If you’re a frequent traveler, this scenario might be all too familiar. It’s late. You stagger to the front desk of your hotel, bruised and battered by the horrors of modern travel, only to be welcomed with the words, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have a room for you.”

“What?” you cry. “But I have a confirmation … here! … It says my reservation is guaranteed!”

Silly you. Don’t you know that the credit card number you provide at time of reservation guarantees one thing only: that the hotel will charge you if you don’t show up?

As hotel occupancies climb, relocates are making a comeback. As a long-time hotelier, I have the dubious distinction of having performed scores of relocates in my career, and I know how inconvenient and frustrating it can be for travelers.

But you’re not as helpless as you might feel. While there’s no surefire way to avoid being relocated, there are ways to fight the odds – and, if your number is irrevocably up, to negotiate the most favorable terms.

What exactly is a relocate? Also known as walking or bumping, relocates occur when a hotel has more reservations than rooms. Like airlines, hotels overbook in order to maximize occupancy, banking on cancellations and no-shows, and sometimes we get caught with our pants down. Unlike airlines, however, we don’t announce overbookings to a holding lounge full of travelers or ask for volunteers. We handle relocates discreetly, swiftly dispatching you to another hotel while giving you little choice in the matter.

The early bird catches the room. Hotels typically assign rooms as guests arrive, so our options decrease as the day progresses. If we’re sold out and you arrive late, you’re vulnerable. But then you also might be upgraded, since suites are often the last to go. Not a gambler? Call the hotel in advance to say you’ll be arriving late and ask them to hold your room. And always do your homework; if a hotel is a chronic walker, you’ll read about it in online reviews.

You are what you pay. I didn’t tell you this, but the higher your rate, the more preferential your treatment. Reserve the presidential suite, and we won’t dare walk you. Book through an online travel company, which keeps up to 30% of your rate, and you’re vulnerable. Book through an opaque website, and you’re a walking target. It’s not that we don’t love you, we just love our more loyal and lucrative guests better.

Are you on the no-walk list? The truth is, sometimes we do have a room – just not for you. Depending on the hotel, certain guests never get walked, like loyalty club members, frequent guests, corporate clients, VIPs and tattooed bikers. If you don’t qualify, you can always try pleading your case; in cases of undue hardship rooms can miraculously materialize. You can also try arriving in a wedding dress or clutching a heart monitor. But if there’s no room, there’s no room.

Trade up, not down. The good news is the hotel will pay for your room that night, plus taxi fare and a long distance call. But here’s a dirty little secret: hotels prefer to relocate to a slightly inferior hotel, hoping you’ll come running back into our arms on your next visit. You have the right to insist on a comparable hotel. Hell, we’re paying, so why not ask for the Four Seasons? But if the city is full, you might well be cozying up with the farm animals at the Barnyard Inn.

You’ll never believe this, but … It’s hard to admit we had the gall to sell your room to someone else, so some employees invent little white lies like burst water pipes, electrical problems or guests who refused to check out. A truly unscrupulous hotel might try to foist the blame on you, claiming your reservation was mysteriously canceled or booked for this date five years ago. Always get an email confirmation at time of reservation, check it for accuracy, and bring it with you. If you mixed up the month and year, that’s your bad, not ours.

Now don’t get all huffy. Yes, relocating is evil, unforgiveable really, and hotels do it largely out of greed and incompetence. But it’s not a conspiracy, and we’re not singling you out for having cheap luggage or travel hair. Mostly it’s a numbers game. Chances are the long-suffering graveyard agent who relocates you had nothing to do with overbooking the hotel. So cut him some slack, be firm but pleasant, and resist the theatrics and hostage-takings. If you need to vent, save it for the general manager.

For relocate stories from OPUS, click here and here.

Do you have a relocate story? Share it here. 

A recent story about a hotel housekeeper in Miami who found in $6,000 in cash in a guestroom got me to thinking about items guests leave behind. As travelers, we’ve all experienced that sensation upon arriving at the airport that our luggage feels pleasantly lighter – only to realize we left half our belongings in the closet of our hotel room.

Curious, I decided to pay a visit to OPUS hotel’s housekeeping department to see what was kicking around Lost and Found. There I found boxes and boxes of guest belongings. Most of it looked like junk abandoned by guests, but hotels undertake too many frantic dumpster dives to make assumptions about what guests may or may not deem as valuable.

While I was perusing the log book, a group of housekeeping staff filed in after their shift, and one of them deposited an item on the desk before me.

“A bra?” I asked, staring. It was one big bra.

“Happens all the time,” said Alejandro, one of the housemen.

“Usually it’s men’s underwear,” said Mila, making a face.

I asked what other things guests leave behind. They listed off everything from the trivial – toiletries, toothbrushes, CDs, adapters – to the treasured – jewelry, laptops, iPods, passports, USB sticks, clothing and prescriptions. One guest left behind an $800 bottle of Crystal champagne. It might have made for a fun staff party had he not picked it up – two years later.

“Socks,” said Alejandro. “Lots of socks.” Next time you can’t find a sock, don’t blame the washing machine. You probably left it in your hotel room.

“Cell phone chargers!” Marifel exclaimed, leading me to a box teeming with every imaginable type of charger.

