Postcards from the city

Today's city is Sydney. If I was to send postcards today, here's what I would write on them. Maybe I should just tweet, but thought I'd write my thoughts in one place today.

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Why is the toilet paper's placement in relation to the toilet only functional for members of Cirque du Soleil?

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Gee whiz, the shower caps are shrinking! Or maybe my hair is getting bigger.

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I wish I knew how those unmarked mixer taps in the shower worked. All I know, is that one direction is boiled chicken and the other is goosebumps. It's always too late when I work it out.

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Walking through the park back to the hotel today, everyone was lying around and kissing each other. Not the homeless people though. They weren't kissing each other.

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There's a messaging function on the television in my hotel room. I'm scared the TV will start messaging me. Hang on...it says "massaging". What...?

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I pull the curtains back and gaze through the filthy windows. I am on the sixth floor. Over the road, five storeys up, a small Asian man is tethered to an unseen point inside the building. He is wearing tennis shoes and carrying a window. He hunches forward as he passes a column which leaves him with mere inches of space on the awning. He clutches the window. It is taller and wider than he is. I wait for him to fall. He doesn't. 

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At a busy intersection, my chances of hailing a cab should be good. After ten minutes I reassess. After fifteen minutes I start seeing things. I open the rear passenger door after I've seen the driver nod and the car stops. A startled Japanese woman squeals and recoils at the dangerous beast breaking into her cab. The light was red.

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An empty cab arrives. The driver is displeased. He complains. About traffic. About driving a taxi. About the weather. About me. About turning right. I insist. He complains when I pay him. Poor man. He no longer knows what is good.

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After walking through the park, I took these pictures of important Latin American men:

© 2015 divacultura

© 2015 divacultura

© 2015 divacultura

Checking in - what are they typing?

I've often wondered what hotel, airline and rental car check-in staff are typing when I'm checking in.  While I rarely deal with airline check in staff these days (I've usually checked in online), this week I've checked in to two different hotels in two different cities and rented a car.

On arrival at the hotel in Sydney the other night, I was very tired.  The drive had taken longer than usual because of road works and Sydney drivers.  It was 8:35pm and I also needed some food.  I didn't get to my room until 9pm.  Why?  Because the guy was TYPING.  What? Surely he wasn't updating his facebook status.  Perhaps he was tweeting or writing a chapter in his novel.  While he was typing, he was grimacing. Was he struggling with syntax? Parsing a sentence or two? Quickly jotting down the next line of dialogue in his award winning screenplay?

I asked him if there was a problem.  He said there wasn't.  He continued to type.  After further typing and grimacing, he left the desk and loped over to a man sitting at a desk opposite where we were standing.  That guy started typing too.  After what seemed an interminable amount of time, my artist in residence, loped back and did some more typing.  

I changed tack and asked if everything was okay.  He said it was. I started to shuffle impatiently as he added a line or two to his sonnet. Then he handed me my keys and announced that I had been upgraded to a suite. I was relieved that I hadn't had my cranky pants on. Twenty-five minutes it had taken!

Fire plume over the Stadium, taken from the 12th floor balcony
 of my hotel in Olympic Park.
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

The suite had everything except a butler and a friend to share it with.  The spa was heaven sent after the physio had prescribed soaking in a bath for my knee.  There was room to sleep, room to work, room to cook (well heat stuff in the microwave), room to relax and room to swim laps in the enormous spa. There was a balcony to step out onto and view the fires in western Sydney.

As I stepped out onto the balcony, a sticker on the door caught my eye.  It warned me that "for my own safety" the door would close and lock behind me.  I gripped the door and didn't step too far out.  I imagined what would happen if I was trapped on the balcony with no mobile phone.  It would be hours before I was found.  It would be the cleaners in the morning.


That would give typing man something to write home about.  It would be a story for his blog that's for sure.

The morning after the fires, from the same spot.
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

How I stop regular travel being a drag.

Here I am in Perth again.  With all this regular travel there are some things that make life a bit easier on the road.

