Miscellaneous thoughts of little consequence

How’s that for a gripping lead? A few months ago, when Katrina, our director of sales & marketing, came up with the idea of a general manager’s blog I thought it was brilliant. Back then I didn’t realize how hard it would be to come up with new material each week, and to find time to write it. I’m already looking forward to my two-week vacation in September, when I’ll be foisting this job on some unsuspecting colleague. (um, Katrina…?)

Truth is, I didn’t expect anyone to read my posts. But in just a couple of months these pages have been viewed by thousands. I’ve received lots of great comments, and would like to thank those who wrote for your encouraging words.

Interestingly, the only concerns about content came internally, from our LA-based publicists, who feared I had gone too far. What? they cried, you dished the name of the diva who used the F word on you? Eek! What, you admitted that Opus occasionally relocates guests? Double eek! What, you said the word “cleavage”? Triple eek! Their concerns compelled me to go back and soften some of my comments. Ironically, sanitizing my writing made me feel dirty, like I had compromised my artistic integrity. But our publicists are savvy, and they’ve done great things for Opus, so when they cry “Eek!” I listen.

Now, however, I find myself desperate for new content. It’s not that I don’t have a lot to say, the problem is that whenever I come up with an irreverent new idea I hear the publicists crying “Eek!” The pressure to perform within these parameters is daunting. I may have to start making things up.

One fairly innocuous subject I’m considering is chronicling the nine hotels I’ve worked for during my career. Sounds riveting, I know. But there have been interesting moments. For example, in 1996 I accepted, sight unseen, my “dream job” as director of sales & marketing at a resort in Micronesia. Where Micronesia is I’m still not entirely sure. It’s somewhere between Guam and the Philippines, a group of stunningly beautiful islands (pictured above). I signed a two-year contract, gave up my job and my apartment, held a going-away party that rivaled the closing ceremonies of the 2006 Winter Olympics, and got on the plane. It took me 36 hours to get there, and two hours to realize I had made a terrible mistake. A month later I was back in Vancouver, returning everyone’s going-away presents. I’ll explain why in a future post, but suffice it to say that as the plane took off from the island I had my middle finger planted firmly against the passenger window.

In another post I plan to shamelessly plug the mystery novel I wrote, called Murder at The Universe, which will be published in September '07. It’s about a highly dedicated hotel manager whose universe is turned upside down when his colleagues become suspects in the hit-and-run death of the hotel’s beloved owner. The incident occurs after a boozy staff party, on the eve of the arrival of a militant anti-impaired driving conference. General chaos ensues as values clash among hotel staff, activists, guests and the media. It's really fun, and I wrote it all by myself. You can pre-order it on Amazon now.

I should add a disclaimer that all characters in my novel – and the hotel itself – are purely fictional. Already I’ve had to reassure the owners of Opus that I came up with the premise long before I met them, and their lives are safe (for now). The great news is that the publisher has offered me a 3-book deal to develop the novel into a series. I won’t be giving up my day job, though, partly because I love it, and partly because I need new material. But mostly because I pretty much spent the advance celebrating a couple weeks ago.

Well, then, I’ve effectively completed this week’s post with mindless blather. I think that now makes me a bona fide blogger.

We want our word back

Several years ago, the term “boutique hotel” arrived on the travel scene. Today, it seems like every second hotel is calling itself boutique, from 800-room properties to highway motels to mega chains. There are also boutique salons, ad agencies, law firms, hardware stores and pet stores. Everywhere, businesses are pilfering this precious term to distinguish themselves from the big-box-style retailers. And in the process, they’re ruining it for everyone.

We want our word back. It’s ours.

What exactly is a boutique hotel? Like the word “attractive” in personal ads, the term boutique is used loosely – and often generously – in the hotel industry. To me, a boutique hotel is defined by its size (200 rooms max), its ambience (intimate), its service (personalized), its independence (no chain affiliation) and its outlets (people actually use the restaurant and lounge). The design of a boutique hotel should reflect the city it’s in. And guests shouldn’t have to stumble through revolving doors to get in, or line up at the front desk behind hundreds of cruise ship passengers, or jostle with conventioneers wearing badges and silly hats. In a contemporary boutique hotel, brass and fussy floral arrangements should be banished, along with the music of Vivaldi and portraits of dead people.

