One of the great things about blogging is that I can name and shame. So I name the Britannia International Hotel and I shame them. For further details, verging on a McVicar of a journey, read on (rant warning, breaking all my attempts at keeping blogs short).
Background: I had a meeting at 0900hrs at Canary Wharf this morning. I decided it would be better to travel down the night before. For someone who spends half his life travelling I am a tad retentive about the whole thing, I just hate being late. So I found a hotel 2 minutes walk from where I needed to be.
The journey: Owing to the fact some friends came around, Zippie and "D", I wasn't going to leave home until quite late. I thought it would be easier to order pizza than cook so that is what I did. The pizza arrived an hour late (and was not a good pizza) so this wasn't a great start. Had to eat it fairly quickly. Then "J" ran me in to the station (obviously I mean drove, I don't do running). At this point, giving myself a pat on the back as I had bought tickets earlier. It is now 2130hrs. The train journey is uneventful, listened to "Under Milk Wood", did some work, all fine. Getting late by the time I get to London so I get a taxi to the hotel. Taxi driver has a sense of humour, I put my headphones in my ears and he speaks, I take them out and answer then wait in case he has anything else to say, finally decide he doesn't, put headphones back on, he speaks. This happens too often for it to be a coincidence. I check the booking form, yes, guaranteed for late arrival, fine (I guess you might be ahead of me at this point). Arrive at the hotel at about 2330hrs. Long queue at check in. Long queue, at half eleven! One or two warning bells going off, but I have a guarantee don't I. Now, you know how it is impossible not to try and overhear an argument. Well I start tuning myself in to what is going on at the desk. Interesting, they don't have a room for that gentleman. Unlucky, he should have got a guarantee shouldn't he. But they don't seem to have a room for that person either. Slightly less "interesting" now. Next person up, no room. OK, tension mounting. Up I go. Say who I am. She looks me up on the computer, there I am, she goes and gets my paperwork, there it is. "Sorry sir". O b....r. (actually I saw this farce happen for 6 people, check name, get paperwork then say no room at the inn, adding minutes on to something that was always going to end in tears). Hotel overbooked. So what does guarantee mean - apparently, if you are the International, nothing. Finally they say they can book me in to another hotel, they will sort everything out as a gesture of goodwill because of the trouble and pay for the hotel, and order me a taxi. I get them to commit to a taxi back in the morning as well.
Breakout: {At this point some sympathy is due for the girl attempting to check in after me, she didn't have a room either but a friend had managed to book in earlier, friend has a spare bed, all sounding good, well now consider that the "friend" is actually an ex-boyfriend, so a real dilemma for her, share a room with him or being 30-45 minutes away with an 0800hrs meeting, a lot of soul searching there I can tell you. Initially a lot of "eww" noises and pulling faces, we all say things like "not good" (obviously the ex wasn't with us at the time), arranged to go to new hotel, but folded at the last moment, an extra half hour in bed (!) didn't outweigh the principle of the thing}.
Back to the story: a taxi arrives and takes me to the new hotel. On the way taxi drives says this is a common occurence for the International and quite often by the time he gets people to the next hotel those rooms have gone as well. Isn't he a bearer of good tidings! I go in, up to the check in (no queues), say who I am and that I have been sent from the International (that sounds more Bond-like than it was at 0015hrs). Oh dear sir. NOOOOooooooo. Actually, not a really serious oh dear, just the International haven't informed them. Do they have rooms? Yes. Will they keep one for me? Yes. Just need to get confirmation from the International. So I wait another 25 minutes. Finally, after a lot of phone calls, a fax arrives. It does confirm that I have come from the International (helpful that) but doesn't confirm that the International will cover my bill. Now I have to admit, had it been 1500hrs I would have stamped my feet, instead I gave up, gave my own card and checked in (which I could have done half an hour earlier if I hadn't trusted the word of the International).
Obviously this is my revenge.
Background: I had a meeting at 0900hrs at Canary Wharf this morning. I decided it would be better to travel down the night before. For someone who spends half his life travelling I am a tad retentive about the whole thing, I just hate being late. So I found a hotel 2 minutes walk from where I needed to be.
The journey: Owing to the fact some friends came around, Zippie and "D", I wasn't going to leave home until quite late. I thought it would be easier to order pizza than cook so that is what I did. The pizza arrived an hour late (and was not a good pizza) so this wasn't a great start. Had to eat it fairly quickly. Then "J" ran me in to the station (obviously I mean drove, I don't do running). At this point, giving myself a pat on the back as I had bought tickets earlier. It is now 2130hrs. The train journey is uneventful, listened to "Under Milk Wood", did some work, all fine. Getting late by the time I get to London so I get a taxi to the hotel. Taxi driver has a sense of humour, I put my headphones in my ears and he speaks, I take them out and answer then wait in case he has anything else to say, finally decide he doesn't, put headphones back on, he speaks. This happens too often for it to be a coincidence. I check the booking form, yes, guaranteed for late arrival, fine (I guess you might be ahead of me at this point). Arrive at the hotel at about 2330hrs. Long queue at check in. Long queue, at half eleven! One or two warning bells going off, but I have a guarantee don't I. Now, you know how it is impossible not to try and overhear an argument. Well I start tuning myself in to what is going on at the desk. Interesting, they don't have a room for that gentleman. Unlucky, he should have got a guarantee shouldn't he. But they don't seem to have a room for that person either. Slightly less "interesting" now. Next person up, no room. OK, tension mounting. Up I go. Say who I am. She looks me up on the computer, there I am, she goes and gets my paperwork, there it is. "Sorry sir". O b....r. (actually I saw this farce happen for 6 people, check name, get paperwork then say no room at the inn, adding minutes on to something that was always going to end in tears). Hotel overbooked. So what does guarantee mean - apparently, if you are the International, nothing. Finally they say they can book me in to another hotel, they will sort everything out as a gesture of goodwill because of the trouble and pay for the hotel, and order me a taxi. I get them to commit to a taxi back in the morning as well.
Breakout: {At this point some sympathy is due for the girl attempting to check in after me, she didn't have a room either but a friend had managed to book in earlier, friend has a spare bed, all sounding good, well now consider that the "friend" is actually an ex-boyfriend, so a real dilemma for her, share a room with him or being 30-45 minutes away with an 0800hrs meeting, a lot of soul searching there I can tell you. Initially a lot of "eww" noises and pulling faces, we all say things like "not good" (obviously the ex wasn't with us at the time), arranged to go to new hotel, but folded at the last moment, an extra half hour in bed (!) didn't outweigh the principle of the thing}.
Back to the story: a taxi arrives and takes me to the new hotel. On the way taxi drives says this is a common occurence for the International and quite often by the time he gets people to the next hotel those rooms have gone as well. Isn't he a bearer of good tidings! I go in, up to the check in (no queues), say who I am and that I have been sent from the International (that sounds more Bond-like than it was at 0015hrs). Oh dear sir. NOOOOooooooo. Actually, not a really serious oh dear, just the International haven't informed them. Do they have rooms? Yes. Will they keep one for me? Yes. Just need to get confirmation from the International. So I wait another 25 minutes. Finally, after a lot of phone calls, a fax arrives. It does confirm that I have come from the International (helpful that) but doesn't confirm that the International will cover my bill. Now I have to admit, had it been 1500hrs I would have stamped my feet, instead I gave up, gave my own card and checked in (which I could have done half an hour earlier if I hadn't trusted the word of the International).
Obviously this is my revenge.
1 comment:
oh..we are both in ranting moods today! And I don;t blame you. Customer service? bah humbug..where does it exist? May be we should start a campaign..name and shame, good and bad....
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