I’ve worked in customer service positions in some capacity for the past 20 plus years. I started in 9th grade working at a McDonald’s restaurant very near where I grew up, and I took the job very seriously. I then became a cashier at a local buffet restaurant, where I prided myself on being able to move the line during peak times more efficiently than any other cashier and keeping my cash-drawers penny-perfect.
Over the years, there’s been lots of retail, salons, cruise ships and gyms. All of my jobs have always had a huge customer service component. This may be why I’m so routinely annoyed, frustrated and bothered by the incredibly low bar that is currently set for most companies when it comes to customer service. Nothing annoys me more than handing over my hard-earned cash to some teenager who is too busy talking to another employee or texting on their cell-phone to even acknowledge me. That cash that I’m handing over is going toward that individual’s paycheck and he/she can’t even be bothered to notice that I exist.
Even worse than indifferent customer service is the downright bad customer service- I’ve written about those experiences before (Vegas, anybody?) but lately I’ve been lucky enough to have some really great customer service experiences, and I wanted to take a minute to tell you about them so that if you have the chance to patronize one of these businesses, you’ll consider these companies (remember, every time you spend a penny you’re either supporting, encouraging or voting in some way).
The first was when my boyfriend and I went on a cruise for spring break (one of the advantage to being an adult returning-student is that you can afford actual vacations when you get a break) and we took off to the Caribbean on Holland America Cruise Lines. Everything about the trip was amazing. The staff offered amazing (and personalized) customer service without ever seeming insincere, the ship was amazingly clean, the food was delicious. It was a perfect experience from the time we arrived on the dock to the (early) morning we left the ship.
Sure, we had some transportation issues and made some mistakes in our planning, but everything that we paid for from Holland America we got and then some. I can’t imagine choosing to travel with another cruise line without having some really compelling reasons because I had such a great experience with Holland America.
The next company that’s recently wowed me was Dunn Tire on Bridge Street in Dewitt. I purchased new tires from them shortly before the holidays. I got a flat last month. When I purchased my new tires, I paid an extra twenty bucks per tire to get lifetime service on them. I called Dunn when I noticed my flat. Ten minutes later a truck arrived to put my spare on for me. I took my car to Dunn, they checked out the tire and said it would take too long to fix it, and they knew I was on my way to work, so they just replaced it instead. In the process everyone I encountered was incredibly kind, polite and accommodating. Clearly I will never go anywhere else for anything tire related. And neither should you.
The final company is AT&T. Remember that cruise I went on? Well I added a service to my phone for that month so I could get a certain number of minutes (my mom’s birthday was that week and I wanted to be able to call her from the ship in the middle of the ocean) while on a cruise. It cost $35 and was supposed to last just for March. Trouble is, I found out when looking at my July bill that not only was I charged in July for the same service, but I’d been charged (and paid) in April, May and June as well.
So off to the AT&T store I went. Before the door had closed behind me, Kyle had introduced himself and asked what I needed. I explained my situation as he pulled up my account. Within minutes he’d credited my account for the amount I’d overpaid, canceled the service going forward and asked for my permission to check my minute usage as it appeared to him I may be overpaying for my monthly service. Two minutes later, he’d put me on a plan that would save me $25 a month, and I’d still come nowhere near using all the minutes AND he upgraded me so that all my calls to wireless phones (regardless of the carrier) are free.
I was in and out in ten minutes, had my issue resolved AND would be saving $25 a month? Well, who cares that Verizon has the iPhone? Who cares if they get whatever the next newest, coolest, most advanced gadget is? Why would I ever leave AT&T after getting that kind of service? It’s simple - I wouldn’t.
Okay, I’m done rambling. I’m just happy I finally have some great customer service experiences to talk about. And if you’d do me a favor, please consider patronizing Holland America, Dunn Tire and AT&T if you ever get the chance. These companies are getting it right, and this is one happy customer who will be with them for life!
5.25.2011
You are NOT so O.C.D.
I overuse words. I’m going to try to not do that in the interest of explaining my viewpoint as directly and succinctly as possible.