1. Finding a hotel where the staff care and the facilities are pleasant can be a challenge, but it's worth it.  Today when I checked in, I was greeted warmly and the woman at the desk commented that I'd stayed before and welcomed me back.  Although I know she would have been reading something on the screen, she was genuine in what she said and clearly the check-in system was well designed to give her relevant information.   She asked about breakfast and I was able to pre-purchase vouchers at a cheaper price than if I just turned up in the morning.  About ten minutes after I'd settled into my room she called to see that everything was okay.

2. I have a travel toiletry kit that stays packed with all the stuff I need to take.  When I'm going away I just need to check whether anything needs topping up, but otherwise I just sling it into the suitcase.  (I regularly collect samples of favourite products I regularly use from the stores I frequent too.)  Dry shampoo is my latest discovery.  With long hair to maintain washing and styling can require a lot of extra stuff.  Now I plan ahead to make sure I'm travelling with freshly washed hair and if needed I can use the dry shampoo to freshen up.  That stuff is great, but can't be carried in hand luggage as it's aerosol.

3. The greatest gift I've ever received from an airline was electronic bag tags when I reached the next frequent flyer status level.  I check in online or from my mobile and then go straight to bag drop when I arrive at the airport.  Much more efficient than standing in lines.

4. A small size laptop to take on the go.  Mine fits in a large handbag.  When I'm at home I use it to connect to my television so I can watch video stored on my portable hard drive.  I have a tablet too, but it's for accessing documents and not great for writing.

5.  To complement my laptop and tablet, I finally invested in decent mobile broadband as the rates in hotels are extremely inflated and it's not always convenient to go on the hunt for somewhere with free wi-fi; and there are security considerations with public networks that I now don't need to worry about.

6. Smells can evoke home.  Usually hotel rooms smell of cleaning products, or worse, like the last person who stayed there.  I have a portable aromatherapy diffuser that travels in its own zip up pouch with enough space for two small bottles of essential oil.  I carry a lively and refreshing oil like peppermint or lime which I diffuse when I first arrive and also a sleep blend for bedtime.  My hotel room smells familiar.

7. I always pack my walking shoes and make time to wander around at the beginning or the end of the day.

8. When I return home I unpack immediately.  I don't want to be living out of a suitcase after I've returned home.  Toiletries and aromatherapy diffuser stay in the suitcase.

9. Lastly I have my own reliable taxi driver.  He always turns up on time or sends someone if he can't come.  Again, there's no waiting in lines.

What do you do to make regular travel easier?

Another epic journey - or where the hell is my credit card?

I've just arrived in Sydney.  By "just arrived" I mean I walked into my hotel room about an hour ago.  I arrived in Sydney two and a half hours earlier having left Melbourne 90 minutes before that. You see I had to hire a car and drive way out west.  In the dark.  It nearly was too - I couldn't find the headlights.  Every time I thought I had them the windscreen wipers would start or the boot would fly open.  Luckily I discovered these things before I pulled out of the (very snug) car space. I needed the navigation system just to find my way out of the car space.  It doesn't work without a "clear view of the sky", which is very hard to have when you're on the ground floor of a multi-storey carpark.  I trusted my instincts and followed the arrows.

I drove and drove and drove and drove and arrived at my hotel.  I went to provide my credit card for the customary credit card imprint and it wasn't in my wallet.  Clearly the trainee who did all the paperwork for the hire car still had it.  I gave it to him so that I was covered for tolls.  Surprisingly the woman who checked me in at the hotel offered to call the hire car company.  I let her.  We could find no one to answer the phone and resorted to calling the accident hotline.  I figured I could claim a lost credit card was an accident.  Luckily I wasn't bleeding by the side of the road, because we would probably be on hold until sometime next week.  The most worrying thing was they had my phone number and I had left them 90 minutes earlier and they hadn't called to say they had my credit card.  I called the bank.  It gave me something to do while I waited for room service and figured out how to fill the kettle.