“Everything but money,” Maria said, with a sigh.

Sex toys are another popular leave-behind, probably because they’re hidden out of sight, in a drawer or under the bed. “Do guests ever call looking for them?” I asked.

“Oh no, never. They’re too embarrassed.”

We don’t call them either. Leaving a message with their secretary might be a bit awkward.

If items left behind in hotel rooms are an indication of what travelers are up to on the road, partners and spouses have good reason to be nervous. Recorded in the log book I found a whip, pornographic material, a nurse’s uniform, a wig, a stethoscope and narcotics. Then again, I also found business books, language tapes and a Bible.

Years ago, when I worked on the front desk of a hotel, a guest left behind a blow-up doll. The doll hung around the back office for weeks and became like an employee, sitting in on meetings spread-eagle in her chair, her red lips shaped into a permanent look of surprise. One day she just disappeared. I think she grew tired of all the jokes.

A few years ago at Opus, I found a bag of marijuana stashed on a ledge in the stairwell. I alerted the operations manager, Nicholas, and while passing a spliff back and – er, I mean after flushing it – we speculated on which staff member it belonged to. Recently, it occurred to me it might have belonged to a guest, after I read an interview with rocker Ryan Adams. Speaking about the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood, he said, “I used to hide my pot in the ventilator shaft for every time I returned, with a few Xanax for coming down from the boozing. It was always there, as they never dusted the place. Not so anymore.” Hotels are always happy to hold on to extra baggage for frequent guests, but our hospitality ends with illegal activities.

Speaking of which, a friend of mine used to manage a swank hotel in Los Angeles, and one day a female guest came to the front desk to ask for access to another guest’s in-room safe. When she was informed that only the registered guest could be granted access, she gave a sinister retort: “Oh, he won’t ever be back!” The next day, management opened the safe and found $200,000 in cash stuffed inside. They notified the police, who confiscated it – to the disappointment of the housekeeper, no doubt. Typically, hotels hold on to an item for three to six months and then dispose of it, donate it to charity, or allow employees to keep it.

What should you do if you leave something behind in a hotel? Call Lost and Found immediately, and pray that it hasn’t been sold on the black market – a new revenue stream for hotels during the recession (kidding). If they can’t find it, be patient and persistent; sometimes items are temporarily misplaced, but eventually they should show up. The hotel will arrange to mail it back to you.

As for that housekeeper in Miami, she turned the money in, and people were so taken by her honesty and dire personal circumstances that she received donations amounting to far more than the money she found. Let her story be a friendly reminder: If you’re going to leave anything behind in a hotel room, a modest tip for the room attendant will be most gratefully received.

Have you lost or found something unusual in a hotel room? Tell us here.

My comments prompted a minor outcry, though notably not from hotel managers but from third-party web marketers, who were quick to point out the benefits of blogs to search engine optimization. Last year, a Hubspot survey reported that small businesses with a blog receive 55% more website traffic and 97% more inbound links than small businesses without a blog.

If anyone understands the value of a hotel blog, I do. It was four years ago this month that I started this blog as the General Manager’s Blog, a first in the industry. Our then-director of marketing, Katrina, came up with the idea, and I’m still mad at her. Nevertheless, I tackled my first posts with zeal, writing in a breezy style that suggested I had banged them out between check-ins. In fact, a great deal of effort went into making them sound effortless.

From the outset I promised to give an insider’s look at the hotel business and to “leave out the boring parts”. As the manager of an independent contemporary hotel, I could get away with being a bit edgy; writing things other hotel managers think but don’t dare say. I covered taboo subjects like relocating, construction and guest complaints. I debated the pros and cons of offering sex toys in the mini-bar. And I vented about a challenging weekend in which a guest received a stream of “nieces” to his room and a drag queen gave her room a makeover … with her makeup.

In many ways, hotels are an ideal platform for a blog. We welcome a stream of new guests each day, and they bring with them unique stories, inspiration and, occasionally, drama. But while reporting on guest antics might be great for attracting blog traffic, it can also frighten travelers away. So I’ve had to walk a fine line, providing enough intrigue to appeal to readers while respecting the privacy of guests. With such a narrow scope, I’ve often found myself staring hopelessly at a blank computer screen, feeling increasingly anxious about the other duties I’m neglecting. It’s a lot more fun to swill cocktails with clients in the hotel lounge.

Given the challenges, it’s no surprise that blogs written by hoteliers are still quite rare. Some of the best I’ve seen are published like an online magazine, rich in imagery and content, with enviable resources backing them. Others are simpler, maintained by the owner or manager of a small hotel or inn, with compelling, quirky stories and an intensely personal feel.

Recently, I came across a new blog for a bed-and-breakfast whose author promised to post something every day so as “not to disappoint” her readers. All I could think was good luck. It’s only a matter of time before she resorts to writing about kittens, what she had for breakfast, and why beige is her favourite colour. I try to avoid this fate by blogging infrequently and writing long posts, exploring topics from various angles.

In this age of social media, a blog provides a platform for hotels to engage with guests. But readers rarely leave comments, and I’m often convinced that no one is listening—and that if anyone is listening, they think I’m a moron. Then, just as I’m sinking into total despair, I’ll receive a gushing comment about how great my blog is … only to realize it’s spam from a timeshare in Goa. Travelers tend to be more active in sharing content on Facebook, Twitter and, of course, TripAdvisor and other online travel communities.

