The Carribean all-inclusive hotel is a difficult animal to size up; at least as far as objective commentary on quality of service goes. And many fans of this site probably won't care one way or the other how The Royal Hideaway stacks up since they would never spend hard earned dollars and vacation days at any all-inclusive beach resort resort. I can appreciate that. You take something as natural and relaxing as a white sand Carribean beach and you surround it with fake bamboo tiki bars and fake marble waterfalls and fake happy local people and it can be a tough pill to swallow. The view from the infinite pool spoils really quickly should you let yourself wonder how much those fake happy local people are paid in comparison with the board of whatever private equity firm back in the USA that no doubt owns the place.
And once you accept that economic and political reality, there oh so many factors that will determine how good a time you have beyond the competence and training of the staff. Just read Tripadvisor. You'll hear about the weather, the food, the insects, the towels. Did you get your drink delivered promptly? Did the electricity go out? Was something nearby under construction that ruined the fake exotic view of the gardens and pools? These resorts promise so much luxury and oasisness that they almost always come up short in delivering the principal thing that people visiting them are interested in: tranquility. And as a result you may well get your thoughtful moist towel upon arrival and other random bits of fake white glove service, but you will be unable to find a quiet place to read a book the whole time you're there.
These types of places tend to disappoint largely because the premise doesn't work in the first place. The unspoiled tropics are one thing and a golf course is something else. You can't gate off some portion of some island, develop it to the standards that most Americans would take for granted, and not sacrifice the serenity of the location. Fine, it's a tradeoff. I love the beach and I love hikes through jungles to find remote ones. But I also love plumbing and electricity and any destination is easier to talk my wife into if she can get a massage when we get there. The problems arise when these places double down on the glitz and crappy pampering and end up tuning a day at the beach into a cheaply choreographed paradox in which local fresh fruit and fish are replaced on the menu with hamburgers of questionable origin.
So yeah, I'm skeptical about places like this and I understand why a lot of people don't go.
But all of that said, if there can be a balance between remote, peaceful relaxation and modest, first world amenities, The Royal Hideaway achieves it. While developed, the development is understated and, with a few exceptions of fake grandness (the chandeliers in front office come to mind) the overall gaudiness level is pretty low. And for the baseline quality of the hotel, the Michelin rated restaurants and top shelf liquor go a long way to distance TRH from the typical vacation in a box.
As for the service, for all of the above reasons it's really tough to rate. The enormous economic disparity between staff and guests really should lead either to open resentment and hostility or sticky, stifling eagerness to please; neither of which, of course, does much to create a pleasant atmosphere. But here again TRH manages to find the right balance. Nearly every server was approachable and friendly and did a very fine job of ensuring that food and drinks were delivered as ordered in due course. They appeared to take care in managing the presentation of meals with an appropriate sense of circumstances, which is to say that while chips, guacamole and beer arrived in the afternoon by the beach with casual good cheer and little fanfare, the Las Ventanas restaurant was manned with service you'd expect from a Five Diamond spot. It strikes me as difficult to cram a wide range of different attitudes and standards of service into a little hotel and TRH does so admirably.
Less satisfying was the staff that held what seemed like more senior positions. The concierges tend to overplay their roles by a mile, transforming what should be a very quick response to "which way to the pool?" into an extended lecture about whatever seems to come to mind in an apparent effort to showcase their ability with English. Paired with far-too-large smiles, their slightly smug lectures did nothing for my sense of enjoying what the resort had to offer and everything to do with simply avoiding interacting with them at all costs. What's worse, the task they're most obviously on hand to perform is to schedule dinner reservations, and without fail the only times to eat would be somewhere after 9pm; the concierge's obsequious nannying notwithstanding.
And if the concierge puts you off, don't even think about approaching the guys in the main office for any reason. These cats, in their psuedo-military hotel official outfits are astonishingly important and their sneers speak for themselves. We unfortunately decided to borrow a DVD from the front desk one evening and frigidness of the reception we received was staggering. The only comparison that fits the self-image of these few self-righteous pricks is that of the caddymaster at the elite country club who lives his life cowtowing to people he can't stand and takes it out on the kids he bosses around. Something tells me there's a high roller persona that might put these guys back on their heels from time to time and I'm simply not it.