© divacultura 2013

The bank was excellent.  They put a temporary stop on the card until I could speak to the car people tomorrow and see if they did have my card.  I started to worry that in a moment of ennui I had left the card in the car or in my handbag.  I checked both.  I hadn't.

Room service arrived surprisingly swiftly.  The waitress asked me how my day had been.  I told her.  She asked if she could get me anything else: a cup of tea? a martini? a cuddle?  She looked like she meant it.  If she had been six feet tall, laughing eyes, nicely muscled and a bloke - or George Clooney -  I would have accepted.

No sooner had I ripped the skin off my barramundi than my phone rang.  It was Terrence from the hire car company and he had my credit card.  He was very apologetic.  At least I know where it is and won't be worrying all night.  I don't have time.  I have to figure out a way to fill the kettle so I can make a cup of tea.  Should have taken up that offer.

© divacultura 2013

Modern problems - making toast on a conveyor toaster.

I travel a fair bit for my work and so often find myself in hotels.  This week I'm visiting Perth and am confronted with the upward pressure that the mining boom is putting on prices as tiny little three star hotels have prices normally associated with 4 star comfort.  This time, I've struck gold in terms of the price being commensurate with the amenities.  I've been reminded of some of the challenges of living on the road.

© divacultura 2013

I've written before about that particular dilemma of filling the kettle in the bathroom sink.  As you can see from this photograph, this is one of the challenges I am having.  I might end up taking the kettle into the shower with me to fill it!

This morning I was struck by another problem which is often encountered anywhere that bulk, self serve breakfast - otherwise known as the "buffet" - is being served.  It is another one of those modern problems that I'm sure you'll recognise - turning bread into toast in one of those conveyor belt toasters.

Yes, as I write this and remember to my experience this morning, I can see the nods of recognition around the world and hear the cries of "oh yes!" also signalling recognition.

The conveyor belt toaster seems like a good idea  You put your bread in one end, it travels between two elements designed to turn both the upper and lower sides of the bread into toast.

Now, perhaps I should take nothing for granted, check my assumptions, and make sure we all have a shared understanding of the word which is central to this discussion: "toast".  By toast I mean bread that has been browned on both sides and in the process of browning has become warm/hot.  When eaten, toast is crisp/crunchy.  When spreading butter on toast, the butter should melt and you should hear the sound of the knife scraping on the crispy toast.

So, if my definition of toast is accepted as universal, then what is the expectation we share when bread is put into a toaster?  Well I don't know about you, but I expect that the bread will be turned into toast, in accordance with the above definition.

That's not controversial or contentious is it?

So I approach the bread this morning at the buffet and take a look at the toaster.  It's a conveyor toaster.  I sigh.  I place the bread at the start and send it on its journey through the elements.  Out the other end comes....no, not toast, but warm bread.  The colour is exactly the same as what went in, that is, bread colour - it has not been browned; the temperature is warm but there is no crunch or crispness.  This is not toast.  It is merely bread which has been heated.

A grey-haired woman tells me urgently to "put it through again - it needs to go through again!" No kidding!  It's not toast yet.  But I am wary.  I do want toast, but I know what happens now, I put it through again and I get two squares of charcoal and the fire brigade standing by and comments from the grey-haired woman like "ooh, you can't eat that - it'll give you cancer! Charcoal is carcinogenic you know!"

I put the warm bread through again and I get charcoal.

I speak to the waiter.  He looks at me as thought I'm speaking Martian.  He then shrugs and says the magic words which I knew he would say: "It's set for raisin toast."  So just checking in here, raisin bread will achieve a state of toast at a lower temperature and in a shorter time than white or grain bread due to its sugar content.  If the conveyor toaster doesn't take account of this, raisin bread will turn to charcoal and the fire brigade will be called every time raisin bread is put in the toaster.