When it comes to sullying the boutique name, there are no worse offenders than boutique hotels themselves. Many offer style or substance, but few provide both. Some are built around a hot lounge scene, but service is inconsistent and guestrooms feel like an afterthought (perhaps a deliberate ploy to keep guests out of rooms and in the lounge drinking). Others offer beautiful guestrooms and great service, but the lounge is about as lively as a public library. My favourite boutique hotels have style and substance. In the US they include Hotel Gansevoort and 60 Thompson in New York, The Mondrian and The Viceroy in LA, and Hotel Vitale and The Clift in San Francisco. While not technically boutiques, W hotels and a few of the Four Seasons also do this well.

One thing everyone seems to agree on is that boutique hotels are more expensive. This is partly quality related, partly market related: fewer rooms + high demand = higher rates. But it also has to do with economies of scale. Boutiques don’t order 50,000 bottles of shampoo at one time or serve 1,200 dinner guests. Uniqueness is part of the appeal, of course, and many travellers are willing to pay a premium for it. In the 1970s, the Holiday Inn’s slogan was “The Best Surprise Is No Surprise”. These days, travellers want surprises, as long as they don’t involve lost reservations or rodents scurrying across the floor.

Of course, not every hotel wants to be a boutique, and not every traveller wants to stay in a boutique hotel. Larger hotels can offer more space, better facilities, a more consistent product, and guest loyalty and frequent flier programs. At Opus we maintain that a traveller who chooses a hotel based on how many points she’ll collect toward an upgrade on her next car rental is probably not the best fit for us. There are plenty of other options in Vancouver.

Sometimes it’s fun to stay in big, grand hotels, landmark hotels, historic hotels – as long as they don’t smell musty. The largest hotel in the world is the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, with between 5,690 and 5,034 rooms, depending on the source (I’m not convinced management even knows). It comes with a sports arena, entertainment dome and wedding chapel. In fact, Vegas is home to 17 of the world’s 20 largest hotels. I stayed at The Venetian once (pictured above), which, at 4,027 suites averaging 700 square feet, ranks #4. Upon returning to the hotel each night (okay, each morning) it felt like I had to walk past all 4,000 suites to get to mine. A shuttle bus would have been nice. In Dubai, the upcoming Asia Asia Hotel plans to dethrone the MGM, with a whopping 6,500 rooms – a small city.

All this talk about big hotels is humbling, what with Opus’s mere 96 rooms, no sister properties, and no wedding chapel. Maybe we should become a boutique chain? This term is an oxymoron in my opinion. But some companies, like Kimpton and Joie de Vivre, have succeeded in building a collection while preserving each property’s individual personality. Buoyed by its success with W Hotels, Starwood has introduced aloft hotels, claiming on its website to be “re-imagining the classic American ‘On The Road’ tradition and giving rise to a hotel of new heights. A hotel so far above anything in its class that it can only be called by one name: aloft.” My rough translation: tarted-up motels for thrifty-but-cool travellers, with advertising copy written by a guy who used to write superhero movie trailers.

Now that the chains have stolen the word “boutique”, along with some of our best ideas, we in the boutique business better keep innovating. Fortunately, this is easier for us because we don’t have to wait for approval from corporate office. Stay tuned for advances in in-room technology, entertainment, amenities and environmentally friendly practices, along with even greater personalization.

And we best be finding another word for boutique.

Must Love Smiling

Last week was a busy one at Opus, with 4 perfect fills in 7 days. We’re currently hiring for positions in reservations, guest services and housekeeping. So if you know anyone who is experienced, has a great attitude, is well mannered and exceptionally competent, we’d like to hear from them. I have friends who might want to marry them, too.

Note, candidates must love smiling. Together with eye contact and guest name usage, smiles form the basics of great guest service. Of course, I’m talking about genuine smiles. Fake smiles, plastic smiles, vacant smiles and smiles that come across as obsequious, condescending or creepy don't quite cut it in this business. It also helps to know when to turn a smile off, like when a guest is yelling at you. But one must never turn off the “can do” attitude. Just ask Corina, our ever-smiling Room Service & Banquets Captain, pictured above.

I once worked with a woman named Nancy who got frazzled frequently, but you never knew it because she hid behind her great smile. She was famous for malapropisms. Once, during a particularly hectic day on the front desk, she picked up the phone and said, “Thank you for helping, how may I hold you?” Another time, craving a cigarette, she picked up the phone and said, “Front desk, Nancy smoking.” She always had a smile on her face, so who could fault her?

