“Your home away from home” is how many hotels like to market themselves. It’s an easy slogan to use, but for many hotel owners I am fairly sure that if they had to live in the properties which earn them a living, they wouldn’t put up with many of the irritations to which they are happy to subject their paying guests. So what are the most basic things a hotel should include to make a guest feel comfortable?

Of course there’s a complication here, in that every person has different requirements and different opinions on what is most important for them in a hotel room. So my wish list is just about my own preferences. But I think the points that annoy me probably annoy most people who stay in hotels (I would think that, wouldn’t I?)

Anyway, here’s what would make the perfect hotel stay for me. Best of all for hotel owners, none of these things are particularly expensive.

1. Decent pillows. Not the ones which are so flat you could post them home in an envelope. And not those which are full of uneven lumps. And no, I don’t want to phone reception to request a pillow from your menu. Just leave a good quality pair of pillows on the bed, and a slightly harder and softer option in the cupboard. Cheap pillows make you look… cheap.

2. A strong, easy-to-use shower. Fancy hotels can be the biggest culprits here. I want to get in the shower, wash myself and get out. I don’t want to spend 10 minutes trying to work out which lever to pull to make the water hot or strong. If you need to explain to guests how to use a shower, you need to change your interior designer.

3. Showers that don’t flood. In an average year I stay in 30 to 40 different hotel rooms. I reckon in at least 10 of those I’ll step out of the shower onto a soaked bathroom floor. Again, the incidence of flooded bathroom floors is not related to the class of the hotel. It’s all very well saying that the cleaner will take care of it, but there’s no fun using a bathroom and getting your feet soaked as you get ready for the day ahead. It’s usually a simple design fault, caused by a hotel choosing style over practicality.

4. Bathroom amenities which don’t need a magnifying glass to work out. It’s not rocket science. Most people over 45 (and many younger ones too) need glasses to make out small print. Glasses are the last thing you think about before going into the shower. And yet most bottles of shampoo and shower gel include tiny writing, often written in a ridiculous font and in a colour that’s almost certainly been chosen to make deciphering them as hard as possible.  Large, clear print would make life a lot easier for many guests – believe me, they might even stop cursing you while they take a shower.

5. Free WiFi without hassle. Fortunately, the majority of places now offer free WiFi. Too many places however still make the process of logging on a real pain. Again, it’s the posher hotels which are often the worst, with separate passwords for each device which have to be entered every time you reconnect your phone or laptop. Why so many hurdles? Are you really scared of outsiders (or even former guests) returning to the hotel and stealing a few precious MB of your WiFi? Don’t make life unnecessarily difficult. A one-time simple log-in should be all that’s required. Nobody would put up with this at home.

6. Decent lights. Having 24 light switches in a single room is annoying enough, especially when there’s no master switch and you have to try and switch each one off before going to bed. Worse still is when all those lights combined still provide little more than a dull glow in the room. How about a central light which lights up the whole room, along with a few lamps at desks or chairs – you know, like you’d have at home? For some reason I’ve never been able to work out, this appears to be too difficult.

7. Painless check-in and check-out. When I arrive at a hotel I want to be in my room as quickly as possible. I don’t want anyone to come up and show me how the lights work, and I don’t want to wait for a welcome drink. 5 minutes should be the absolute maximum time between entering the hotel lobby and being left alone in my room, with all my luggage. And that thing when I’m made to wait at check-out while someone goes into the room to check I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t taken anything from the minibar? Not a good way to end things. If a hotel is going to adopt that approach, better to do without the minibar altogether.

Enough of a rant for now. There’s plenty more to add to this list, but I reckon if I stayed in a comfortable hotel that managed to adopt these simple steps (along with great service of course, the definition of which is another topic entirely), I would be singing its praises to all who would listen.

Comfortable hotels – why are they so rare? is a post from: 501 Places

This was not our rental car. Obviously.

I loathe every aspect of renting a car abroad.