What readers probably don’t know about the OPUS blog is that it’s frequently quoted and republished across the web, has been lauded by publications from Condé Nast Traveler to USA Today, and is followed by travelers, hotel employees and students around the world.

At the end of 2007, I left OPUS to focus on writing. My successor as general manager, Nicholas, a clever fellow, opted to delegate the blog to Katrina. Suddenly Katrina wasn’t so thrilled about her brilliant idea. Rechristening it OPUS Hotels’ Blog, she explored meaningful issues like hotels and the environment and healthful drinking. Needless to say, readership plummeted. (Okay, I’m kidding.) In 2008, I returned as interim resident manager of OPUS Montreal and have been maintaining the blog since, along with working on various other projects.

There’s no question, a blog can be great for SEO and can give personality to a hotel, helping to distinguish it from other hotels. If a property has the skills and commitment for the long haul, I say go for it; we need more hoteliers in the blogosphere. If not, the hotel’s scarce resources might be better channeled elsewhere.

Why does OPUS persist? The blog has become a part of our culture, drawing people to our site who might not otherwise find us and giving our guests a flavour of what to expect before they arrive. Looking ahead, we plan to integrate it further into our marketing and social media activities and to bring back some of its original edge. Our marketing director, Chella, tells me I’ve softened of late. Apparently, I was getting dangerously close to writing about kittens.

OPUS Hotels’ Top Ten Most Popular Blog Posts:

1. So You Want to Work in Hotels
2. Is Green the New Black?
3. Hotels in Space
4. Deconstructing the Hotel Mini-Bar
5. SOS from Island Paradise
6. The Tyranny of the Mistreated Traveler
7. What to Do When Things Go Wrong in a Hotel
8. Online Travel Reviewers to Watch Out For
9. Behind the Scenes Before the Winter Olympics
10. The Day the Earth Stood Still

Do you have a favourite travel or hotel blog or blogging tips of your own? Share them here.

This weekend the sales teams of Opus Hotels in Montreal and Vancouver convened in Vancouver for the first national sales meeting, which I had the privilege of facilitating. It was a formidable group, ranging from grizzled veterans like Vancouver-based sales manager Phil Renaud and general manager Nicholas Gandossi to fresh-faced newbies like Montreal-based sales managers Marc Barmash and Yves Pouliot. Also present were John deC. Evans, Tom Johnston, and Katherine Evans from the ownership group.

Topics included the evolution of the Opus brand, from the opening of Opus Hotel Vancouver in 2002, then considered a risky and audacious undertaking, to the property being named one of the World’s Best 100 Hotels by readers of Condé Nast Traveler in 2005, and on to the opening of Opus Hotel Montreal in 2007. We also discussed the importance of our vibrant restaurant and lounge scene as a key differentiator to other hotels, of our vision of providing the best boutique experience, and of our corporate values of respect, empowerment and innovation.

During an over-caffeinated branding discussion, it was suggested that should aspire to be the Lady Gaga of hotels. Some hotels have magazine themes, others art themes, why not a music artist theme? But then the caffeine wore off and we decided that, as much as we admire the reigning queen of glam rock (who has been spotted at both Opus properties), a better analogy was presented by guest speaker Jake Wetzel.

Over lunch, Wetzel (pictured above with the sales team, back row centre), a two-time Olympic medalist in rowing (silver in 2004 and gold in 2008), talked about teamwork and the importance of collaboration and playing to strengths. “No one deserves to be the best,” he told us, “you earn it.” Huh? So much for my afternoon presentation. Jake’s account of his athletic triumphs left us feeling humbled and inspired, and contributed to a spirited final exercise in which groups were assigned the task of increasing revenues by 20% in three months. No sweat.  

That night, we got to let loose and enjoy the summer-like weather over a barbecue in owner John Evans’ Point Grey home. Afterward, the Vancouver group reinforced its city’s sedate reputation by retiring early, whereas the Montreal group reinforced its reputation for joie de vivre by hitting the town. Now that’s what I call playing to strengths.

People often corner me at social functions to tell me about a problem they’ve had in a hotel. It doesn’t matter if I’ve never worked for the hotel or the incident occurred seventeen years ago; apparently, it’s my duty to listen. Sometimes I get the impression they think I’m somehow to blame.

I don’t mind, though. Bad service stories are fascinating. But often, as I hear the teller describe how the entire hotel staff conspired to ruin her stay, I see a different side. I see employees trying to help, and I see guests getting in the way. And I can’t help but think that if travelers had a bit more insight into how hotels worked, they’d have more time to enjoy their trips. And I’d have more fun at cocktail parties.

To that end, I thought I’d share a few insider tips on what to do when things go wrong in a hotel.  

Should you complain? Probably. Hotels need to know if you’re dissatisfied; it gives us a chance to turn things around for you and to fix things for future guests. But if you set expectations the hotel can’t meet, such as a harbor view in a prairie hotel, resist the temptation to shift the blame. The best way to avoid unpleasant surprises is to check out online reviews before you book. They’ll give you the real story, warts and all.

