Summer Diaries

By Daniel Craig, National Post,
Wednesday, August 25, 2004

For the rest of the summer, we will be excerpting the daily diaries of creative Canadians. This week’s correspondent is a harried hotelier, director of sales and marketing at Vancouver’s upmarket Opus Hotel.

17 Hours of Smiles Everyone
If cocktails and dinner is not your idea of a pleasant evening, you probably work in the hotel industry. My non-hotel friends – and, after 12 years in the industry, there aren’t many – envy the time I spend wining and dining at Opus. But mostly it’s work.

Take today. It’s 6 p.m. and my day began at 5 a.m. (when else to write this journal?), yet it’s far from over. I’m hosting dinner for 11 American travel agents. Can I maintain this smile for five more hours?

We convene in Opus Bar. Champagne is served and we make our introductions. I am perky and playful, promising them (and myself) a fun filled night. Some look amused, others bored or irritated, but for the most part they seem like an enthusiastic bunch. We embark on a tour of the hotel, and I invite them to bring their Champagne.

Alcohol is a key ingredient in these affairs, though not always for me. Hotel salespeople do so much entertaining we manage to stay sober and slim only by nursing drinks, ordering salads, skipping desserts. Sometimes I ask the server in private to pour me non-alcoholic drinks. That way my client doesn’t think he’s drinking alone, and I can go to the gym afterwards.

The tour should take 15 minutes, but it takes 45. This is partly because they talk non-stop, but mostly because they are interested and involved. They lift up mattresses, run fingers along picture frames, inspect toilet seats, ask dozens of questions and speak their minds. Which is exactly why they are so good at what they do.

Travel agents are the ageing rock stars of the travel business. The years have dealt them many blows, from commission caps to online direct bookings to terrorism, resulting in layoffs, mergers and bankruptcies. Only the strongest have survived – the David Bowies and Tina Turners of the industry – through hard work, talent and constant reinvention. And things aren’t getting easier. Online travel distributors such as Expedia and Priceline (the Britney’s and Justin’s of the business) pose an even greater threat.

But whereas Expedia allows travellers to compare rates and features of a dozen hotels in Puerta Valley on a single page, Mary from Happy Times Travel has actually been there. She can dispense advice and negotiate deals like no Web site can. Younger travel agents have less experience but offer vitality and personal touch that can’t be found online either. Hotels recognize the value of travel agents, so we treat them like rock stars, wining and dining them, upgrading them to suites, extending their clients special rates and favours.

After the tour, over dinner in Elixir, the conversation is lively. One agent says she has survived 25 years in the business simply because of his customer service. Another, in business even longer, is too busy flirting with the young server to share her secrets. “I’m four pounds overweight,” announces one agent between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes. I wonder if perhaps she’s being a tad kind to herself, then realize she’s referring to the luggage restriction on tomorrow’s float plane. to Tofino, on Vancouver Island.

Those of us who’ve worked in hotels for years can smile when we’re tired, bored, daydreaming or furious. Sometimes I leave work with a smile on my face, like a part of a uniform I forgot to remove, grinning like a halfwit as I walk down the street. But usually our smiles are genuine. We work in a clean, safe opulent environment populated by friendly staff dedicated to comfort and satisfaction. How could we not be happy?
Tonight is an exception. It’s 17 hours into my day and my smile is fading. I’m so tired I’m cross eyed. But as host it’s my duty to stay till the bitter end. Looking around, I see that some look promisingly sleepy – one woman is nodding off into her chocolate mousse – whilst others look ready to go all night.

Finally, one by one, they stand up and say good night. I stumble home, free at last to think my own thoughts and scowl if I please. But not for long. At 8.30, I’m hosting the same group for breakfast.

Tomorrow: A night out on the town with Janet Jackson! Well, with her choreographer.

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