Even the process of booking a car for our recent Sicily trip took far too long; every time I was about to book a car I made the mistake of checking a review site and ended up getting distracted by a stream of one-star ratings from angry customers. In the end I was hooked in by a price of £65 for 8 days rental, and booked a car with Sicily by Car through Holiday Autos, who appeared to have a slightly more favourable (or less terrible) review profile than their competitors.

With such an attractive price I shouldn’t have been surprised by the queue at the Sicily by Car desk in Catania airport. Still, 40 minutes later we were in our Citroen C3 and leaving the car park, ready to set off on our trip. And it was then, before we’d even reached the exit, that I ran into trouble. The gate in front of me was blocked, and I was instructed by waving staff to reverse and turn down an alternative and far too narrow lane, marked out by yellow bollards. Sure enough, I didn’t make the turn cleanly and my rear door brushed against the bollard, leaving a 5mm scratch and a skim of yellow paint. The paint didn’t shift with water or soap, and despite the gallant efforts of a very helpful hotel owner who took me to his friend’s garage to see if he could help, I returned 8 days later to the airport with a small but noticeable scratch.

The Sicily by Car staff were practically salivating when they saw the mark. Within minutes the calculator was getting hammered, seemingly random numbers being entered before a figure of €405 was presented to me with what I remember to be a sneering grin. During our time at the office, we saw 5 or 6 people return their cars and to my knowledge, only one got away without getting clobbered with some sort of charge. Being late for an onward bus and unable to argue my corner, I paid up and left, loudly cursing Sicily by Car and my own stupidity in choosing them for my rental ahead of a less cheap but more reputable firm.

And so the story should end as a lesson about the folly of going for the cheapest car rental. But as I said, there is a happy ending. I had chosen not to pay the £49 fee charged by Sicily by Car and their agents Holiday Autos to take the excess liability from €900 to zero. While the guy at the desk was tapping into his calculator working out how much he was going to extract from my credit card he mocked me with the question, “Why didn’t you take our insurance?”

Instead I’d taken out a rental car excess insurance policy with Direct Car Excess Insurance. It had cost me £17, and I would soon discover whether it was money well spent. I emailed them that day to ask for a claim form, as directed on the policy document. I got the form back immediately from a claims handler at AIG, and having been notified that a claim would be coming they were happy for me to wait until I returned home before submitting the necessary documents.

And so on the day after we returned to the UK, I emailed them with scans of rental contracts, driving licences and credit card statements. Within 2 hours I had a call from the claims handler to check the details, and by the end of that day, the full €405 was sitting in my bank account. Not only had the claim been settled at lightning speed, but they’d also applied the exchange rate at the time of the claim – the pound had strengthened in the subsequent 2 weeks, and I would have lost out by £10 if they’d applied that day’s rate.

I can’t speak highly enough of my interaction with Direct Car Excess Insurance, and would recommend them for anyone renting a car abroad who wants to eliminate their excess without paying the high fees charged by the rental companies.

A tale of car rental woe with a happy ending is a post from: 501 Places

A friend recently asked me for suggestions of where to go and what to do for their upcoming visit to London. As I was typing out a long list of recommended restaurants, it struck me how many restaurants I was consciously leaving off my list; places which were long-time favourites and which for some reason over the years we’ve fallen out of favour with.

Then I started to think about the reasons why we’d lost our enthusiasm for these restaurants and it struck me just how hard it must be for a restaurant to keep its customers constantly satisfied; especially so in a big city, when most of the time the staff aren’t even aware that someone is a regular diner.

There’s a Korean restaurant in London which was one of our regular haunts. We must have been there at least a dozen times over the last few years. We’ve always been happy with the food, the place is usually full, mainly with young Koreans who chat in a mixture of English and Korean and come in with their shopping bags from nearby Oxford Street. It’s a good place to sit back and watch and listen to those around you and the food generally comes very quickly. Service is efficient rather than warm, but we enjoyed it as a good place to go for a fix of spicy chicken, kimchi and seafood pancake.

