I’m quite a fan of Hyatt hotels. Or at least they are the big chain hotel group that I remain faithful to.
It all started when the Grand Hyatt was the best hotel in Melbourne, then our relationship was cemented after a week long stay at the Park Hyatt in Tokyo. (you need a view of Mt Fuji from your window).
What won me over was the tray of coffee delivered each morning – at a time of our liking, with a hand written note detailing the day’s weather. The real skill was the waiter delivering the tray without once looking directly into the room.
The loyalty points from those two weeks in Japan allowed me room upgrades from standard room to club to suite on every stay since. I’ve done it in Shanghai, Melbourne and Auckland.
So if not a Hyatt fan, at least a Hyatt faithful.
But I think that we might be falling out of love.
Recently at the Grand Hyatt Melbourne the phone booking agent offered an upgrade to a refurbished suite.
But on arrival the upgrade was to a rather old, sad, tatty un-refurbished room. You know the kind – scratches on all the woodwork, ingrained stains in the draylon covered lounge.
Questions were asked, apologies were made, free champagne and strawberries, and an à la carte breakfast was comped. My ill feelings were assuaged.
However the denouement was not so pleasant. The final bill – you know – the ones that is put under the door – was entirely inaccurate – other than the bed-night charges.
We had been erroneously charged for drinks (“I’ll reverse that for you now”), charged for coffee during our comped breakfast; multiple charges for internet access on the same day etc etc. All that work done by the very accommodating assistant manager Ryan was all undone with one inaccurate piece of paper.
It wasn’t so much the mistake, but that slight air of distrust, like you really had drained the mini-bar and not admitted it – that rankled. Maybe its the Japanese grace I miss.