Since taking such initiative, my experiences at the hotel have become decidedly different.
Take this evening at airport arrivals, for example. As I emerged from Customs and into the crowd I was greeted by someone in a dark suit, holding a Grand Hyatt sign:
"Hello! Welcome back Mr Anthony!"
-- "Oh. Hello. Who are? - Umm. I didn't book a car did I?"
"Yes! I know pak! [Indonesian for 'Sir'] But we saw your name on the reservations! So we come to greet you!"
On arrival in the hotel as I emerged from the cab:
"Hello Mr Anthony! Please come this way!"
-- "Oh. Hello. Who are? - Umm. I have to check-in ..."
"No. Come this way. You check in at the room. You're Platinum now so no need with the desk."
He escorted me up the elevator, opened the door and simply handed me the key. No credit card swipe, no signed forms.
Now, everywhere I turn in this joint, people know my name. That's what happens when you bypass the Duty Manager and lodge your complaint directly with the Global CEO. Or as in my case, copy and paste it to the Global Chairman as well.
Even the cleaners know me by name. They give me a cheery "Hello pak Anthony" in the hallways in the morning.
As I pass all these smiling faces I can't help but imagine a photocopy of my passport on the staff notice board. There are pins in my eyes and a hastily-drawn moustache. I wonder why they chose a red pen for the moustache, and if the hole near my nostril was deliberate or a slip of the nib.
This is not how I wanted things to end at all. I didn't do anything wrong.
I simply asked them to cook my $35 steak with $35 worth of skill.
I just wanted my breakfast coffee refilled in less than 10 mins.
At best, I hoped they would identify and remove the most rancid grapes from my complimentary fruit basket before dumping it on the side table next next to the telly.
The fruit is a real life example from last night. There is nothing quite like the shock of bad fruit. It gets me every time. I start chewing and then come to a sudden realisation that things aren't right. Shock is the right word. A bruised apple or a soft grape can be quite mortifying. It's the same effect as when a baby eats dirt - everything goes in quite well, with chocolate expectations, until the baby suddenly realises that whatever went in is not so delicious. The face suddenly drops and the eyes tremble as the tongue frantically pushes its contents back out.
Back to the Grand Hyatt.
Indonesians are naturally friendly, especially in service situations. The Hyatt fuck-ups were actually an exception to the rule but regardless, I now miss them.
Service fuck-ups are far easier to handle than the hell they're putting me though.
My skilful complaining has resulted in the whole hotel turning up its service a few diabetes-inducing, sycophantic notches. But I didn't wanna be a contender and I didn't wanna be somebody, so it's quite painful.
Everyone knows who I am. Everyone. This must be what it's like to be famous. All eyes are on you, all the time. No wonder Angelina Jolie buys her babies from Africa because in an American orphanage, they'd all be staring at her and she'd have to pretend she was buying it for a friend.
I now need to recover the tatters of my reputation from this godforsaken smiling palace ... I need to give the staff something else to scribble onto my photocopied passport image. Maybe I could order a whore up to my room?
Actually, even better:
"Hello! Operator speaking! How are you this evening Mr Anthony?"
-- "Good thanks. Could I please book a wake-up call?"
"Certainly Mr Anthony what time would you like it for, sir?"
"-- "6:30"
"6:30 in the morning Mr Anthony? Would you like a second wake-up call 5 minutes later?"
-- "Yes please."
"Is that all Mr Anthony?"
-- "Yes that's all"
"Well I hope you have a nice sleep them."
-- "Why do you say that? Do you wanna come up?"
"No sir. I didn't mean that. I was just wishing you for a good sleep."
-- "You're quite welcome to come up. Really. You know where I am."
"That's OK sir. Good night."
-- "Night then. Sure you won't come up later?
"Ok then. After my shift."