On a visit a few months back our waiter told us we hadn’t ordered enough and needed to spend more money (three of us had each ordered a main course and a drink). Odd, rather brusque, but given the previous good experiences we were prepared to overlook it. The two of us returned for another visit a few weeks later and were asked to squeeze onto someone else’s table for four, despite there being another empty table nearby. While it was understandable that they wanted to maximise revenue per table, we know from experience that with our normal order involving five or six plates there is no room for our meal on half a table. We made our excuses and ate at an alternative nearby Korean restaurant, but gave our regular haunt another try (they really had built up a lot of good will). This time the restaurant was quiet but we were again prompted towards a small table. We politely said we’d rather have a larger table and, unwilling to make a scene, the waitress gave in but told us we might have to move if a larger group arrived. This was the last straw and although we did stay to eat that day, we have no desire to return. The goodwill has been fully exhausted.

I’m sure the owners of this restaurant don’t really care as they have plenty of other punters to fill their relatively small restaurant. None of the incidents warranted a major complaint on our part and I’m a very reluctant complainer. Besides, the staff were merely trying to be as efficient as possible. So they don’t know they’ve lost a customer, but if we’ve chosen to stop going there I suspect  others have probably done the same.

That’s just one example of several I can readily think of. I’ll never set foot in a branch of Patisserie Valerie again – apart from what I consider their rather plasticky cakes, our last experience left us feeling ripped off. Having ordered a drink (£2.50) I assumed I’d be getting one of the 500ml bottles that were displayed on the counter. I was shocked to be offered only a small glass of that drink to go with our cakes. Apparently that’s what they serve for customers who dine in; whether that’s company-wide policy or not, we won’t be falling for that trick again. London is not short of good cake shops.

And then there are the places that think it’s reasonable to add a 12.5% or even 15% optional service charge onto the bill. If I’m happy with my meal I’ll tip in line with usual British custom (around 10%) but don’t appreciate a restaurant adding this onto the bill automatically. I’ve only refused to pay it once, after a particularly bad experience in a branch of Thai Square. I crossed out the optional service charge from the bill but felt extremely uncomfortable in doing so. It’s also a reason why we haven’t returned to Masala Zone, even though their food is generally pretty good. The discretionary 12.5% service charge is an unnecessary annoyance and while they are free to apply it as they wish, we’re free to choose alternative places at which to eat where tipping is left to our discretion.

Those are just a few examples but when I reflect on them it’s striking how a place can serve consistently good food and still lose our favour. At the same time it can skip on the smiles and friendly service and still keep us happy. What is it that makes us fall out with a restaurant? Maybe it’s a sense of feeling ripped off or the feeling that we’re not really welcome; whatever it is, it’s a largely intangible thing and that really doesn’t help restaurant owners (or business owners in general) who want to keep their regulars coming back for more.

Reasons to fall out with a restaurant is a post from: 501 Places

I read a recent article written by a hotel receptionist (I’ve searched through my archives to try and find a link, with no success) that had me banging my head on the desk in frustration (metaphorically, of course). The author was scathing about the inventor of rolling luggage (suitcases with wheels), saying that they had single-handedly destroyed the income of bellhops. With the advent of bags on wheels, hotel customers are now more likely to say “It’s ok, I’ve got it” and take their own luggage up to their room, so depriving the bellhop of their tips. According to the article, whoever thought of these bags is now responsible for “families going hungry at Christmas”.

Emotional Blackmail

This to me epitomises a major failing across much of the hotel industry,  particularly in the US where so many people rely on the age-old practice of tipping to make a modest living. There is a mindset at play that suggests that customers have a responsibility, a moral duty even, to grease the palms of a whole army of people they come into contact with. The maid in the room deserves a few dollars (“I can’t understand those mean people who don’t think to leave a few dollars for the poor folks who make up their room” was a comment I read in a discussion on this topic); I’ve been advised that I should give the guy who drives my car to its parking space 10 yards away a dollar or two if I don’t want a long wait on my return (or even a scratch, according to some); and as for waiting staff, many folks argue that when you enter into a restaurant you as a customer enter into an unspoken contract with your waiter, and that by not tipping by the expected amount, you are breaching that contract. “If you can’t afford a tip that will be expected, don’t use the service”, says Stacey Julien from AARP.