So there's the problem. All in all, the service beat expectations and, within the bizarro world of the Carribean all-inclusive this place shines. But you have to wonder whether that front desk wannabe snob is actually giving you a far more honest perspective on how the staff as a whole feels about its guests than the bartender casually pouring the drinks at the pool. The answer is obvious, but you kid yourself about the resort being something other than an exploitation of a third world natural resource so it's not hard to kid yourself about that too. Either way, from a hospitality perspective they do a fine job and the more I analyze the more I'm uncomfortable passing judgment anyway.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Grand Bohemian Hotel, Orlando Florida
I don't have children and I don't like humidity, so it's hard for me to come up with reasons to go to Orlando. But a wedding is one of them, and after our fifteenth consecutive weekly blizzard, a round of golf and an 80-degree afternoon by the pool really didn't sound half bad. And if the venue for a mini vacation and reunion with some old friends would be Orlando's self-proclaimed "landmark luxury hotel" so much the better, right? So we were ultimately pretty excited to commit to two nights at the The Grand Bohemian Hotel in downtown Orlando for the R-T wedding last weekend.
The first indication that either the GBH isn't Orlando's landmark luxury hotel or that that designation doesn't mean very much came to light upon our call to make our reservation several weeks before arrival. We referenced the wedding party and were told a special rate of $169 / night was available on Saturday night but not Friday, so our first night would total some $286. Now it's always bad news to hear that a wedding invite entails an obligation to shell out Ritz Carlton money, but hearing it during a 20 minute call with several holds and transfers is the kind of thing that encourages a person to give up; the hotel's occupancy rate and the guest's friendship with the groom be damned.
The solution, we were told, was to call the bride and inform her that the wedding's room allocation had been filled so that she would advise the hotel to expand it. From the perspective of the clerk I'm sure this makes all the sense in the world, but to the guest it's just a variation on the most inexplicable thing that any provider of goods or services can do: impose one or more tasks on a prospective purchaser beyond that of simply paying for something. How often have you heard a car salesman say "you know, I'd really like to sell you this car, but before I can take your money you need to call this young woman you've never met who is about to get married and complain to her that you're not getting the advertised price"? Suffice to say, the clerk should simply have made the reservation and promised us that the hotel would contact whatever administrator had the authority to apply the wedding rate.
Upon arrival, confusion over the rate we were charged evolved into confusion over what room we were given which culminated in such awkward gems as my walking in on a couple enjoying a glass of champagne in their ostensibly private room and the hotel's surreptitious retrieval of an amenity basket out of our room for redelivery somewhere else after we had already picked at it. Come on now. No bed and breakfast worth its keep would quietly send someone into a room to take away food that it discovered had been misdelivered. We were asked for our credit card on three separate occaisions as a result of the glitch.
These things happen. A good experience hardly ever depends on the thread count or water pressure but it is in the reaction of the staff to a guest's complaint that any prominent hotel should seek to earn its keep. And while I received no blank stares and none of the GBH representatives came across as a disinterested moron, the exchanges I had with the staff present some discrete teachable moments:
One, if the customer is always right, there is no situation in which the customer is more right than when his disagreement is with a computer. In other words, if I'm telling you on Saturday morning after discovering that my key has been deactivated that I'm not checking out until Sunday, don't ever say "well it says here that you're checking out today." I know it's tempting because you have to rely on your technology to track things and it's very unsettling when it has something wrong, but the computer won't get mad about it and doesn't resent being treated like a serial number so don't ever take the computer's side. (As an aside, it's not as bad and didn't happen here, but by the same token don't ever bang away on the keyboard and mutter about how "I don't know what's going on with this thing today" -- again that doesn't get you off the hook and guests want to get to their rooms, not stand at the counter feeling bad for you.)