Talk to someone who can fix the problem. Yes, it feels good to unload on friends, colleagues and random strangers, but repetition heightens feelings of victimization, and chances are they’re not listening anyway. If the issue is minor, speak to the front desk. If it’s significant, ask for the duty manager. If tears and family heirlooms are involved, contact the general manager. If there’s blood, call 911.

No more drama. Hotels will go to great lengths to appease guests, but it’s kind of hard if you’re throwing furniture or lunging at our throat. Ladies are discouraged from standing sullenly aside while their husband complains, uttering little huffs to convey feelings about their husband (wimp) and the manager (moron). Gentlemen, no need to inform us of your net worth, shoe size or number of Twitter followers. By virtue of being dissatisfied, you’re important enough.

The maid didn’t steal your tiara. Hotel managers receive frequent calls from frantic guests who have misplaced a valuable item and immediately blame the nearest employee. Invariably, the item turns up. When a guest accused one of my staff members of stealing her iPod, I ran a key report and viewed security camera footage, then called her back to ask if she had checked with the stream of visitors to her room late that night. I didn’t hear back. Store your valuables in the safe.

An eye for an eye. In today’s economy, hotels aren’t particularly enthusiastic about doling out freebies if we’re not at fault. If we messed up, however, the matter should be resolved to your satisfaction. If you feel you deserve compensation, be candid—otherwise you might get a fruit basket. But be reasonable. If you want a large cash payout, you’d better be missing a limb. If you invent or exaggerate a story to get free stuff, you might get it, but you’ll probably end up in hell.  

Complain up. If the issue arises after checkout, send an email to the manager, who can copy it to other departments and, theoretically at least, resolve the matter quickly. If you’re not satisfied, forward the message to hotel ownership or the management company; these individuals loathe complaints and will get to the bottom of things fast. You can also dispute erroneous charges with your credit card company.

Bad things happen, even at the best hotels. The true test lies in how staff members respond. If an issue is expertly handled, a little praise goes a long way. At times it may seem otherwise, but we’re in this business because we love to please. Enjoy your stay.

Click here for the perspective of a really cranky traveler. I hope this guy never corners me at a cocktail party.

Given the sheer volume and related security concerns, suppliers to the Games will face a number of logistical challenges. Hotels have the added stress of being a twenty-four-hour operation. That means long days and lots of overtime for staff, who may be reluctant to waste what little downtime they have battling traffic to get home and back again.

Typically, when employees work back-to-back shifts hotels put them up in a guestroom for the night to ensure they’re perky for guests in the morning. But with visitors now fighting over scraps of private homes, campgrounds and RV parks, that won’t be an option during the Olympics. Nor will crashing at a friend’s place. Spare rooms, sofas and inflatable mattresses will be taken by out-of-town friends and relatives. Or paying strangers. The demand for accommodation has brought new meaning to the term “Go for the gold!” Employees who do make it home might discover that their enterprising spouse has rented out their side of the bed to a small Norwegian family.

Over dinner recently, I asked Opus Hotel Vancouver General Manager Nicholas Gandossi about his plans. “I’m having a cot installed in my office,” he tells me with characteristic good-nature. “That way I can avoid the commute.”

Across the table, his wife Nicola, who works at another downtown hotel, shoots him a look. “And what about our two kids at home, honey?” she asks.

Nicholas scratches his chin. “Oh. Right. The kids.”

There’s no room for a cot in Opus Executive Chef Don Letendre’s office. “I’ll be sleeping in the storage room,” he tells me. “It won’t be the first time.” And his family? “They’ll be heading to Palm Springs. That way I can work around-the-clock guilt-free.”

At a hotel I worked for in Toronto, when we overbooked and the city was full we used to roll cots into our meeting rooms and house guests there, supplying free alcohol and snacks and positioning it as a slumber party. Guests were not amused, but it was better than sleeping in the street. During the Games, however, virtually every inch of meeting space has been pre-reserved for Olympic-related functions.

Employees may have to settle for catching a few winks leaning against a wall or spooning with a side of beef in the walk-in cooler. “My team will be bringing in sleeping bags and using the housekeeping office as our sleeping quarters,” Opus Executive Housekeeper Julieta Laliberty informs me. “That way we can be available 24/7.” But given the stockpiles hotels will require to service guests and cater events, employees may find themselves jockeying for space with cases of Okanagan wines, smoked salmon and maple syrup.

Despite the challenges, there’s no question that hotel staff in Vancouver and Whistler are pumped and ready for the Games. To ease the pressure, temporary employees have been recruited and reinforcements are being sent from sister properties. At Opus, where offsite catering commitments alone will require an additional 150 employees, a group of bilingual staff from Opus Montreal will fly in to help out. With all the excitement around, sleep might only be a distraction.

Along with the cot, Nicholas has had a 52-inch plasma-screen television installed in his office. “Purely for professional reasons,” he assures me, mumbling something about video-conferencing. Right. I’ll bet that whenever Canada makes the finals in a sporting event, employees will be crawling out of storage rooms, closets and room service carts, and it’ll be standing-room only in the GM’s office.

Stay tuned for the January launch of the 2010 Winter Olympics edition of Opus Vancouver’s Lifestyle Concierge.

