-fur ottomans. Billy’s CD collection reflects his love of classic rock (think Kravitz and U2), whereas his books reflect his spiritual side (Ommm). Billy’s a party boy, so be prepared for a long night. Just don’t disturb Bob & Carol; they go to bed early. Bob’s a high tech exec and Carol’s journalist and they’re from San Francisco. Their “tony & traditional” yellow room leans toward comfort and conservative design. They’re not boring, they’re simply more mature and cultured. Oh, and Bob gets a lot of headaches. The CDs and books in this room reflect their fondness for jazz, classical music and higher learning.

Just down the hall you’ll find Mike, a doctor from New York who represents the convention traveler who breaks away from the crowd. His “modern and minimalist” room features cranberry-red walls, contemporary furnishings and edgy photography. Mike likes to dance to the divas and his leisure reading is decidedly non-medical, so be prepared for a blessedly superficial stay. But don’t get the wrong idea, ladies – sometimes Mike travels with his “friend” Steve. Upstairs in the penthouse suite you’ll find Dede, a method actress from Los Angeles and our resident drama queen. Her “daring & dramatic” suite features taupe walls, faux-fur fabrics and provocative art. Her taste in music is diverse but leans toward hip hop. She’s not much of a reader, but occasionally flips through books if there are lots of pictures. If you choose to hang out with Dede, be prepared to binge and splurge.

When Opus opened in 2002 we sent out a casting call for these characters and featured them in a photo shoot (see Billy above) and at our opening party. We’ve since tried to retire them, but people won’t let us. The concept of choosing a room to match your personality (or mood) captures the imagination. The media has written loads of stories about Mike and his friends. Currently, the characters are moonlighting as concierges in our Lifestyle Concierge program: you choose the personality that best suits your lifestyle and they tell you their favourite places to shop, dine and play in Vancouver.

What does the future hold for the Opus personalities? After almost five years, a few nips and tucks are in order. As we introduce new colours, fabrics and furnishings in our guestrooms we’ll update their profiles. Maybe Billy’s evolved into a Bono-like character who uses his fame for charitable causes. Maybe Susan’s career in fashion has taken off and she’s now alarmingly similar to Anna Wintour. As for Bob & Carol, rumour has it that Carol filed for divorce after catching Bob in Mike’s room. And Dede? Undoubtedly she shaved her head, did a stint in rehab and is building an orphanage in Malawi. We’re also planning to bring the characters out of the bedroom and into Opus Bar, where we’ll be featuring a martini inspired by each personality.

The possibilities are endless. One thing I know for sure, the Opus personalities have checked in for the long term, and they’re looking forward to welcoming lots more guests. I’d love to hear which personality you identify with most. And check out CBC’s recent story on the Opus personalities.

posted by Daniel Edward Craig at 9:47 AM

4 Comments:

Brian said...
The CBC story is EXCELLENT.If I make you a T-shirt with the cover of your book on the front, do you promise to wear it from now on, any time you appear in front of a video camera?
11:35 AM

Daniel Edward Craig said...
Thanks Brian, glad you liked it. Of course I'd be happy to wear the t-shirt - will it be Prada?
12:27 PM

Anonymous said...
I would be billy :) lollove this blog Daniel, keep it up...by the way, can I have your email?regards, Sebastya
7:13 AM

Daniel Edward Craig said...
Thanks Sebastya, will do my best! Email address is dcraig@opushotel.com.
10:45 AM