Two, your staff needs to listen. Personalities need to be sized up and complaints need to be taken in context. After a whole lot of back-and-forth about where my room was and when I was checking out, one attendant, in an effort to compensate me for the hassle (which effort was in all fairness completely well intentioned), without any sort of segue or precedent abruptly rattled off "are you using wi-fi?" I told him I was not and he responded that he would be glad to comp it for me. Now, setting aside how this hotel's pricing model could involve a $250+ room but a separate charge for internet access, I just told him I wasn't using it. Free wi-fi constituted no value for me. Similarly his abrupt declaration that he was granting me access to the concierge lobby where I could have continental breakfast did nothing for me: our weekend was scheduled out with wedding events and I wasn't looking to skip a meal with old friends in order to take advantage of free muffins.
Three, the lobby desk has two computer terminals and enough room for at least three staff people. If there is anyone waiting in line for something, you can't have all the staff huddled around the same computer attending to a single guest's issues. I know sometimes there are specific problems people have that have a way of consuming resources and sometimes junior clerks need guidance from people with more experience. But short of breaking away to attend immediately to anyone waiting, at very least you have to look up. Think of manning a front desk like driving a car; if you're staring at one thing for more than a few seconds at a time you could miss something and that could be a problem.
Four, I'm keeping this last for emphasis and I really hate that this happened here because it's a much worse transgression than even the you-should-call-the-bride-before-reserving-your-room thing: your hotel being full makes not one bit of difference to the quality of service that I'm expecting so why on earth would you present that to me as an excuse for why I can't get something I've asked for (in this case just access to my room)? By introducing this as a consideration you're raising a host of unpleasant and inappropriate insinuations: you're overworked (and presumably underpaid), you're too busy, you don't care, you don't respect the mission of your employer and the list goes on and on. If you're tempted to say this, stop whatever you're doing and run to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face and get a hold of yourself. If the hotel is full then it's making money and you're doing a good job and as soon as you get a chance you should go ask for a raise.
So the problems here were not insurmountable. Toilets flushed, sheets were clean and the hotel eagerly pursued its avant-guarde art and music niche with charasmatic live music and ubiquitous oil paintings of a quality that I'm in no position to comment on. The real shame is that by the time I had to speak to a manager over the fact that a bag that had been delivered to the hotel by the airline (more on that later) and I was not told about it, he had no choice but to steeply discount our final bill. To his credit, his reaction was immediate, decisive and appropriate and had the intended effect of acknowledging my concerns and satisfying my complaints. But the GBH lost money here. A more personalized and aggressive reaction from more junior staff earlier in the weekend would have gone farther to ensure a good experience and good review at far less expense to the hotel's revenue.
The first indication that either the GBH isn't Orlando's landmark luxury hotel or that that designation doesn't mean very much came to light upon our call to make our reservation several weeks before arrival. We referenced the wedding party and were told a special rate of $169 / night was available on Saturday night but not Friday, so our first night would total some $286. Now it's always bad news to hear that a wedding invite entails an obligation to shell out Ritz Carlton money, but hearing it during a 20 minute call with several holds and transfers is the kind of thing that encourages a person to give up; the hotel's occupancy rate and the guest's friendship with the groom be damned.
The solution, we were told, was to call the bride and inform her that the wedding's room allocation had been filled so that she would advise the hotel to expand it. From the perspective of the clerk I'm sure this makes all the sense in the world, but to the guest it's just a variation on the most inexplicable thing that any provider of goods or services can do: impose one or more tasks on a prospective purchaser beyond that of simply paying for something. How often have you heard a car salesman say "you know, I'd really like to sell you this car, but before I can take your money you need to call this young woman you've never met who is about to get married and complain to her that you're not getting the advertised price"? Suffice to say, the clerk should simply have made the reservation and promised us that the hotel would contact whatever administrator had the authority to apply the wedding rate.