Ouch. The comment was a reference to my James Bond namesake and my secondary career as a mystery novelist, but nonetheless I was baffled by it, having no recollection of any guest encounter that would have provoked a public cry for my dismissal. Since the review was anonymous, we had no way of contacting the guest to find out what went wrong. Because it was a personal attack that offered little useful information, we asked TripAdvisor to remove it. But they refused, and it remains there today. Sometimes we hoteliers have to set aside our professionalism and say, “Whatever”.

In my last post I wrote about online travel reviews from a hotelier’s perspective. This time I take off my hotelier’s hat to poke some fun at online reviews from a traveler’s perspective.

When planning trips, I always check out amateur reviews for a refreshing, grassroots alternative to the salesy propaganda on hotel websites. Yet as these sites grow in popularity the process has become increasingly time-consuming and confusing. The playing field is now so cluttered, the reviews so contradictory and polarized, it’s hard to know who to believe anymore.

And whereas the vast majority of reviews are benevolent and seemingly authentic, a few reviewer types have emerged whose advice should be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism. In the spirit of parody, here are a few to watch out for.

The Self-Appointed Expert. This reviewer has posted scores of reviews, yet quite possibly has never left his computer room. An aspiring travel memoirist, he writes lengthy, flowery missives colored with acid-tongued remarks like, “To call this a fleabag hotel would be an insult to fleas and bags everywhere.” Although he positions himself as a martyr to the travel community, he wouldn’t object if a hotel offered him a free stay in exchange for a glowing review.

The Patron Saint of Hotels. This reviewer is so over-the-top in her praise either she’s never had a vacation before or she’s been into the sacred wine. She rates all services as excellent, including those the hotel doesn’t offer, and uses exalted phrases like “A hidden gem!”, “Glorious!” and “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven!” Because she insists on seeing the good in everyone, she often finds herself making excuses on behalf of a hotel, such as, “My niece fell down the elevator shaft, but I’m sure they’ve gotten that fixed.”

The Up-trader. Having scoured the internet for deals until he scored a five-star hotel at a two-star rate, this bargain-hunter now expects all other services to be equally discounted. He expresses moral outrage over charges for breakfast, telephone and the mini-bar, accusing the hotel of gouging. His comments are revealing: “$28 for parking!?! That’s how much I usually pay for a room! Rip OFF!”

The Down-trader. This high-flying business traveler used to spend lavishly on luxury hotels until the economic crisis forced a drastic reduction in her expense account. Now obliged to stay in budget properties, she lives in denial, complaining bitterly about the lack of a day spa, fur boutique and gourmet restaurant at her roadside motel.

The Uncle Bob. Like that dull relative who subjects you to endless vacation photos and anecdotes, this reviewer goes on and on but never manages to say anything helpful or interesting. “My room had a bed and a desk and a chair. Oh, and a painting of a landscape. Molly at the front desk—or was it Maggie? Well, whoever it was, gosh darn was she swell when we needed directions to the local IHOP…” Next.

The Extortionist. After a series of mishaps, all of which were his own fault, this traveler tried every trick in the book to weasel a comp stay from the hotel, and now resorts to posting a blistering online review. He rates everything as terrible, including things that were perfectly fine. His reviews read like ransom notes, with bad spelling and grammar, excess punctuation, and random capital letters: “This hOtel SUKCED!! RobeRto the Duty manger?%? was LaiMe…!!!!!”

The Shill. This reviewer writes in a style that sounds suspiciously like the hotel’s promo material, with phrases only marketing people use, like “nestled in the heart of vibrant old-town” and “well-appointed furnishings with dreamy Celestial Comfort™ beds”. Her review contrasts sharply with the other, not-so-generous reviews and is typically a one-off. Although she signs off with a cutesy pseudonym like “TravlinGrrrl”, she’s undoubtedly the hotel’s director of marketing.

The Forensic Examiner. This CSI enthusiast treats hotel rooms like a crime scene, posting reviews with gory photographic evidence of carpet stains, bathroom mold and bedbug bites. Even when his review is glowing, his photos make the room look cheap and squalid, particularly when personal items and family members are in the background.

The Corporate Saboteur. This reviewer is a hotel owner writing a nasty, bogus review of a competitor hotel in hopes of boosting his own property’s ratings. Telltale signs include anonymity and remarks like, “I finally checked outta that dump and went to the ABC HOTEL. Twenty bucks cheaper and free donuts! I’ll never stay anywhere else!”

As a rule I bypass extreme reviews—unless there are a lot, in which case I take heed. I also skip reviews with the word “lame”, the online word of choice for people with a chip their shoulder. I find the hotel’s overall ranking to be helpful, but it doesn’t always tell the real story. Pull up your home city on TripAdvisor. Do you agree with the top five hotels? There’s always at least one that raises an eyebrow.

Recognizing that not every reviewer has the interests of fellow travelers in mind, Expedia, Orbitz and Priceline restrict reviews to customers only, whereas anyone can post a review on TripAdvisor, Yelp, Yahoo and Travelocity. TripAdvisor has been known to post a warning to travelers if it questions the authenticity of reviews, but this practice has attracted a flurry of criticism in the blogosphere.