Another time I overheard a front desk agent, Lina, also infamous for malapropisms, on the phone with a guest. “Not to worry,” she was saying, “I’ll send an abductor up to your room immediately.” Alarmed, I imagined the terrified guest barricading herself in her room. I asked Lina what was going on. She smiled sweetly. “The guest is from Europe and her hairdryer won’t work in the power outlet.” Her eyes grew wide. “Did I say abductor? Oops. I meant adaptor!”

About 10 years ago I took a break from the hotel business and went to work for Vancouver Film School in marketing. It was a completely new environment for me: casual and creative, more concerned about ideas and stories than, say, appearances and feelings. The instructors had a profound distrust for my fancy clothes and sunny disposition. They labeled me “the suit”, which I discovered was akin to “the scab”. I soon found my kindred spirits in the Acting department, where everyone was always super upbeat and happy. Then I discovered they were only acting.

In the hotel business, a great smile tells guests that you’re here to help and you’re having a good time doing it. It’s a cliché, but smiles are contagious. After a while they become second nature, part of your uniform. Years ago, walking home after long shifts on the front desk, I’d find myself grinning like a halfwit at everyone I passed. But they smiled back, and it made me feel good. Much more effective than scowling. Or flipping the bird.

Smiley, experienced candidates are encouraged to send resumes to careers@opushotel.com.

Silent Shoppers

Once a year at Opus we recruit “silent shoppers” to stay at the hotel anonymously and evaluate the experience. They book a room like a regular guest, pay full rate, have drinks in the lounge and dinner in the restaurant, order room service, and test the hotel’s facilities and services. To preserve anonymity, we rebate their charges after they’ve checked out. Tough job, I know. But it’s a great investment for the hotel because it provides a detailed, objective assessment of the guest experience.

Two silent shoppers stayed at Opus last month. Their silence is now over; the reports are in. I read through them yesterday, holding my breath, fearing something unusual and horrible might have happened.

The shoppers were Susan, a respected industry veteran who has run some of Vancouver’s best hotels, including the Pan Pacific and the Metropolitan, and Tom, an executive with Morgan’s Hotel Group and formerly with Ritz Carlton. Opus is a contemporary boutique hotel, but we seek a range of backgrounds in our shoppers. Contemporary or traditional, large or small, many of the same standards apply - luxury is luxury. To get a variety of perspectives, sometimes we bring in shoppers with no hotel background. Last year we recruited Chris, a partner with Rethink Advertising, avid traveller and boutique hotel aficionado. His assessment was so impressive we hired his firm to refresh our brand.

At chain hotels I’ve worked at we were always in fear of shoppers, whether from head office, ownership, the management company or a travel rating program like AAA. Our greatest dread was that we would appear in one of these reports as the indifferent employee, or the incompetent one, or the one who spilled hot coffee on the inspector. So we regarded each guest as a potential shopper.

The AAA evaluation process was always interesting. The inspector would arrive in town to check out a bunch of hotels, and by the time he got to ours we had been tipped off. We’d roll out the red carpet, so the inspector’s experience was never that of a typical guest. This was sometimes necessary in order to pass the inspection, however, for AAA criteria is strict and unforgiving, particularly for 5-Diamond hotels. One hotel I worked at had its rating downgraded from 5-Diamond to 4, which was devastating to morale. At the time I feared I was somehow responsible, that my name was highlighted repeatedly in that fateful report, even though I worked in sales and had no contact with the inspector.

Certain membership organizations have sales people they pass off as “inspectors”, dispatching them to hotels to evaluate the experience, then extending an “exclusive invitation" to join the club – for a substantial fee.

One night when I was duty manager at the Pan Pacific we were expecting the chain’s president to check in. His suite had been inspected by virtually every manager, with a meticulousness and paranoia rivalling the Secret Service. Unfortunately, no one recognized him upon arrival. He was registered without ceremony and sent off unescorted to one of the smallest rooms in the hotel. When I found out I was mortified. I chased him down, but he waved me away, insisting on experiencing the hotel from a regular guest’s perspective. Things must have gone okay, because I didn’t get fired.

As for this month’s shoppers reports, I'm happy to say that Opus fared exceptionally well. There is always room for improvement, of course, and the feedback from Tom and Susan will help us to get better. This week I’ll be reviewing the report in detail with all department heads.

And then we can focus our attention on the really important shoppers, our paying guests.