No business sense

To much of the world this mindset makes no sense at all. Surely, when you walk into a hotel it’s not unreasonable to expect the management to have worked out what it costs to run their business: electricity, maintenance, marketing, wages. Yes, that last one. Paying everyone who works for you a fair wage. Once you have worked out these costs, then you factor them into what you charge the customer and hopefully there’s enough in there for you to make a profit too. Is it so hard?

Apparently it is. When a hotel in Chicago opened in 2010 and announced a no-tipping policy, others were quick to criticise. “Certain positions that have always lived off tips—like doormen, uniformed services staff—what would they do?” asked the president of the American Hotel and Lodging Association. Some people clearly feel that the focus of a hotel should be not on the guests’ experience, but on providing a whole army of people who play a cameo role in their stay with a living scraped together from cast-off coins and dollar bills.

No wonder hotel staff bemoan the rolling suitcase, even though it is obviously a good thing for travellers. Goodness knows what arguments will be made when self-parking cars eliminate the need for valet parking (if there was ever a need for it in the first place).

Basic customer service

Surely it’s blindingly obvious that when your business is about delighting your guests and providing them with a hassle-free, enjoyable experience, the last thing you do is drop them into a moral minefield; or worse still, put them into a situation where they are effectively blackmailed into paying upfront if they want their room to be cleaned properly/bag carried and not lost/car returned without an accidental scratch.

If you even start to put your guests’ satisfaction at the forefront of your business model, paying your staff a decent wage and adopting a no-tipping policy would appear to be a no-brainer.

Rule 1 of basic customer service: it’s about the customer, not you is a post from: 501 Places

It really isn’t a big deal. I didn’t lose any money over the incident and the hotel acted fully within its rights. Yet by a simple action (or inaction) what had been a very pleasant stay ended with us saying that we would stay elsewhere when we next return to the same place.  Here’s what happened.

We’d stayed four nights and were checking out before a morning drive to the airport, some three hours away. I handed over my credit card to pay for the incidentals, which came to around $50. The lady on reception was not the staff member who had greeted us before and appeared to be an emergency stand-in; she betrayed a complete lack of confidence as she spied my credit card and reluctantly dug out the terminal with a look of trepidation.

A moment later and she sighed in frustration, saying “I’ve done it again!”. She showed me the slip and sure enough, she’d entered the date, 12.13.12 into the wrong box and pinged that amount ($1213.12) out to the bank. After scrambling through various instructions she managed to organise a refund payment and eventually took out the correct amount. I know I should have paid with cash.

$1213.12 duly appeared on my credit card statement later that day. The refund took five days to arrive. In that time the pound rose against the dollar and by the time the money was returned to my account it was worth £3 less than when my card had been charged.

I’d lost £3 ($5) down to the stand-in receptionist’s mistake. It’s hardly a big deal, but as I had already told the hotel that I would let them know when I received the refund I wrote to them and mentioned the small cost to me as a result of this incident.

Now it’s at this point that the hotel had two options (maybe it had many more, but two seemed obvious to me).

One: they could view it from their side. They are not responsible for exchange rate fluctuations and having immediately refunded the amount mistakenly debited they need do no more.

Two: they could view it from my side. What would make me, a paying guest, delighted with my overall experience at the hotel and willing to share my views on Tripadvisor and elsewhere? A simple acknowledgement that I had been inconvenienced as a result of their mistake and an offer to return the money would have left me full of praise for their approach to customer service.

They chose the first option. In doing so they did nothing wrong (that’s why I haven’t named them here). They took out a certain amount and refunded it immediately.  The issue with exchange rates was out of their hands as they told me in the email reply.

Yet for such a small amount they missed a golden opportunity to delight an already happy guest. $5 is neither here nor there but if they had returned this they would have shown that they were not thinking primarily about their own processes and liabilities, but rather about the overall experience of their guests. By telling me instead that they couldn’t do anything about exchange rates they left us with the impression that they were only willing to see the issue from their side.