A dilemma?  Well I don't see the problem.  It seems to me that the hotel simply needs to be honest about what the objective of the toaster really is instead of continuing to pretend that the toaster exists for the purpose of turning bread into toast.  Clearly the objective of having a toaster is to make charcoal.  If we examine the process of creating charcoal, the various materials available and the efficiency in the process, the dilemma of what settings to use on the toaster is resolved!  Forget about the raisin bread and set the toaster to optimise creating toast for white and grain bread.  Doing this means charcoal is created on one trip through the toaster instead of two.  It's much more efficient.  Charcoal production is up.  Everyone wins!

If I want my toast to be black rather than brown, I'll slather on the Vegemite.

I hope you find this post useful.  Having clear definitions of things can avoid so many problems.  For example, I never would have faced the great Portuguese accommodation scandal as to whether a mini toast (that I would normally eat pate on) could be classed as "toast" for the purposes of charging for bed and breakfast.

Identity protection is an uphill battle

Lately it seems I'm receiving requests to do things that other people advise very strongly not to do - hand over a copy of my passport and leave details of my credit card with people.

A couple of the projects I'm working on at the moment, are paying me as an employee rather than as a consultant.  It's been a while since I've been through the engagement process as an employee and the request for identity documents and proof of my work status is the thing that has changed.  I am being requested to provide a copy of my passport which will be held on file.  The reason being cited is so that they know I am allowed to work in Australia.  The most curious part of one of these requests is that the request was made by an organisation for whom I already work sporadically!  At one stage I was advised that every separate department would require a copy of my passport which I thought was bizarre.

I had a conversation with the HR department who told me that they need to be satisfied that I am eligible to work in Australia.  I guess that's fair enough, but what about all the warnings about identity fraud?  Oh - they hadn't thought about that.  I don't need to provide a copy of my passport to everyone in the organisation now.  I reminded them that I'm already working for the organisation and they gave me my favourite answer, "we're required by law".  Of course my follow up question was "which law?".  The response to that was "I'll put you through to my supervisor" which is always a sure sign that they don't know what law, it's just an easy phrase that ends most lines of questioning.

So I speak to the supervisor who tells me again that "it's the law".  When pressed, she tells me it's the "Immigration Law".  "But I'm not an immigrant - I was born here."  Silence.

"I was born in Australia.  I'm not an immigrant.  I'm not sure what your requirements are."

Silence again.

"I've had a look at the Department of Immigration website and employers certainly need to minimise the risk of employing someone illegally.  Given that I'm from here, surely you can ask me to sign a declaration."

"No.  We need to see your passport."

"What happens if I don't have one?"

Silence.

"It's your choice."

And if I choose not to follow their instructions, then I will no longer be able to work on the project, despite being personally approached.  i called Fair Work Australia to see what they thought about the requests but was told they didn't know anything about it.  "We've never heard of this happening" they said.  Well I'm telling you now!

My passport has recently expired.  I'm in the process of renewing it and noticed the warnings about keeping identity papers safe.  Not very easy to do, it would seem.

The other request is to do with security deposits at hotels.  I understand the need for hotels to guard against dishonesty and to secure stuff that unscrupulous people could easily walk away with. There is a wide variety of practices.  Some hotels just want to make sure you have a valid credit card - taking one cent to prove it.  Other hotels are happy with a cash deposit or EFTPOS bond - both refundable immediately.  The thing I particularly rail against is the taking of a credit card imprint and holding anywhere from $100 to $200 as security bond on the card.  The funds are not able to be used, but there has been no actual charge to the card.  This process is done in an instant, but takes between 3 and 7 business days to reverse.

"We know that's a long time, but it's not our fault - it's the bank's."

Having been burnt a couple of years ago, I have learnt not to leave details of my credit card behind.  I did this once and had charges being put onto my credit card long after I left the hotel.  They were not my debts either!

This week in Perth I was booked into a hotel that wanted my credit card so they could hold $150 security bond.  We had the usual question on check-in.  It's another one of those "choices" - you don't have to do it, but if you don't they won't check you in.  When I checked out, I asked for my credit card details to be destroyed (they had a paper imprint).

