One such trip for me was to Baltimore for a national marketing conference. Since the conference began at 7:30 a.m. on a Monday, I left Sunday. My scheduled time of arrival was 5 p.m. To no one’s surprise, the crossing became a 12-hour odyssey.
As I stepped into the hotel lobby, the clock chimed 11 p.m. Already sleepy and hungry, the clerk was about to make me grumpy. Despite my paid reservation, there was no room at the inn.
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Basically, the family reunion trumped the conference.
The clerk apologized and offered to find me a hotel nearby. That was unacceptable, I already was dreading Monday’s wake-up call. Clearly at a stalemate, the clerk summoned the night manager.
Calmly, I laid out my case: I wasn’t leaving. There had to be space somewhere. Got a room being renovated? I’d sleep on the floor. The kitchen was closed, put me there. What about an office or a sofa in the bar?
He walked away for a few minutes and reappeared with a smile. He had a solution if I found it acceptable. The bellhop scooped up my luggage and we headed for the elevator.
The manager had a small key and unlocked a little plastic button at the top of the elevator keypad. It hid a floor marked “E,” obviously the hotel’s top floor.
When the elevator opened, it faced two massive doors with one big sign: Executive Boardroom - Capacity 80.
The room was enormous, magnificently furnished with wood-paneled walls. In the center was a chromed, thick glass table for 40. The room had a bar, kitchen, and Jacuzzi in the bathroom. At the end was a plush reception area with an entertainment center.
Indeed, it was a serious room for serious business.
“If this is OK, you can sleep here. Consider it a free upgrade,” he laughed.
Out the windows, the city’s night panorama was spectacular. But there was still one sight missing… I hadn’t seen a bed.
“So, I sleep on the glass?” I said.
“The roll-away is on its way,” said the manager. For my inconvenience, he offered me $50 in hotel credit.
“I’ll take it. Thank you.”
By the time I hit the pillow, it was 1 a.m.
Come Monday morning, somehow, several attendees had heard of my no-bed debacle. It was a fun icebreaker, albeit at my bleary-eyed expense. To make the orientation, I was up at the equivalent of 3:45 a.m. Tucson time.
Tuesday night was open and the conference organizers were planning a post-dinner rendezvous in the lounge. I had a spontaneous, better idea: How about happy hour in my luxurious “hospitality suite?”
Whether it was outright curiosity, outright courtesy, or my outgoing personality (Nah!) the proposal was an easy sell. No marketing needed.
No longer just another attendee, we passed the hat and collected about $150 for “supplies.” With shopping list in hand, we recruited Ty, a concierge, to run an errand. For $25, he gladly agreed to go shop and set the room.
As we taxied off to dinner, Ty motored off to market.
At 9 p.m., Ty unlocked the elevator’s “E” button for the guests. The stereo oozed jazzy blues and he had set up the reception area to capture the city views. With the hotel credit, Ty had scored some hot hors d’oeuvres.
In singles and small groups, about 25 marketeers and esteemed instructors drifted in to my “executive palace.” It was an honor to host them all, thanks to a wedding and an odd law.
This is a true story, drawn from Yohem’s 25-year, award-winning communica-tions career with the Southern Arizona Home Builders Association, Tucson Electric Power, and Southwest Gas. His column, looking at the lighter side of “challenges” in the business world, appears the first and third weeks of each month in Inside Tucson Business.
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