1. People who say “I’m so O.C.D.” who really don’t are idiots. Obsessive compulsive disorder is a mental disorder and therefore a noun. Not an adjective. Furthermore, if you’re not clinically diagnosed: shut up.
2. If I call you out on #1 and you respond with, “well, actually, I’m just really anal about my things,” be prepared for me to punch you in your stupid face. You like your bed made a certain way, I have a chemical imbalance in my brain that makes me physically unable to continue with the basics of life until I touch the “three o’clock” spot on all my doorknobs; these are NOT similar issues, so shut up.
3. You would never say “I’m so lung cancer,” because it’s offensive to people who actually have cancer. So shut up.
4. You would never tell a person in a wheelchair, “Just take a deep breath and walk,” so don’t look at me when I’m having a panic attack and say, “Just take a deep breath and don’t let it bother you.” No, instead- shut up.
5. I don’t know if you’re uncomfortable so you’re pretending to be amused, or if my anxiety is actually amusing you, but doing something that you KNOW is a trigger and will cause a reaction is like walking into a hospital and pinching someone’s oxygen tube. It’s cruel. It’s mean. It makes you an asshole, don’t do it. Shut up, instead.
I hope I haven’t offended you. But let’s be honest, if you’re offended it’s because you’re guilty of something I’ve pointed out here, and you probably offended me then so let’s consider ourselves even. And if you’re still offended, well? Shut up.
1. People who say “I’m so O.C.D.” who really don’t are idiots. Obsessive compulsive disorder is a mental disorder and therefore a noun. Not an adjective. Furthermore, if you’re not clinically diagnosed: shut up.
2. If I call you out on #1 and you respond with, “well, actually, I’m just really anal about my things,” be prepared for me to punch you in your stupid face. You like your bed made a certain way, I have a chemical imbalance in my brain that makes me physically unable to continue with the basics of life until I touch the “three o’clock” spot on all my doorknobs; these are NOT similar issues, so shut up.
3. You would never say “I’m so lung cancer,” because it’s offensive to people who actually have cancer. So shut up.
4. You would never tell a person in a wheelchair, “Just take a deep breath and walk,” so don’t look at me when I’m having a panic attack and say, “Just take a deep breath and don’t let it bother you.” No, instead- shut up.
5. I don’t know if you’re uncomfortable so you’re pretending to be amused, or if my anxiety is actually amusing you, but doing something that you KNOW is a trigger and will cause a reaction is like walking into a hospital and pinching someone’s oxygen tube. It’s cruel. It’s mean. It makes you an asshole, don’t do it. Shut up, instead.
I hope I haven’t offended you. But let’s be honest, if you’re offended it’s because you’re guilty of something I’ve pointed out here, and you probably offended me then so let’s consider ourselves even. And if you’re still offended, well? Shut up.
2.16.2011
2.13.2011
Bad Poetry
A few years back, when Ryan and I broke up, I wrote some really bad poetry. It was bad, but honest. So here it is again. I'm not sure why...
1.
I changed towels the day after you left,
I put the two beige towels away,
not in the laundry, I don't know why,
but they don't belong in the laundry.
I can't spin, rinse or repeat away what they are.
...what they were.
Now I have only one towel in the bathroom,
it's all I need now.
It's red.
Beautiful.
Passionate.
Deep,
Blood red.
2.
Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be,
it was only about you, it was never about me.
You let go of my hand so that you could run off and ahead,
you felt like you were trapped, but that's not what you said.
Your heart beats and pumps on empty, I know.
Don't pretend you're unsure, just do it: just go.
A new city, a new job, a new apartment, a new start
but you'll be disappointed to find it's the same empty, old heart.
1.
I changed towels the day after you left,
I put the two beige towels away,
not in the laundry, I don't know why,
but they don't belong in the laundry.
I can't spin, rinse or repeat away what they are.
...what they were.
Now I have only one towel in the bathroom,
it's all I need now.
It's red.
Beautiful.
Passionate.
Deep,
Blood red.
2.
Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be,
it was only about you, it was never about me.
