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 fat purple shiner. I had to wonder what possessed management to schedule him when he looked 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.

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.