Upon arrival, confusion over the rate we were charged evolved into confusion over what room we were given which culminated in such awkward gems as my walking in on a couple enjoying a glass of champagne in their ostensibly private room and the hotel's surreptitious retrieval of an amenity basket out of our room for redelivery somewhere else after we had already picked at it. Come on now. No bed and breakfast worth its keep would quietly send someone into a room to take away food that it discovered had been misdelivered. We were asked for our credit card on three separate occaisions as a result of the glitch.
These things happen. A good experience hardly ever depends on the thread count or water pressure but it is in the reaction of the staff to a guest's complaint that any prominent hotel should seek to earn its keep. And while I received no blank stares and none of the GBH representatives came across as a disinterested moron, the exchanges I had with the staff present some discrete teachable moments:
One, if the customer is always right, there is no situation in which the customer is more right than when his disagreement is with a computer. In other words, if I'm telling you on Saturday morning after discovering that my key has been deactivated that I'm not checking out until Sunday, don't ever say "well it says here that you're checking out today." I know it's tempting because you have to rely on your technology to track things and it's very unsettling when it has something wrong, but the computer won't get mad about it and doesn't resent being treated like a serial number so don't ever take the computer's side. (As an aside, it's not as bad and didn't happen here, but by the same token don't ever bang away on the keyboard and mutter about how "I don't know what's going on with this thing today" -- again that doesn't get you off the hook and guests want to get to their rooms, not stand at the counter feeling bad for you.)
Two, your staff needs to listen. Personalities need to be sized up and complaints need to be taken in context. After a whole lot of back-and-forth about where my room was and when I was checking out, one attendant, in an effort to compensate me for the hassle (which effort was in all fairness completely well intentioned), without any sort of segue or precedent abruptly rattled off "are you using wi-fi?" I told him I was not and he responded that he would be glad to comp it for me. Now, setting aside how this hotel's pricing model could involve a $250+ room but a separate charge for internet access, I just told him I wasn't using it. Free wi-fi constituted no value for me. Similarly his abrupt declaration that he was granting me access to the concierge lobby where I could have continental breakfast did nothing for me: our weekend was scheduled out with wedding events and I wasn't looking to skip a meal with old friends in order to take advantage of free muffins.
Three, the lobby desk has two computer terminals and enough room for at least three staff people. If there is anyone waiting in line for something, you can't have all the staff huddled around the same computer attending to a single guest's issues. I know sometimes there are specific problems people have that have a way of consuming resources and sometimes junior clerks need guidance from people with more experience. But short of breaking away to attend immediately to anyone waiting, at very least you have to look up. Think of manning a front desk like driving a car; if you're staring at one thing for more than a few seconds at a time you could miss something and that could be a problem.
Four, I'm keeping this last for emphasis and I really hate that this happened here because it's a much worse transgression than even the you-should-call-the-bride-before-reserving-your-room thing: your hotel being full makes not one bit of difference to the quality of service that I'm expecting so why on earth would you present that to me as an excuse for why I can't get something I've asked for (in this case just access to my room)? By introducing this as a consideration you're raising a host of unpleasant and inappropriate insinuations: you're overworked (and presumably underpaid), you're too busy, you don't care, you don't respect the mission of your employer and the list goes on and on. If you're tempted to say this, stop whatever you're doing and run to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face and get a hold of yourself. If the hotel is full then it's making money and you're doing a good job and as soon as you get a chance you should go ask for a raise.
So the problems here were not insurmountable. Toilets flushed, sheets were clean and the hotel eagerly pursued its avant-guarde art and music niche with charasmatic live music and ubiquitous oil paintings of a quality that I'm in no position to comment on. The real shame is that by the time I had to speak to a manager over the fact that a bag that had been delivered to the hotel by the airline (more on that later) and I was not told about it, he had no choice but to steeply discount our final bill. To his credit, his reaction was immediate, decisive and appropriate and had the intended effect of acknowledging my concerns and satisfying my complaints. But the GBH lost money here. A more personalized and aggressive reaction from more junior staff earlier in the weekend would have gone farther to ensure a good experience and good review at far less expense to the hotel's revenue.
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