You let go of my hand so that you could run off and ahead,
you felt like you were trapped, but that's not what you said.
Your heart beats and pumps on empty, I know.
Don't pretend you're unsure, just do it: just go.
A new city, a new job, a new apartment, a new start
but you'll be disappointed to find it's the same empty, old heart.
The Customer Is Always Right?
These are transcripts from calls I’d taken years ago at work. I found them today, and if you’ve ever worked in customer service, you’ll understand why I decided to blog them again.
CALL NUMBER ONE: Saturday Morning Cartoon
Me: Thank you for calling [Business Name Here]. My name is Jason, how can I help you today?
Caller: Is [employee’s name] there?
Me: No, I’m sorry. She doesn’t work on the weekends. May I give her a message for you on Monday?
Caller: Well, I’m trying to get a hold of her about my account.
Me: I’d be happy to take your name and number and have her call you back on Monday, or attempt to help you with your request myself.
Caller: No, I have to talk to [employee’s name], she’s not there?
Me: No, I’m sorry. She won’t be in again until Monday. But as I said, I’m more than happy to take a message.
Caller: Will she be in tomorrow at all?
Me: Well, tomorrow’s Sunday, so no. She’ll be back on Monday. She’s off all weekend.
Caller: So she won’t be in today at all?
Me: That’s correct.
Caller: So there’s no way I can talk to her before Monday?
Me: Certainly no way that I’m going to be able to facilitate. Can I leave a message for you?
Caller: Yes, can you tell her to call me back at [phone-number] before tomorrow [Sunday] evening?
Me: [giving up:] Sure.
CALL NUMBER TWO: A swimmingly good conversation.
Caller: What time is the pool open until today?
Me: Seven o’clock this evening.
Caller: Oh. Will I be able to go swimming at eight?
Me: No, I’m sorry, the pool closes at seven today.
Caller: Oh. You can’t swim after the pool closes?
Me: No. That’s what we mean by ‘closed’.
Caller: Does it open again tonight?
Me: No, in fact, the entire club closes at nine.
Caller: So I can’t swim between seven and nine?
Me: Not here you can’t. I’m sorry.
Caller: Oh. What time is the pool open tomorrow?
Me: From seven until seven.
Caller: Oh, that’ s not long.
Me: Well, sir, it’s twelve hours.
Caller: Can I swim at eight tomorrow evening?
Me: Not here you can’t.
Caller: Why not?
Me: Because the pool will be closed. It will close at seven again.
Caller: Oh. And you’re sure you can’t swim when the pool is closed?
CALL NUMBER THREE: The Fogetting Follies
Caller: What time are you open until tonight?
Me: Nine o’clock.
Caller: AM or PM?
Me: PM. You asked what time we’re open until tonight.
Caller: (laughing) Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, so nine o’clock.
Me: Yep.
Caller: Thanks.
[The caller hangs up. Two seconds later the phone rings again;]
Me: Thank you for calling-
Caller: [interrupting:] Yeah, what time did you say you close tonight?
Me: Nine.
Caller: PM?
Me: [sighing] Yes.
Caller: Is that just tonight, or every Saturday night?
Me: Every Saturday night, sir.
Caller: Are you ever open later?
CALL NUMBER ONE: Saturday Morning Cartoon
Me: Thank you for calling [Business Name Here]. My name is Jason, how can I help you today?
Caller: Is [employee’s name] there?
Me: No, I’m sorry. She doesn’t work on the weekends. May I give her a message for you on Monday?
Caller: Well, I’m trying to get a hold of her about my account.
Me: I’d be happy to take your name and number and have her call you back on Monday, or attempt to help you with your request myself.
Caller: No, I have to talk to [employee’s name], she’s not there?
Me: No, I’m sorry. She won’t be in again until Monday. But as I said, I’m more than happy to take a message.
Caller: Will she be in tomorrow at all?
Me: Well, tomorrow’s Sunday, so no. She’ll be back on Monday. She’s off all weekend.
Caller: So she won’t be in today at all?
Me: That’s correct.
Caller: So there’s no way I can talk to her before Monday?