There’s no question, online reviews are a great resource, providing insight, humor and tried-and-true tips from the field. Yet travelers shouldn’t forget to consult the experts in print and online guidebooks, newspapers and magazines. If I find a lump on my throat, I’m heading to a doctor for treatment, not to some online quack who claims to be able to show me how to remove the lump from home.

We can all help increase the reliability of reviews by posting our own after our trips. Just remember to stick to the facts, play fair, and go easy on the punctuation. And try not to get too personal. It might not always seem evident, but hotel managers have feelings too.

When I last wrote a post about how to get a job in the hotel industry, the economy was booming and hotels were so desperate for staff they were stopping just short of dragging passersby off the street and slapping uniforms on them. These days, occupancy rates have tanked, room attendants are dozing on beds rather than making them, and it seems the only place to find job vacancies is in the obituaries.

Are job prospects that bleak? Absolutely not. Hotels are always in need of great people, but competition is fiercer than ever. Taking the time to understand the unique culture of the hotel industry will give you a leg up on other candidates. Here are a few insider tips to help prepare you for that elusive hotel interview.

Martyrs need only apply. What’s the quickest way to get an interview with a hotel? Highlight “love working graveyard shifts” on your cover letter. The quickest way to end an interview? Say you’re looking for something nine-to-five. Hotels are a 24-hour operation, and most entry-level positions involve shift work. Your best chance to get a foot in the door is to apply for a high-turnover position like room service attendant, busser, dishwasher, line cook or any graveyard position. Be specific, and be keen. Not like the young lady I interviewed who explained that graveyard shifts would give her time to work on her personal art projects.

Beware of the super-friendly people in suits. Your interviewer will smile and use your name frequently and will maintain eye contact for freakishly long periods of time. No, you’re not being recruited into a cult. These basic service standards are programmed into our being. Some of us really are that happy, others are gifted actors, others are heavily medicated. Don’t be lulled by that pleasant exterior; underneath is a hard-nosed interviewer who will assess your appearance, communication skills and attitude in three minutes flat. That’s as much time as you’ll have to impress our guests.

Perfection is something we strive for but never achieve. If your interviewer asks you to identify areas you’d like to improve, it’s a euphemism for weaknesses. This question strikes fear into the heart of candidates and can result in awkward silences and moronic replies. Relax, it’s okay not to be perfect. Provide an honest, thoughtful answer—unless you suffer from kleptomania or multiple personality disorder, which you might want to keep to yourself. A woman I interviewed confessed that her only weakness was perfectionism. I drew my own conclusion—lack of humility and self-delusion—and quickly wrapped up the interview.

Is something burning? Hotels are notoriously short on office space, so don’t be surprised if your interview is held in a bar, kitchen, ballroom or suite (though hopefully not in a bedroom). The activity around you—sound checks, shattering dishes, grease fires—will be distracting, but stay focused on your interviewer. If you’re in the restaurant and are offered a beverage, ask for water or coffee, not a margarita and the filet mignon. During a dinner interview for a high-ranking position, I watched a candidate knock back two martinis and a half-liter of wine. Now that was distracting.

Hotels are glamorous for guests, not employees. Some hotel managers prance around like wealthy aristocrats, but in reality most employees live shockingly modest lifestyles when not on an expense account. The only exception is doormen, whom own apartment complexes and small tropical islands. Should your interview take you into the back-of-house, the area not meant for the eyes of guests, brace yourself for a sharp contrast: general disarray, strange odors and employees who look like they’ve never seen the light of day. A career in hotels won’t make you wealthy, but it will make you rich in life experience.

Do you speak hotelese? Hotel employees are notorious for using jargon and acronyms to save time, sound smart and confuse guests into paying higher rates. If you don’t understand a word your interviewer is saying, don’t ask for an explanation—you’ll only be further confused. If you’re interviewing with the revenue manager, hire an interpreter. Do some advance research to understand the language of hotels and to determine whether you’re a good fit for the business. That way you’ll avoid the fate of the employee I hired who went for a break on his first day and never came back.

Interviewing with the general manager. If the GM is late, don’t fret. Given today’s tight labour budgets, he or she is probably making beds or baking breakfast muffins. He will wax poetic about how the hotel is a home-away-from-home for guests and employees are like a family, and will seem distracted and vaguely irritated. If you don’t get more than a few words in, don’t be disheartened. This guy has been dealing with people so long he’s got you figured out even before you open your mouth.

Managing post-interview anxiety disorder. You survived the interview, now what? More interviews. From two to five depending on the position and up to seventy-three for large chain hotels. Then silence. No, hoteliers don’t take glee in tormenting you. Every position is critical to our success, and the hiring process takes time. Don’t badger your interviewer with hourly calls or issue Twitter updates like “Just interviewed with uptight chick at ABC Hotel. Hope I got the job!” Send a handwritten thank-you note or email—no butterfly decals or smileys please—and continue with your search. It’s out of your hands now.

Yes, it’s a tough job market, but if you’re a good fit for the hotel business your resourcefulness and persistence will eventually pay off. Good luck.

For more tips on working in hotels click here.

Almost-perfect jobseekers are invited to check out Opus Hotel’s job board.