What do you think? $5 is a small amount but was the hotel right to say they could do no more? Did they ignore the bigger picture in not refunding the money? How much are our overall perceptions of hotels influenced by the way they deal with minor issues like these? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

$5 and an opportunity missed – a hotel customer service lesson is a post from: 501 Places

It’s hard to believe any system could be so inefficient. Check into a hotel and, in any decent place you’ll have your key and be in your room in a couple of minutes. Arrive at the airport and you can, in theory, go through security and be at your gate less than ten minutes after entering the airport, using your pre-printed boarding pass. So why is picking up a rental car so painful?

Last week I waited two hours at a rental desk in Lisbon. There were a lot of people in the queue in front of me but this was not the main cause of the problem. As I discovered when I eventually got to the front, the staff were taking 20-25 to process each customer. While this was a particularly unfortunate episode, I’ve waited many times to collect a rental car, wondering why things need to take so long.

What is it that causes this annoying delay? Some of it can be put down to staffing (not enough desks manned at peak time or poorly trained/motivated staff) but there’s another issue that I can’t help wondering about. Why can’t all the necessary information be provided at the time of booking, instead of having someone laboriously write everything at the desk?

We could send a scan of our driving licence in advance (although a licence number should be enough). We could fill out online forms that offer us the option of various insurances while we’re booking. We could tick boxes to show that we understand our liabilities, promise to return the car with a full tank and not to drive along dirt tracks etc. In fact there seems no obvious reason why the system couldn’t be made fully automated. Here’s how it could work:

1. Insert credit card into machine – name, payment details, licence details, chosen insurance/upgrade options are all retrieved from system, with the car key dispensed along with a contract copy that includes location of car and a diagram listing all previously noted scratches/dents.

2. Go to car. Inspect for any discrepancies between printed picture and reality, alerting nearby staff member if anything seen.

3. Drive off.

That’s it. 5-10 minutes from arriving at the rental point and you’re out of the airport and on your way to wherever you need to go.

Is it that hard to create such a process? Such an automated system would reduce the staff costs of rental companies, something they all seem very keen to do; so it’s clearly not about keeping people in work.

Presumably rental companies have thought of such a system and decided it doesn’t make sense for them to do this and that employees need to keep writing by hand the information they could have easily collected in advance. So I guess we’ll have to grin and bear the inefficiency for a while longer. We may be firmly in the 21st century but it appears that the car rental industry is stuck firmly in the past.

Picking up a rental car: why does it have to be so painful? is a post from: 501 Places

Even before the first medal has been contested in the London Olympics it appears that Great Britain has already been crowned champions in one activity. According to a NY Times article we are a nation that enjoys ‘low-grade grousing’ at the best of times and has taken this skill to a new level as a consequence of having the Olympics thrust upon us, with all the resulting pain that being a host involves.

I can’t help feeling a strange sense of British pride when I read this article. It’s hard to dispute too much of what the author of the article Sarah Lyall states. Yes many of us do fear the worst when it comes to London’s transport system falling apart when the world is watching. And we do shake our heads in resignation and wonder how the embarrassing shambles surrounding the Games security could have been allowed to happen. Ask people living in and around London and it’s easy to believe the majority can’t wait for the whole thing to be over so that normal service can resume (with all its usual grumbles).

So why the feeling of pride in our reputation of being among the world’s best moaners? Is it just a case of us seeing the glass as half empty?

I’m quite happy to live in a country where we absorb our news with a healthy pinch of salt and where the words of politicians, journalists, brand managers and marketeers are treated with the suspicion they generally deserve.

To a large extent the London Olympics have been hijacked by people (to be more precise, corporations) who don’t inspire any form of goodwill or happiness. It is sad that the organisers of the Games appear to have taken every opportunity to talk about ‘protecting the sponsors’ brands’ at the expense of the public. That the most visible impact of those brands’ presence will be an inability to buy proper chips or use a universally accepted credit card within the Olympic venues sends out a very negative signal.