Me: Certainly no way that I’m going to be able to facilitate. Can I leave a message for you?
Caller: Yes, can you tell her to call me back at [phone-number] before tomorrow [Sunday] evening?
Me: [giving up:] Sure.
CALL NUMBER TWO: A swimmingly good conversation.
Caller: What time is the pool open until today?
Me: Seven o’clock this evening.
Caller: Oh. Will I be able to go swimming at eight?
Me: No, I’m sorry, the pool closes at seven today.
Caller: Oh. You can’t swim after the pool closes?
Me: No. That’s what we mean by ‘closed’.
Caller: Does it open again tonight?
Me: No, in fact, the entire club closes at nine.
Caller: So I can’t swim between seven and nine?
Me: Not here you can’t. I’m sorry.
Caller: Oh. What time is the pool open tomorrow?
Me: From seven until seven.
Caller: Oh, that’ s not long.
Me: Well, sir, it’s twelve hours.
Caller: Can I swim at eight tomorrow evening?
Me: Not here you can’t.
Caller: Why not?
Me: Because the pool will be closed. It will close at seven again.
Caller: Oh. And you’re sure you can’t swim when the pool is closed?
CALL NUMBER THREE: The Fogetting Follies
Caller: What time are you open until tonight?
Me: Nine o’clock.
Caller: AM or PM?
Me: PM. You asked what time we’re open until tonight.
Caller: (laughing) Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, so nine o’clock.
Me: Yep.
Caller: Thanks.
[The caller hangs up. Two seconds later the phone rings again;]
Me: Thank you for calling-
Caller: [interrupting:] Yeah, what time did you say you close tonight?
Me: Nine.
Caller: PM?
Me: [sighing] Yes.
Caller: Is that just tonight, or every Saturday night?
Me: Every Saturday night, sir.
Caller: Are you ever open later?
Carry-On Baggage
The short woman clad in a poncho and sandals (despite the sub-zero temperatures) in front of me, upon hearing her grocery total, beings to dig through the large backpack she's set upon the conveyer belt looking, I assume, for her wallet. I look at the twenty-plus bags sitting in her cart and wonder why she waited and watched the obviously capable cashier scan each item, realizing she'd need to find a method of payment only after the total had been tallied, displayed and announced.
As she begin to search, with an obvious lack of urgency, I begin to wonder why this woman has to carry such a large backpack to Wegmans. Is she afraid she may have to camp out in the aisles between minute-rice and cans of tuna packed in water because they checkouts are just too far away, and she‘s grown tired while shopping? Maybe the bag is full of medical emergency supplies because she has an OCD that compels her to be prepared for possible traumas, although she has no formal medical training? Perhaps it’s her latest knitting project and she’s brought it with her in case of long lines. I decide that the camping supplies are the most likely scenario and return my attention to her scavenger-hunt for payment.
I'm relieved when she exclaims, "Ah-ha!" and pulls something from her backpack. My relief is short-lived though as I see her extract a wallet that is roughly two-thirds the size of my car's trunk. At this point, even the cashier has given up on the idea of being able to easily collect payment from this grocery store camper and is having a conversation about how long her badly she’s craving ice-cream with the cashier in the checkout lane next to ours. I half-expect our shopping camper to pull out an ice-cream scoop and thirty-six flavors to choose from.
It's not that I'm in a hurry and wishing she'd hurry up the transaction necessarily (although that would be nice), it's that because her large bag and it's contents (a tent that sleeps six to eight, a battery powered George Forman grill, three sleeping bags, the extra two in case of company and a lantern, I assume) is now sprawled out across the black, sticky conveyer belt. Of course, I'd decided I didn't need a cart and now my arms are starting to fall asleep as I cling to the sixteen items: if only I'd passed on the bread, I'd have qualified for the fifteen items and fewer lane which appears to moving along without issue, none of the people in that particular line carrying luggage with them. So now my sixteen items are creating a bizarre pattern of flesh-dents that will take hours to fade.
