Why indeed?

Several of my recent travel experiences have left me asking that very question. I have come to the conclusion that, in much of today’s hospitality industry, everything is wonderful, right up until something goes wrong.

Then, suddenly, you are lucky if they act like they know you at all.

Let me explain.

Kansas City: “I Have Some Good News!”

Brett and I, along with another couple, decided to spend a weekend in Kansas City. I know, I hear you.

We booked a very nice hotel and even splurged on a room on the concierge floor. This wasn’t supposed to be roughing it.

When we arrived, the other couple checked in without a problem. Our reservation, however, had apparently vanished.

I pulled up the confirmation email and gave the desk clerk the confirmation number. Still nothing.

After nearly 30 minutes, the clerk disappeared into the mysterious room behind the front desk. I have spent enough time in hotels to wonder: What exactly do they do back there?

Several minutes later, he emerged and announced enthusiastically, “I have some good news!”

Wonderful! I assumed he had found the reservation and we could finally check in.

Nope.

“The reservation was canceled.”

Excuse me?

Good news for whom?

They couldn’t tell me when it had been canceled. They couldn’t tell me who canceled it. They couldn’t explain why it was canceled. But they were quite certain it was canceled.

Fine. We were standing in the hotel lobby. Could they simply book us another room?

“Nope. We’re completely full.”

The four of us retreated to the lobby to figure out what to do next. On a whim, I pulled out my phone and checked the hotel’s own website.

Guess what?

Rooms were available.

Not only were rooms available, the very type of room we had originally reserved was available.

So I booked it online.

Within minutes, the confirmation arrived in my email. I walked back to the same front desk, presented my brand-new reservation and checked into the hotel that had just told me it had no rooms.

Hospitality!

I was determined not to let it ruin our weekend, although the hotel offered plenty of additional opportunities. Only one elevator was working, which meant waits of 15 minutes or more every time we wanted to go up or down.

Hospitality, my a$$.

Galveston: The Forgotten Instructions

Next up: VRBO.

Brett and I were heading to Galveston for a weekend getaway with another couple. We rented a two-bedroom, two-bath condo overlooking the Gulf.

Everything seemed fine until I realized we were almost on the island and had received absolutely no check-in information from the host.

From the photos, I could tell the condo was at the San Luis, but I didn’t know the unit number. I didn’t know where to park. I didn’t know how to get into the building or the condo.

Basically, I knew where our vacation was. I just didn’t know how to get inside it.

We arrived and found ourselves standing behind the property waiting for a response.

About an hour later, the host finally emailed the information.

They apologized and explained that they had intended to send it earlier in the day but had forgotten.

Remember that phrase. We’ll be hearing it again.

The condo looked like the photos, but the photos apparently had the advantage of not showing the dirt, wear and mold. The sliding door to the patio also seemed determined to remain permanently closed.

Eventually, I braced my foot against the couch and pulled until I managed to get it open.

I notified the host about the problems.

I’m still waiting for a response.

Mexico: No Room at the Inn, Except Online

Then there was our family trip to an all-inclusive resort in Puerto Vallarta. There were about a dozen people in our group.

Brett and I arrived around noon. Check-in was at 3:00, so I wasn’t expecting the room to be ready immediately.

They told us it would probably be about an hour.

Two hours later: not ready.

“No problem. It will definitely be ready at 3:00.”

At 3:00: not ready.

At 4:00: not ready.

At 5:00: still not ready.

By then, my patience had officially checked out even if I hadn’t.

I found a manager, who disappeared into, you guessed it, the mysterious room behind the desk.

Seriously. What do they do back there?

A few minutes later, he returned and magically assigned us a room.

As compensation for the inconvenience, he generously offered us an additional two hours at checkout.

Wow.

I was overwhelmed.

Probably not for the reason he intended.

Then the situation became much more serious.

This was the trip when violence erupted in Puerto Vallarta, creating uncertainty and concern throughout the area. The airport temporarily shut down, and everyone at the resort, guests and employees alike, was understandably anxious. Under the circumstances, I thought people were remarkably patient and understanding about disruptions in service.

Like everyone else, we began wondering what would happen if flights had not resumed by the time we were scheduled to leave.

I went to the front desk and asked if we could extend our stay by a few days if necessary.

“No. We’re full.”

They told me we could come back on the morning we were scheduled to check out and ask whether anything had opened up.

That made absolutely no sense to me. With the uncertainty surrounding travel, surely they were receiving cancellations. Why wouldn’t they allow existing guests to reserve additional nights?

I even spoke with a manager.

Same answer.

So I went back to the room, opened the resort’s website and, stop me if you’ve heard this before, booked the rooms online.

Apparently, the resort was completely full unless you happened to have access to the internet.

Fortunately, we didn’t need the additional nights and canceled them.

But really?

Missouri: “We Forgot”

Finally, there was a family trip to Missouri.

We rented another VRBO. Once we arrived, we discovered the description of the house had been somewhat…creative.

There was one actual bedroom and a loft accessed by a ladder that looked like it had been designed as part of an obstacle course. The other “sleeping areas” were apparently supposed to be enclosed using temporary curtains.

It took us a while just to figure that out, and then to find the curtains.

But before we could discover any of this, we first had to get into the house.

I had been driving about 11 hours and, while on the road, was trying to find the address and check-in instructions. I eventually located the house, but we still had no idea how to enter it.

So there we were, standing on the front porch with our luggage, waiting for the host to respond.

Eventually, they did.

They sent the instructions and apologized for not sending them earlier.

Their explanation?

They had intended to send them earlier in the day…

but forgot.

Sound familiar?

The house wasn’t equipped exactly as advertised, either, but we adjusted, made the best of it and enjoyed our family trip.

And perhaps that is the common thread running through all these stories.

We adjusted.

So, Where Is the Hospitality?

Travel doesn’t always go according to plan. I understand that.

Reservations get lost. Rooms aren’t ready. Things break. Employees make mistakes. Hosts forget things. Technology fails. None of that, by itself, ruins a trip.

What fascinates me is what happens after something goes wrong.

In nearly every one of these experiences, the customer seemed to become the problem.

Instead of someone saying, “We made a mistake. Let’s see how we can fix it,” the response was often a shrug, a policy or a declaration that nothing could be done.

“No rooms available.”

Except there were.

“We can’t extend your stay.”

Except I could.

“We forgot to send the instructions.”

Twice.

That is what I find so strange about the modern hospitality industry.

Hospitality isn’t about handing someone a room key, providing clean towels or processing a reservation. Those are transactions.

Hospitality is how you treat people when the transaction doesn’t go according to plan.

It is recognizing that the tired couple standing at your desk isn’t an inconvenience. The family waiting outside a rental property isn’t the problem. The traveler asking for help during an emergency isn’t trying to make your day more difficult.

They are your guests.

And sometimes hospitality requires something that no computer reservation system, corporate policy manual or automated email can provide:

A human being willing to say, “Let me see what I can do.”

Maybe that is what seems to be disappearing.

Because after my recent experiences, I keep coming back to the same question:

Why do they still call it the Hospitality Industry?