This was not how it was meant to be, although perhaps we were naive to ever think it would be otherwise. Hopefully public reaction will ensure that those brand names, so carefully protected, are tarnished as a result of their spiteful behaviour.

Yet come the start of the sport I suspect most of those enjoying a good gripe will get drawn into the excitement of the action. For a few days we’ll pretend to know our keirin from our omnium, our épée from our sabre and our air pistols from our skeets. Our life-long ignorance about minority sports will be momentarily interrupted before we quickly slump back into complete indifference.

Will this enthusiasm be a result of the insincere cries of encouragement given out by discredited public figures? Not in the slightest. Will it be down to the massive advertising campaigns by the sponsors? No, it will be despite of their hypocritical and hollow messages.

Whatever the cock-ups with ticketing, security and inevitably transport, most of us will enjoy the London Olympics in our own way. Just don’t expect us to look happy while we’re doing it.

London Olympics: why it’s good to whinge is a post from: 501 Places

International air travel can provoke many emotions. Airline adverts suggest we will experience a non-stop world of glamour, indulgence and pampering.  But what is the reality? This is a look at how you’re more likely to feel after a typical journey through an airport.

Idiot

First you’re made to feel like a rather stupid child as a voice on the escalator repeats continuously, “When using the escalator please hold the hand rail at all times and take care”. I’ve survived 43 years and many thousands of escalators but suddenly I’m gripped by a niggling anxiety. Have I been doing wrong all this time? After the third repetition I cover my ears and run quickly up the stairs to get away from the annoying voice.

Liar

“Could someone have tampered with you bag without your knowledge?” I fight the urge to tell the truth. Yes, of course they could have. If a professional thief can slip a watch from a man’s wrist without him knowing I am fairly sure that someone smart could have added a mystery item to my backpack while I was sitting on the train to the airport. “No”,  I answer with the confidence of someone who has told this lie far too many times.

Terrorist Suspect 

Those of us who travel regularly will be used to the feeling of guilt and shame if we’re pulled up by security staff for having half a bottle of water in our hand luggage. It’s rather like the time you tried to buy a four-pack of cider at the local newsagents. They knew you were only 16 because they remember your parents coming in for their papers with you in the pushchair. It all comes back to you as you get a withering look that says, “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”

Aid recipient

You know those images of the food truck arriving at the make-shift camp, delivering rice and water to a few thousand hungry faces? You can find that same look of desperation on the faces of most low-cost passengers moments after the call to boarding is announced. There are even the same minor scuffles and looks of indignation as the determined few force their way to the front and get the best of the spoils.

Unwelcome visitor

We have all arrived at a friend’s house and got the distinct feeling that they’d rather we hadn’t come (no? maybe this one is just me). Those questions of how long we’re staying and the need to know exact details on our onward plans are asked too quickly. A similar welcome awaits at many airports, where customs staff are trained to make you feel unwanted and a nuisance. I can sort of accept it when it happens at US immigration (it’s what they do), but it’s not nice when you get a grumpy or rude welcome on arrival back in your own country.

What have I missed? How else are you made to feel on a typical airport experience?

The reality of air travel is a post from: 501 Places

I’m currently arranging a new mobile phone contract. In common with most people I have very low expectations of the customer service I’m likely to receive. This is borne out of years of bitter experience. While the staff often appear incapable of connecting my phone to a functioning network at the price I signed up to, they do display far more enthusiasm in encouraging me to spend extra money on stuff which holds no interest for me. Insurance, technical support, discounted games consoles have all been offered this time in an attempt to increase the value of my custom.

Phone companies of course are not alone. Fast food joints have long used the ‘would you like fries with that?’ line. Presumably it works, as do the frequent requests from museum staff to buy a guide book or the staff in the hardware shop to buy a box of ‘special offer’ light bulbs.

Of course the concept is not a new one. Many businesses have long worked on the principle that you entice punters with an attractive low headline rate and then proceed to fleece the customer with numerous add-ons, whether requested or not. Airlines offer headline rates that few can secure and then whack on their own surcharges; restaurants offer discounts that are soon cancelled out by doubling the cost of drinks, while the assistant selling you a new computer is more interested in you opting for product insurance than in you buying the item itself.