When the woman finally manages to locate her Wegman's card (really? I‘d hoped we were looking for a debit card to get this moving along already!), the cashier scans it, giving her a new total. This causes Miss Packs-a-Lot to begin the plainly painful process of deciding what tender type to make her payment with. I imagine this being the most difficult decision she's been required to make in some time (aside from which mountain survival amenities to carefully pack for this shopping expedition) because she goes from frantic-card-finder to deeply transcendent meditationalist with the seriousness of a surgeon attempting to construct an artificial aorta using only generic-brand Play-Dough.
After settling on cash, and accepting her change, the woman is yet unable to clear the aisle for the next customer (me), because now begins the process of inspecting each bill before being placed in her cash-trunk, then checking her quarters (I fully expect her to announce she needs only New Jersey to complete her collection) and then repacking her just-in-case-I-get-lost-in-the-mountains-when-I-go-to-the-largest-grocery-store-in-central-New-York bag.
After what seems to be at least a day and a half (I may have to start marking the passing of time by tracking the relationship of Brad and Angelina via the tabloids that line the aisle that I‘m afraid I may die in), she looks back and notices the ten people waiting in line behind her, as if discovering for the first time the store was open for business and not solely for her shopping/camping pleasure. “Sorry,” she says as she lifts her satchel from the belt before zipping the bag shut, causing the entire contents to spill across the belt, aisle and surrounding counties.
As the last of the feeling fades from my left arm, I remind myself to next time pack a camping bag of my own, in case I’m again stuck behind another shopper hiking her way across America, one supermarket at a time.
As she begin to search, with an obvious lack of urgency, I begin to wonder why this woman has to carry such a large backpack to Wegmans. Is she afraid she may have to camp out in the aisles between minute-rice and cans of tuna packed in water because they checkouts are just too far away, and she‘s grown tired while shopping? Maybe the bag is full of medical emergency supplies because she has an OCD that compels her to be prepared for possible traumas, although she has no formal medical training? Perhaps it’s her latest knitting project and she’s brought it with her in case of long lines. I decide that the camping supplies are the most likely scenario and return my attention to her scavenger-hunt for payment.
I'm relieved when she exclaims, "Ah-ha!" and pulls something from her backpack. My relief is short-lived though as I see her extract a wallet that is roughly two-thirds the size of my car's trunk. At this point, even the cashier has given up on the idea of being able to easily collect payment from this grocery store camper and is having a conversation about how long her badly she’s craving ice-cream with the cashier in the checkout lane next to ours. I half-expect our shopping camper to pull out an ice-cream scoop and thirty-six flavors to choose from.
It's not that I'm in a hurry and wishing she'd hurry up the transaction necessarily (although that would be nice), it's that because her large bag and it's contents (a tent that sleeps six to eight, a battery powered George Forman grill, three sleeping bags, the extra two in case of company and a lantern, I assume) is now sprawled out across the black, sticky conveyer belt. Of course, I'd decided I didn't need a cart and now my arms are starting to fall asleep as I cling to the sixteen items: if only I'd passed on the bread, I'd have qualified for the fifteen items and fewer lane which appears to moving along without issue, none of the people in that particular line carrying luggage with them. So now my sixteen items are creating a bizarre pattern of flesh-dents that will take hours to fade.
When the woman finally manages to locate her Wegman's card (really? I‘d hoped we were looking for a debit card to get this moving along already!), the cashier scans it, giving her a new total. This causes Miss Packs-a-Lot to begin the plainly painful process of deciding what tender type to make her payment with. I imagine this being the most difficult decision she's been required to make in some time (aside from which mountain survival amenities to carefully pack for this shopping expedition) because she goes from frantic-card-finder to deeply transcendent meditationalist with the seriousness of a surgeon attempting to construct an artificial aorta using only generic-brand Play-Dough.
After settling on cash, and accepting her change, the woman is yet unable to clear the aisle for the next customer (me), because now begins the process of inspecting each bill before being placed in her cash-trunk, then checking her quarters (I fully expect her to announce she needs only New Jersey to complete her collection) and then repacking her just-in-case-I-get-lost-in-the-mountains-when-I-go-to-the-largest-grocery-store-in-central-New-York bag.
