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.