I was advised that the details would be destroyed after they had contacted my bank.  They told me that this would happen that day but that it would then take 7 - 10 business days for the funds to be released.  Yes that time frame has extended from the original quote.  I said that I wasn't satisfied and that I wasn't prepared to leave my credit card details with them.  It was then revealed that the funds could be released immediately if the hotel faxed the bank.  To do this I would have to provide the bank's fax number.  My cab to the airport was waiting outside and I didn't have the fax number for my bank on me, so couldn't take up this option.

So in the digital age where money exists as code somewhere on the web, to get something done immediately requires a fax to be sent.  I don't buy it.

There are two things I'm going to add to my travel kit - the fax number of my bank and a load and go plastic card that I will put $200 onto specifically for the purposes of security deposits at hotels.  Or I'll leave them cash.  I've tried this before and for some reason some hotels won't take cash as a deposit.  I wonder why?

I phoned Consumer Affairs about this last year.  I received the shrug of the shoulders and was fobbed off to the Financial Services Ombudsman who deal with complaints against financial institutions.  My complaint is about hotels.

The other thing I don't understand is that when you need a refund for a purchase anywhere with a credit card, that refund is processed immediately upon presentation of the card used for the original purchase.  When I raise this point, I receive blank stares.

Perhaps I'm being paranoid, but I like my identity and have read enough about victims of identity fraud to know that I don't want to be one of them!

Vibe or Vile?

Hotels are interesting places.  I started and finished my stay at the Vibe in Sydney with an argument.  I find the attitudes towards guests vary wildly - some are delighted to have guests, others are contemptuous and seem to do everything possible to ensure you don't come back.  Ever.  The attitudes don't seem to bear any relationship to the number of stars or the price of a room.

On arrival at the hotel, I discovered they wished to "hold" or "pre-authorise" $200 on my credit card and take a copy of my driver's licence.  The $200 would not be available again on my credit card until "at least" 24 hours after checking out.  This last part is blamed on the banks.

I stay in a lot of hotels and understand the need for personal details and some kind of security.  As a matter of principle, I will not allow money to be held on my credit card if it is more than $1.  I'd prefer to leave a cash security deposit which can be refunded instantly.

After some wrangling I managed to negotiate $25 to held on my credit card and $175 to be paid via EFTPOS.  When it was done, the man who was serving me (the duty manager) "accidentally" put the transaction through as a purchase on the credit card.  He then refunded it and put it through again as a pre-authorisation.  The interesting thing about this is that they all come up as a debit on the credit card and therefore $50 had been debited to the credit card.   I had negotiated for $25 out of the credit card because that was the amount of available credit on the card.  The manager's mistake put me over the credit limit.  Thanks very much. It has taken three days for the reversal to come through on the actual card.

On enquiring about breakfast later in the evening I was asked if I'd like to book for the buffet.  I asked if that was necessary and was informed that breakfast without a booking costs $29, but with a booking it costs $20.  Lucky I checked.

I was upgraded to a junior suite and it is great to have extra  other than the bed.  That's an appreciated gesture, but doesn't remove my concerns about the hotel's credit card policy.

The most interesting and bizarre aspect of the conversation I had with the duty manager was his statement that the credit card policy is designed to keep me safe!  When I asked him to explain this he muttered something about being a "CBD hotel" with people coming an doing.  He was very displeased when I used the term "better class of guest".

Checking out was a very complex and fraught experience.  Firstly there were extra breakfasts and dinners and items from the mini bar which I had not incurred.  Then they tried to subtract the $25 credit card charge from the cash deposit I had left!  (They reduced the cash deposit from $175 to $150 on the bill before deducting all the phantom charges.)

It pays to check the bill in detail before you pay.  I've noticed that hotels often ask for payment and then you get a receipt.  After a few bad experiences I now ask to see a printed bill which I check before I pay.  It means they have to print two pieces of paper, but I don't think it's reasonable to ask for payment without providing details.