After what seems to be at least a day and a half (I may have to start marking the passing of time by tracking the relationship of Brad and Angelina via the tabloids that line the aisle that I‘m afraid I may die in), she looks back and notices the ten people waiting in line behind her, as if discovering for the first time the store was open for business and not solely for her shopping/camping pleasure. “Sorry,” she says as she lifts her satchel from the belt before zipping the bag shut, causing the entire contents to spill across the belt, aisle and surrounding counties.
As the last of the feeling fades from my left arm, I remind myself to next time pack a camping bag of my own, in case I’m again stuck behind another shopper hiking her way across America, one supermarket at a time.
1.19.2011
My Letter to The Imperial Palace, Las Vegas
I was given this email address via the Imperial Palace Twitter account regarding a recent stay at the Imperial Palace in Las Vegas.
On Wednesday, January 12th my boyfriend, MT, checked in to the Imperial Palace which was booked using his Rewards Card. In that first night at the hotel, Matt was assigned to four different rooms and experienced several issues including: broken bed, broken door to balcony, room door that wouldn't lock and cleanliness issues.
After three rooms assignments, Matt asked to upgrade to a suite and paid the difference using his Discover Card. The cleanliness of the suite was also unacceptable and the fact that the suite had no actual shower wasn't communicated to him before the move. Matt chose to move back to a Luv Tub room and was told his card would therefore not be charged for the upgrade.
I arrived on Thursday, January 13th and was horrified to find that the room Matt was then assigned to had used soap in the shower, a toothpaste tube cap in the drain of the sink and trash on the floor beneath the sink. Additionally, the wallpaper was torn, the sheets were torn, and the towels frayed. I stopped by the desk on our way in from dinner to let them know about the soap and toothpaste cap. The woman working at the desk stared blankly at me and asked, "What do you want me to do about it?"
I immediately asked to speak to a manager. At the very least I would have expected something along the lines of "I'm sorry to hear that your room wasn't acceptable. Let me inform a manager of your situation and have someone from housekeeping stop by your room to take care of the problem." I don't even work in hospitality and I was still able to come up with a better response than "What do you want me to do about it?"
The manager that came to help us was a night manager named Kevin. Kevin was apologetic and took notes. I asked Kevin if we could use our Rewards to move to another property. Kevin said he would make calls for us and then leave a message on our phone letting us know if he was able to find anything.
We went back to the room to discover that the drain in the shower wasn't functioning. I called the desk. The phone rang for OVER FIVE MINUTES before anyone picked up. I asked for Kevin, he said he'd make note of the issue. That was the last we heard from Kevin (no message about him calling other properties on our behalf) and nobody to look at our drain.
Friday morning I went to the desk to find out what Kevin had discovered. Nothing. Cassandra was the manager on duty at the time. She got me a day pass to the gym for my troubles.
Saturday I finally found a housekeeping manager and brought her to my room to show her the soap and toothpaste cap, which had been reported on THURSDAY and still unattended to. I was able to accomplish on my own (and with no salary, mind you) what TWO MANAGERS were unable to accomplish for me.
On Sunday, we'd had enough. The staff was incredibly loud each morning hollering to eachother in the halls, we made our own arrangements to change hotels. At the desk we asked for a manager to check out and share our frustrations, and once again Cassandra came out to help us. Upon expressing our concerns to Cassandra, I was HORRIFIED by her response to my complaint about the drain in the tub. She said, "If you waited three days for someone to fix it, don't you think you should have come back to the desk?"
WHY would it be the guest's responsibility to follow up on an issue that had been reported to TWO SEPARATE MANAGERS? The fact that Cassandra had STILL NOT APOLOGIZED for our negative experience and furthermore, was indicating my frustrations were my own fault was the final straw.
But wait- it gets worse. We then discovered that the upgrade charge that was made on the Discover card on Wednesday night had still not been removed on Sunday, and we were charged an upgrade for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Cassandra then acted like she was doing us a HUGE favor by refunding the charges for a room we didn't even stay in.
