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Saturday, January 3, 2008
On being spoiled by the Marriott Corporation
I am blogging on location today, location being a king-size bed inside a pretty crummy room at a pretty crummy Ramada hotel in southern Minnesota. I took Kelly's friend Halie home to Keokuk, Iowa yesterday, then turned around and headed back home this morning. I came close to making it, too, but in the end, ice prevailed and I pulled off the highway, tired of the slipping and sliding, even at speeds below twenty miles-per-hour.
Checking into this hotel is a good reminder for me. I need to be reminded, on occasion, of just how sweet my life is. One of my life's sweetest sweetnesses is Marriott. The Referee travels as part of his job, and he is a member of Marriott's special "club" where members earn points that can be exchanged for hotel stays. For this reason, we almost never stay in a hotel that isn't one Marriott brand or another.
The difference between this Ramada in Albert Lea, MN and any Marriott is night and day. I'm going to do a quick event-by-event comparison of Marriott vs. Ramada. Understand that I am not comparing only high-end Marriott hotels with this very affordable Ramada. That wouldn't be fair. Last night, for example, I stayed at the Fairfield Inn in Keokuk, Iowa, which would be comparable in style and price, I would think. The service is the same with Marriott, whether it's a Fairfield in or a JW.
Event: The check-in
Ramada. I had no reservation when I skidded in this afternoon, obviously. After I just about bit it on my way in the door, I was ignored by the only lady at the desk, because she was busy on the phone making a reservation for a caller. I waited, happy to be inside, on dry ground. When she finished the call a good ten minutes later, she was super friendly to me, and offered the AAA rate when I forgot to ask for it. Nice!
Marriott. Every time I check into a Marriott, there are multiple people working the desk. If there are phone calls, callers are asked to hold while guests are helped. It's a basic customer service tenet that the face in front of you takes priority over the voice on the phone. When I check into a Marriott, they always call me by name, always personalize the conversation about the room ("I see The Referee prefers a king-size bed with foam pillows, and a room on an upper floor at the end of the hallway. Are those your preferences as well, Mrs. McDonough?"). They always ask how our trip was, what brings us to wherever we are, or if it's cold back in Minnesota, and they always smile.
Event: Room isn't quite satisfactory
Ramada. Even in the dim room lit with just two yellowish 40-watt bulbs, I could see that the little dining table had some lovely crusted-on food. No bogie, sez I to myself. Happens. Oh, well. I'm warm and dry. So when I went to the restaurant to order dinner to bring back to the room (I'm sick, too), because there is no room service, and no menu in the room to call ahead, I stopped at the desk and asked if I could borrow a rag with some cleaner. The gallant Derek at the front desk seemed annoyed by this request, and said that all he had at the desk was glass cleaner and paper towels. I said that'd work just great, thanks. He tore off some paper towels for me, and handed me a spray bottle. "I need you to bring that back when you're done" was his hospitable comment on the situation. In his defense, he was busy. This place is filled to the brim with youth hockey players, cub scouts, parents, and grumpy delayed travelers.
Marriott. Last time we checked into our favorite Miami Marriott, which is actually a Courtyard, so not even the expensive kind of Marriott, they upgraded us to the penthouse suite. Sweet! Sweet suite! Only the suite wasn't very sweet. It was damp and old, and the fatal flaw was that its ginormous balcony was accessible to anybody and everybody through a fire door in the hallway. Not okay, so I went back to the desk and sheepishly asked to be moved. "Of course, Mrs. McDonough! I'll have a bellman move your things." Which we declined, as we didn't mind moving ourselves. After we were settled in our new room, they sent up a pretty platter of fruit and cheese and some bottled water.
Event: Customer location
Ramada. I have a room in the middle of a hallway, between the above-mentioned scouts, hockey players, and parents. It is 6:27 p.m., so I am not minding the excited screaming and yelling. Yet. I am finding it odd that one dad keeps saying, "We have some in the vehicle. I'll go out to the vehicle and get them. Be right back. I'm getting something out of the vehicle." Who says 'vehicle?' Odd.
Marriott. Marriott pays attention to where their parties are, and tends to group them together to keep noise and high-activity sequestered in one part of the hotel. They would never put a woman, traveling alone and with a terrible cold, looking like she needs 17 straight hours of sleep, in a room in a hallway filled with screaming little heathens. I mean darling, energetic children.
Event: Dinner
Ramada. When you order a salad with vinaigrette dressing, they give you a little plastic cup of vinegar.
Marriott. When you order a salad with vinaigrette dressing, they toss the salad in vinaigrette dressing.
Event: Bed
Ramada. The bed in this room seems to have been occupied by a row of bowling balls for the past 15 years. Evidently, they remove the row of bowling balls prior to the arrival of the guest, because the mattress has about a thirty-degree valley in the middle. It's very boingy and bouncy. There are three nondescript pillows. The linens are stiff and scratchy, and covered with the traditional polyester/orlon/nylon/plastic semen-and-feces-soaked bedspread. Did you know hotels don't wash bedspreads every time? They don't. Every few months. Gross.
Marriott. Marriott beds are constructed from some sort of magic foam material so that there is no bounce. You can sleep with three or four people, and you never feel anybody move. SO comfy. I've considered buying one for home, because I think that would keep The Referee's sleep more consistent, you know? They also use nice, crisp linens with a decent thread count. Most importantly, they do not use a comforter. Instead, Marriott beds are topped with a down or down alternative blanket that gets washed every single time the room changes over.
I'm sure I'll think of many more things to compare, but it sounds like the kids have gone to the pool, so I'm going to get a little early sleep to fight this stupid dumb cold.
Oops. Spoke too soon. I just heard someone screech, "Daaaaaaaaad! Are my tennis shoes in the vehicle?" and now a herd of sugar-fueled antelope is galloping down the hall. Ooh. And now the sounds of a goat being sodomized. Or what I would imagine a goat being sodomized to sound like.
edit: It's now 3:28 a.m.
Event: heat
Ramada: Heater stops working, and it's winter. It's about 50 degrees in my room. Somebody from the front desk promises to bring me a space heater. They're not here yet. I am wearing all my clothes and am wrapped in all the linens, even the gross sperm bedspread.
Marriott: Heat/cooling is something you can take for granted.
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