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.