Travelers beware. A similar trend started about a decade ago, after word got out that boutique hotels were more profitable than other hotels. Suddenly hotels large and small were calling themselves boutique. But then a number of players tarnished the boutique reputation by emphasizing style over comfort and hiring mannequins for staff. When the big hotel chains got into the action, the boutique reputation suffered even further. Soon hotels couldn’t distance themselves quickly enough from the contemporary boutique moniker. A new buzzword was needed, and along came the next generation of boutique hotels: the lifestyle hotel.

What exactly is a lifestyle hotel? No one really knows. Essentially, a lifestyle hotel offers services and amenities that cater to a demographic with shared tastes, income levels, habits, attitudes and/or values. As a traveler, no longer are you obliged to leave your lifestyle preferences at home while on the road. If you can’t bear to put Muffy the teacup poodle in a kennel, you can bring her along, and your hotel might even offer special meals, a spa and Pilates classes for canines. Whether you’re a vegan environmentalist, a Crackberry-addicted techno-geek or a yoga-loving lesbian, there’s bound to be a lifestyle hotel for you. But don’t call it a theme hotel; themes are for amusement parks and kids. This is sophisticated stuff.

This time the chains are leading the charge. Starwood has Element and Aloft; Marriott has Edition; Hyatt has Andaz; Intercontinental has Indigo; the list goes on. In many ways lifestyle hotels are a great fit for the chains. Whereas boutique hotels tend to be high-priced, exclusive and urban, lifestyle hotels tend to be more reasonably priced, inclusive and accessible, located in secondary markets like small cities and suburbs.

The biggest challenge for the chains is fulfilling the promise of lifestyle hotels to keep current with traveler preferences. This can be exhausting—and expensive. Running a traditional hotel is far easier; you can maintain the same décor, employees and services for decades and pass them off as old-world charm. By nature the chains are slower to react because they have a lot of players to please. Let’s take a fictional chain, Guilty Pleasures Hotels & Resorts, for example, and say they’ve decided to roll out a signature scent. Hotel scents, a questionable trend in my mind—when I travel all I want to smell is lemon-scented disinfectant—are intended to round out the multi-sensory experience while subtly signaling to guests that they have arrived at their preferred hotel, they will never stay anywhere else, and they will spend lots of money.

Corporate office eventually settles on a scent that combines hints of jasmine, apple pie, whisky, opium and hundred-dollar bills. They dispatch samples to member properties and, of course, everyone hates it, particularly the manager of the Riyadh, Saudi Arabia property, where whisky is forbidden. He suggests oil as an alternative, which offends the manager of the chain’s eco resort in Montana. The debate goes on for months, until corporate office issues a decree that all hotels must use the scent or face expulsion. By then, however, travelers tastes have changed, and hotel scents have been found to be directly responsible for global warming.

When I joined Opus Hotel’s opening team in 2001, I came from a traditional hotel background and had no clue how to market a contemporary boutique hotel. Fortunately, by then a number of boutique hotels in other cities had gotten things terribly wrong, and I was able to learn from their mistakes. I wrote a manifesto for staff that specified the vocabulary we used to describe the hotel. Words like hip, sexy, cool and trendy were banned. If you use these words to describe yourself, you just aren’t.

Back then, all we had to work with were a few design boards, a chaotic construction site, and the ownership’s vision, which encompassed three key words: fresh, warm and sensual. From this we developed our mission statement and values and recruited a management team with classic luxury training who were entrepreneurial enough to adapt to a contemporary boutique environment. Today freshness, warmth and sensuality pervades every aspect of Opus, evoking not only the lifestyle preferences of our guests but the hotel’s soul.

Soul? Soul is an essential part of any hotel, and of lifestyle hotels in particular. It is everything abstract: personality, culture and spirit, that intangible feeling that prompts a guest to remark either “It just felt right” or “Something was missing.” Soul is often overlooked by hotel executives because we can’t see it, write it into an operating manual or charge a fee for it. Some hotels have all the right elements in place—beautiful design, quality amenities, competent service—but feel like the other definition of soul: the spirit of a dead person. Soul cannot be factory-produced or mass-marketed; more than anything it’s shaped by employees. By defining the hotel’s vision and values and using them to guide every decision, management develops the hotel’s culture and, over time, its soul evolves organically.

Will lifestyle hotels endure or be relegated to the garbage heap of overused and abused travel trends? Only time will tell. Regardless, given the stresses of our troubled economy and the headaches of modern travel, the timing couldn’t be better for a boom in hotels that contribute to travelers’ wellbeing by catering to lifestyle preferences.

Take the Lifestyle Concierge quiz and find out which of Opus Hotel’s five lifestyle-inspired décor schemes match your personality.

The good news is the gaping pit that’s been clogging Yaletown’s main artery and affecting business since 2006 has been filled, and Davie Street is now reopen. Recently, government officials announced that Canada Line will be open by Labour Day, three months ahead of schedule. Soon passengers will be whisked from Yaletown to the airport in 22 minutes and downtown in just three minutes. Before the thunder of bulldozers fades away, a little reflection is in order.