I think it's quite revealing that the staff at the hotel were put in a position where they were apologising for the hotel's credit card policy and agreeing that it is onerous and unfair.  The cutest part of all is that the bill will automatically be paid with the credit card provided on check in.  That attracts a 1.5% surcharge regardless of the card used.

Once settled I asked for the copy of my driver's licence to be returned to me and left as quickly as I could.

LAST CHANCE TO WIN!

To win one of three in-season double passes to "Bachelorette": leave a comment at the end of this blog telling us where you met your oldest friend.  Entries close Saturday 10 November 2012.  Winners will be drawn randomly, announced on the blog and contacted individually.

Good luck!

* Passes are valid even with a "no free tickets" listing at participating Australian cinemas.

Modern problems - filling the kettle in a hotel room

One of my great life challenges is to successfully fill a kettle in a hotel room.  It sounds like a simple task.  If you've ever tried it, you'll know that it isn't.  In some rooms, the task is so enormous, that I have looked behind the curtains and in the light fittings for hidden cameras.  I've checked for two way mirrors that have a studio audience and a host on the other side.

In most rooms the only sink is the handbasin in the bathroom.  It is using this basin, with its taps, that the filling of the kettle will be done.

If only that were possible.  Depending on the age of the bathroom fit-out, the water spout will be so small or snug against the bottom of the basin, or won't stick out very far over the basin (overhang?) that getting anything bigger than a thimble under the water stream is impossible.  It may be possible to wet one's toothbrush.  Just.  Forget about putting your head under the tap for some water! Alternatively, the tap may have a nice high arch, but the spout lines up with the lip of the basin, leaving just enough room to wet the aforementioned toothbrush.

The height of the kettle compared to the design of the basin and its tap will be ridiculously tall.  Sometimes it is possible to manoeuvre the kettle under the tap, but the angle is such that the water flows out of the kettle as fast as it flows in.  If you notice this happening, whipping the kettle out from under the tap will result in a wet bathroom.  Gently angling the kettle to slide it BACK,  UP and DIAGONALLY, will result in the thimble full of water that had accumulated over the last agonising ten minutes being poured straight down the drain.  The emptying part usually takes less than five seconds.

A few places I've stayed in lately have a better tap design, but have provided a mini kettle.  These mini kettles are so small that they hold about a thimble full of water.  Do you know how many times you have to fill and boil the kettle to make a cup of tea when the kettle only boils a thimble-full of water at a time?  And by the time the tea cup is full, never mind a tea POT, the cup is full of cold water and the tea has gone the colour of week old dishwater.

Other places provide a plastic jug of water in the fridge.  The problem with this is that the water in the jug usually tastes like the jug itself.  It smells like the chemicals from the plastic plant where it was made.  Who knows how long the water in those jugs has been in there!  Even if the water didn't taste like plastic, I'm too frightened to use much of the water because I know that I'd never be able to refill the jug again.  I'm sure it will be written in the fine print I signed that the leaving of an empty jug will result in the charging of a ridiculously inflated water levy.  I'm just not prepared to take the chance.

Some rooms have a bath which solves the problem of the handbasin.  The problem with this is that hotels that are swanky enough to have a bath usually have a handbasin the size of a small reservoir with a correspondingly large tap which presents no logistical problems regarding the filling of the kettle.  This is just as well because in these rooms, my time will be taken up working out my lighting zones.  How many switches can one room reasonably have?  My whole apartment seems to have only one power point;  I am single-handedly supporting the double adaptor manufacturers, importers and retailers.

In the absence of a bath, the other source of water is the shower.  I have, on occasion, resorted to using the shower to fill the kettle.  This required some pre-planning.  Stripping naked to fill the kettle seems like an extreme measure, but the one time I didn't do it I regretted it.  When those labels on the suit say "dry clean only", they aren't mucking around.  It was one of those hand held showers with a hose attached.  At the slightest hint of water pressure, the hose went rigid and the shower head flailed around, spraying water all over everything.  I spent the next day making outlandish claims that the short sleeved safari suit was making a comeback for women, particularly when worn with a sense of irony.

