FreeBSDGirl.com

This email is slightly edited, as I didn’t want to give out any information about my room number, etc, but here’s a bit of a story about what my day was like. I just sent this to Hyatt. I hope they burn.

To: consumeraffairs@hyatt.com
From: sektie@freebsdgirl.com
Subject: I’d have stayed at the Hilton, but Paris looks like a narcoleptic ferret with down syndrome.

I would like to thank this specific Hyatt for making the worst day of my life even more horrible. I didn’t think my day could get worse, but I was very, very wrong.

First, let me tell you about my day. It was my 24th birthday. My boyfriend had bought me tickets for Phantom of the Opera as his present to me. This was very sweet. Then he forgot what day my birthday was and left on a business trip to New York. I sold the tickets to my boss. Needless to say, I was very upset at the boyfriend in question. I got over it though, and decided to spend the night by myself at home on my laptop.

Everything went well and fine until the day in question. I woke up, wondering why my alarm had not gone off. I looked over, but to my dismay, it was powered off. I walked downstairs, still confused, only to discover there was no electricity. Yes. The incompetent boyfriend mentioned earlier also forgot to pay the power bill - or the check just got lost in the mail. It really doesn’t matter to me, the end result was the same. I drove to work as fast as I could without fear of being pulled over, only to walk in right as the CEO was walking out. He greeted me, and I gave him a weak smile, cursing my luck. However, I’m usual a model employee, so this hopefully won’t pose much of a problem.

During lunch, I had to drive home to get the boyfriends checkbook, as he had left it there by accident. I read him the account number at 1 pm. He had 2 hours to make a phone call to the electric company, but he didn’t manage to do it in time. Guess what that means? Yes, that’s right. I can’t even go home and be on my laptop, because there was no bloody electricity until the next day.

Enraged, I call him and demand a hotel room. I tell him to find himself a room at the Motel 6, but I want a suite at the Hyatt. I give him the information for the one across from my office, and slam down the phone (for all the good it does me, as I was on a cell phone).

So, Hyatt hotels, it’s true that nothing up to this point was your fault. You couldn’t have prevented it. However, everything that went wrong after this I blame entirely on you.

You stated to my boyfriend that he could pay with his credit card, but he had to be in the city that night to sign for it. It was agreed upon that I could arrive early. I had told my boyfriend it was OK that he wasn’t coming back this night, as he’d already missed his flight due to circumstances beyond his control. Because of what your hotel staff told him, he had to schedule a flight for that night, getting in very late - about midnight. I was displeased, as I did not want to see him. I was still very angry.

When I arrived at the hotel, I was greeted by a staff that seemed very, very confused. The woman trying to help me couldn’t even work her own computer. She had to call over a manager. Finally, after having to give her $35 (whatever for, I have no idea, as my boyfriend already provided his credit card information), I went up to my room.

This is Atlanta. There are a lot of gay people in Atlanta. Many, many gay men. Please, take my advice, even if you choose to ignore everything else I complain about in this email. Hire one of the many gay men, and let him redecorate. The rooms could have been very nice if the blanket hadn’t been of Walmart quality and the colors had been a little less reminiscent of the funeral home that serviced my grandmother.

Despite all that, I figured it wasn’t the room I was paying such an obscene amount of money for. I was expecting a high quality of customer service. Unfortunately, this Hyatt was already starting to let me down.

Determined to enjoy my birthday night by myself in a hotel that was decorated by a colorblind Mexican, I called room service and ordered dinner. 20 minutes later, they call me back and say they can’t charge it to my room. I call the front desk, and they tell me that it’s ok, they’ll call room services and straighten it out. 10 minutes later, I get another call from the front desk saying that my room is prepaid, and it’s not necessary for my boyfriend to come in later. So his flight was for absolutely nothing. Also, I couldn’t charge any food to the room. This was a serious problem, as I spent the last of my on-hand cash when I gave them $35 for the room that my boyfriend supposedly already paid for.

Now I’m hungry and angry. When my blood sugar gets low, I get bitchy. The desk clerk tells me that she’ll ask her manager. I explain the situation to her manager, telling him that I have my boyfriends credit card information with me. It won’t be a problem. If they need a hard copy of the card, he’ll be in later that night regardless, because of what they lied to him about earlier. He refuses to be even the least little bit understanding, and denies me room service. Then he chides me for ordering pay-per-view, saying that isn’t allowed for prepaid rooms.

So now I’m angry, hungry, and being berated by your staff. My boyfriend finally arrives in town, much, much later. He comes to the hotel, but there’s no one at the front desk to let him in. He stands outside for 15 minutes with a few other people trying desperately to gain entrance to the hotel. Finally, someone lets them in. My boyfriend is angry at them for how they have treated me, but they shrug their shoulders and send him on his way.

Thankfully, I am fairly drunk at this point off the bottle of wine that one of my friends has brought me to cheer me up, so he decides to give up on a lost cause and we both go to sleep.

Do you understand my anger? I spent well over $200 for that one night at that hotel, and I’ve had better customer service at a $40 room for the Holiday Inn.

Love,

Randi Harper