Perhaps of all businesses it is hotels that offer the most needless and irritating examples of upselling. Resort fees, internet and parking charges are piled on in a seemingly deliberate attempt to wind up their guests, while food and drink prices appear to be governed by how much the management think they can get away with.

It doesn’t have to be like this. A few enlightened business owners (perhaps from their own experiences as customers) have chosen to surprise their clients by their contrarian behaviour. We’ve stayed in a couple of hotels where the contents of the mini-bar were complimentary. Ok, they weren’t packed with malt whiskies and brandies, but there was enough beer, juice, water and chocolate to leave these guests very impressed, for what is a relatively small outlay to the hotel.

Do guests pay for these treats in their room rate? Of course they do. But there’s a lot to be said for the giving the impression that staff are more concerned about you having the best experience than in relieving you of extra cash at every opportunity.

Is this simply down to applying a high initial price that then allows you to be generous to your customers by giving back out of the excess you’ve charged? If this were the case then £300 hotels would not charge £25 for parking while £50 alternatives offer it for free; the motel wouldn’t offer a complimentary packed lunch while the 5 star hotel provides the same service for £15.

The ability to make customers feel valued is surely all about attitude and not economics; the ability for those in charge to be able to say “how would I like to be treated if I was the customer?” It’s such a simple starting point for any business philosophy yet it’s one that appears to be a million miles from the minds of those who create ‘the customer journey’.

“Would you like fries with that?” Is upselling upsetting the customer? is a post from: 501 Places

Ask a friend or work colleague about their holiday and the chances are that the description will fall somewhere between amazing, awesome and brilliant. In most cases we don’t need to ask; the bronzed storyteller will proudly share every highlight of their holiday with anyone who can’t get away in time.

And yet, go to the average holiday destination and what do you see? While plenty of folks do manage to relax and enjoy the break away from their daily routine, many others can be seen to moan, grimace and grumble their way through their entire holiday. Everything is expensive, the food is bad, no-one speaks English and the locals are unfriendly.

So how do we reconcile this difference between the fantastic stories we hear from those who have returned from their breaks and the miserable faces that many of the same people wear while they are actually enduring their holiday? Does our memory fade so quickly from the ordeals we feel we suffer on our travels, damping down the details of those culinary or transport-related horrors and leaving only the smiling faces and the uplifting moments?

Cognitive dissonance 

Those who have studied marketing or psychology will be familiar with the term cognitive dissonance. This refers to the discomfort we feel when we hold two conflicting views. We tend to rationalise how we view our own experiences to match with our previous expectations. Marketeers know this and will act to reduce our cognitive dissonance relating to their brands.

For example if we purchase a new car it is not unusual to receive numerous phone calls and leaflets in the following months from the car company. They know they are not going to get another sale so quickly. What they do know is that we are exposed to other brands who tell us that their alternative is faster, smoother or better value than the one we chose. By reinforcing the belief that our purchase decision was the right one, they aim to reduce our cognitive dissonance and hope that in the long run we will become repeat customers.

So it is with our own travels. However much a holiday may stink people will have invested a huge amount of time, money and emotional effort in preparation of their trip. In the weeks prior to departure they will have told others what they were going to do on the trip and everyone would see just how excited they were. When the reality doesn’t quite match the expectation, there is a tendency to rationalise and make that reality sound a little more like the pictures they had already painted. It’s usually not a case of lying; they just remember the highlights a little more vividly while putting the more traumatic moments down as mishaps that make a great story over dinner.

Next time you hear someone tell you just how amazing their holiday was and that you should immediately pack your bag and follow their lead, it might be worth just pausing for a moment. Did they really have the trip of a lifetime? Or is the account they are sharing with you a distorted one, created in their mind as a way of shielding them from the reality of a trip that didn’t live up to their expectations?

Why other people’s holidays are always great: the magic of cognitive dissonance is a post from: 501 Places