I needed something stronger than a cup of tea after that little episode.

Most inns will claim that their rooms are equipped with complimentary tea and coffee facilities.  Of course they can afford to give it away for free - no one can use them!  (And if you do, you'll discover the teabags are filled with pencil shavings and the coffee sachets with brown powder).  To get around this, I now travel with my own thimble and can fill a kettle with enough water to make a cup of tea in just under an hour.  It's these travel hints that are priceless and I share it now for free.

What's your favourite travel tip?

There's no extra charge for anything you may find under your pillow - when customer service goes wrong.

I'm in a hotel in Western Australia. Its address is "Grand Boulevard".  The minute I heard the address I prepared myself for disappointment. It's not really a boulevard. There's nothing grand about it. I see no evidence that I am in a city.

The walls are so thin communication is possible without technology of any kind. My colleague reported hearing me wake up this morning. We weren't in the same room. When I asked what he had heard, he told me he heard me turn the light on! No gentlemen callers on this trip.  The pillows are lumpy - all four of them.  But the bathroom is clean and the bed is comfortable, apart from the pillows. They are lumpy. All four of them.

It's not the worst I've stayed in.

There was the infamous incident involving surprises lurking under the pillow.

I had arrived at this particular hotel at around 10pm in the middle of an intense week of travel and meetings in various cities.  All I wanted to do when I arrived was have a shower and snuggle into bed.  Instead, at 11pm I was on the phone to reception in a less than happy frame of mind.

The first part of the plan had gone well enough. I was showered and dressed in my night attire (I love that phrase) and in bed.  As I was getting comfortable - on my side with a hand under the pillow - I felt something odd.  I lifted my head and moved the pillow which led to the discovery of tissues -used and belonging to someone else -under the pillow. Lumpy pillows would have been preferable.

I leapt out of that bed and tore the sheets and blankets back.  Looking for - and hoping not to find - other foreign bodies.  Then I picked up the phone. I expected that anyone would be horrified to learn that this had occurred in their hotel.  Non-plussed is a more accurate description of the reaction.  I had to ask for another room.  There were none available.  I had to propose that someone come to my room, very quickly, with clean bedding.

I was virtually asleep on my feet so I stripped the bed so it could immediately be remade with fresh sheets.  The hard faced sourpuss who attended was not happy that I had stripped the bed.  Apparently I had destroyed the evidence! As a consequence, she had no way of knowing if I had concocted the story. My response was sarcastic; along the lines of "of course I concocted it.  My aim was to be arguing with you, dressed in my pyjamas, at 11:30pm, in my third city of the week!" I then stood back and watched her make the bed.

She didn't apologise. She didn't show any empathy for my situation. The used tissues which were under the pillow of my bed were an imposition only on her.  I was just the person left with an urge to boil my pyjamas.

The next morning on checkout my plan was to wait and see if they acknowledged or apologised for the incident.  They didn't. It was as if it never happened. They told me how much I owed. Before I paid I asked what consideration I was to be shown for the dirty bed. They looked embarrassed and said it wouldn't happen again.

"I know it won't.  Well not to me anyway. I won't be staying here ever again," I responded.  I had been a regular guest, staying there two to three times a month.

Only then did they try to keep me as a customer. It was too late.

You might think that the customers who would be most loyal to an organisation would be those who had never had a problem in their dealings.  This is wrong. There's some research that shows the most loyal customers are those who have had a problem that has been well handled by the business.

On reflection this rings true when I think about the tissues in the bed incident. I probably would have gone back if they had dealt with me and the situation better. The main thing that was missing was a simple apology. And acknowledgement that what had occurred was unacceptable.  Instead I was left with the feeling that this kind of thing happened all the time and it was really annoying when people complained about it and further, only annoying people would make a complaint.

As I sit in the brown decor of my hotel room on Grand Boulevard (that is neither grand nor a boulevard) I give thanks for lumpy pillows on a clean bed and rest easy in the knowledge that I won't need to boil my pyjamas.

Do you know how to apologise?