Individually, these issues would be no big deal, but when you combine the room issues with the completely unacceptable customer service we recieved the result is a stay in Vegas that has left me incredibly angry as a consumer. I plan to use my presence on Twitter, Facebook and my popular blog (where I will repost this letter) to share my experience. I will also be contacting my ex, the Editor of Q Vegas Magazine, to share my exprience with him as well.
Sincerely Disappointed,
Jason Jaquays-Tarbox
On Wednesday, January 12th my boyfriend, MT, checked in to the Imperial Palace which was booked using his Rewards Card. In that first night at the hotel, Matt was assigned to four different rooms and experienced several issues including: broken bed, broken door to balcony, room door that wouldn't lock and cleanliness issues.
After three rooms assignments, Matt asked to upgrade to a suite and paid the difference using his Discover Card. The cleanliness of the suite was also unacceptable and the fact that the suite had no actual shower wasn't communicated to him before the move. Matt chose to move back to a Luv Tub room and was told his card would therefore not be charged for the upgrade.
I arrived on Thursday, January 13th and was horrified to find that the room Matt was then assigned to had used soap in the shower, a toothpaste tube cap in the drain of the sink and trash on the floor beneath the sink. Additionally, the wallpaper was torn, the sheets were torn, and the towels frayed. I stopped by the desk on our way in from dinner to let them know about the soap and toothpaste cap. The woman working at the desk stared blankly at me and asked, "What do you want me to do about it?"
I immediately asked to speak to a manager. At the very least I would have expected something along the lines of "I'm sorry to hear that your room wasn't acceptable. Let me inform a manager of your situation and have someone from housekeeping stop by your room to take care of the problem." I don't even work in hospitality and I was still able to come up with a better response than "What do you want me to do about it?"
The manager that came to help us was a night manager named Kevin. Kevin was apologetic and took notes. I asked Kevin if we could use our Rewards to move to another property. Kevin said he would make calls for us and then leave a message on our phone letting us know if he was able to find anything.
We went back to the room to discover that the drain in the shower wasn't functioning. I called the desk. The phone rang for OVER FIVE MINUTES before anyone picked up. I asked for Kevin, he said he'd make note of the issue. That was the last we heard from Kevin (no message about him calling other properties on our behalf) and nobody to look at our drain.
Friday morning I went to the desk to find out what Kevin had discovered. Nothing. Cassandra was the manager on duty at the time. She got me a day pass to the gym for my troubles.
Saturday I finally found a housekeeping manager and brought her to my room to show her the soap and toothpaste cap, which had been reported on THURSDAY and still unattended to. I was able to accomplish on my own (and with no salary, mind you) what TWO MANAGERS were unable to accomplish for me.
On Sunday, we'd had enough. The staff was incredibly loud each morning hollering to eachother in the halls, we made our own arrangements to change hotels. At the desk we asked for a manager to check out and share our frustrations, and once again Cassandra came out to help us. Upon expressing our concerns to Cassandra, I was HORRIFIED by her response to my complaint about the drain in the tub. She said, "If you waited three days for someone to fix it, don't you think you should have come back to the desk?"
WHY would it be the guest's responsibility to follow up on an issue that had been reported to TWO SEPARATE MANAGERS? The fact that Cassandra had STILL NOT APOLOGIZED for our negative experience and furthermore, was indicating my frustrations were my own fault was the final straw.
But wait- it gets worse. We then discovered that the upgrade charge that was made on the Discover card on Wednesday night had still not been removed on Sunday, and we were charged an upgrade for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Cassandra then acted like she was doing us a HUGE favor by refunding the charges for a room we didn't even stay in.
Individually, these issues would be no big deal, but when you combine the room issues with the completely unacceptable customer service we recieved the result is a stay in Vegas that has left me incredibly angry as a consumer. I plan to use my presence on Twitter, Facebook and my popular blog (where I will repost this letter) to share my experience. I will also be contacting my ex, the Editor of Q Vegas Magazine, to share my exprience with him as well.
Sincerely Disappointed,
Jason Jaquays-Tarbox
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