I’ll never forget that day in 2005 when a group of super-friendly people from a company called Ravco came to visit me at Opus Hotel and told me about plans for a high-speed rail project linking the airport to Richmond and Vancouver. Yaletown would have its own underground station, directly across the street from the hotel, and it would take three years to build. I was crestfallen. Since opening in 2002, Opus had ranked as one of the top hotels in the city in occupancy and guest satisfaction. Soon our clean, safe, highly-desirable heritage neighourhood would be overrun by bulldozers, dump trucks and butt-crack-baring construction workers. As the hotel’s general manager I did what any great leader would do: I locked myself in my office and had a good cry. Then I went online to look for a new job.

At Opus we were deeply concerned about the impacts of construction on our guests. Hotels, which run on the promise of comfort and rest, typically remain quiet about construction, hoping guests won’t notice the jack-hammering in the lobby. One of our employees suggested we try something radical: we tell guests the truth. The idea was immediately dismissed as preposterous. But it fit in with our organizational values of integrity and respect, and when no one came up with a better solution, we decided to give it a whirl. From that point forward callers were informed about construction activity at time of reservation. Rooms closest to construction were sold at a discount. A construction notice was posted on our website and in our confirmation letters, and a note was placed in rooms to explain the project.

It was a nail-biting risk. We were providing our guests a reason to stay elsewhere and our competitors a weapon to use against us. Many of our rooms didn’t face the construction site and activity was sporadic—why alarm all guests when only a few would be disturbed? Transparency threatened to only exacerbate the problem.

Yet to ignore construction can be far more damaging to a hotel. While a guest at a hotel in Atlanta, I endured drilling next door for three days before I complained. I was transferred to the duty manager’s line, and I left a message. I didn’t hear back. The next day a gift basket was delivered to my room, complete with a jar of Georgian peach salsa. There was no note or business card, so I wasn’t sure who it came from. Meanwhile, the drilling turned to jack-hammering. I left another message for the duty manager, requesting to change rooms. Again, no call back. That night, another gift arrived, a slab of chocolate that vaguely resembled the hotel’s logo. It had melted—much like my resolve to fight. I checked out the next day and, as much as I enjoyed the peach salsa, I won’t be staying there again.

Another misguided tactic is to make light of construction. Years ago, when I worked at the Westin Harbour Castle in Toronto, to make light of lobby renovations management decided to dress up two front desk employees each shift as construction workers. One day, upon reporting for duty I was handed a hardhat and an orange vest. “I don’t think so,” I said, handing them back—the hotel’s polyester uniform was humiliating enough. I was overruled. To my surprise, I found myself enjoying the construction worker role-play thing—until an irate guest stormed up to me and began ranting about not getting a harbour view. Partway through, he stopped, blinked, and said, “What the hell are you wearing?” The hats and vests were discontinued shortly thereafter.

As part of its efforts to soften the impact of construction, Canada Line formed a business liaison communications committee comprising of representatives from local businesses and various stakeholders. I sat on this committee for two years, and at the monthly meetings I was often either trembling with rage or nodding off in boredom. We small businesses felt powerless at times, a motley crew of Dr. Dooms and Debbie Downers pitted against a slick group of big-business executives, government and spin doctors. Sometimes I wondered if Canada Line officials fantasized about working in a totalitarian regime, where residents find out about an infrastructure project when a wrecking ball crashes through their home.

Despite assurances otherwise, construction cut off direct access to the hotel’s underground parkade, obliging our valets to drive several blocks to reach the side entrance to our own building. To ease the pressure we were granted access to an area in front of the hotel to stage cars. We parked luxury vehicles there, hoping to distract from the logo-plastered hording, the dirt and the portable toilets. Canada Line officials promised to support beleaguered businesses but patronized Opus only occasionally. One of the only contractors who did stay complained about construction noise and insisted on being moved to a quieter room.

Opus lost its share of business due to construction, and we had to work hard to appease some of our guests. Yet by being transparent we built a relationship of trust with our clientele, and our guest satisfaction ratings remained high throughout. Damage is inevitable in a project of this magnitude, and Yaletown has suffered more than its share, albeit less visibly so compared to the devastation along Cambie Street. Overall I think Canada Line and its stakeholders did an admirable job of working with Yaletown businesses. Even when delivering bad news they were so courteous it was impossible to stay angry—a tactic I suspect they appropriated from the hotel industry. The construction workers were respectful too, and I didn’t see a butt crack the entire time, which admittedly was a bit disappointing.

Despite the obvious challenges, Opus has been a supporter of Canada Line from the beginning. I would have even been more enthusiastic had the station been built elsewhere—like next to one of our competitor hotels. But few areas of downtown Vancouver have been completely spared the headaches of construction in the lead-up to the 2010 Olympics. On a trip to the waterfront two years ago, I was shocked by the loud, unrelenting “Ping!” resonating from the convention centre expansion site. I asked an employee of a nearby hotel how he could stand the noise. “Noise? What noise?” he said, his upper cheek twitching with each ping.

In December 2007, at the height of construction, I left my position as general manager of Opus and passed my hardhat to my successor, Nicholas Gandossi. Today, as we celebrate the reinstatement of Davie Street, we’re filled with gratitude to our guests for being so understanding and cool. We look forward to welcoming the new clientele that this efficient, environmentally-friendly transit system will carry to our doorstep, and we hope that Canada Line will fulfill its promise to leave Yaletown even better than when construction began.

See the modified version of this post published in The Vancouver Sun.