Two more data points. Skunked both times.
We spent some more time back at the Sheraton in Lansing, Michigan while our kids attended sports camps at Michigan State. We actually made two separate reservations – one for two nights arriving on Saturday, July 19th (skunked) and the other for 4 nights arriving on July 23rd (skunked again). Both reservations were using SPG points, and we were told that we were denied upgrades because we were using points and not paying for our rooms.
For those with a little free time on their hands, here are the details:
First Reservation (July 19th through July 21st):
On check-in the first time, we were told that since we were using SPG points, we were not entitled to a room upgrade. According to this agent, we had to pay retail for our room to qualify for any upgrades as an SPG platinum. Plus she said, she was “pretty sure” that all the suites were taken anyway . ....
I told her that I was there only last month using points and that I was upgraded without a problem. She basically said that I was lying, and it has been a long standing policy at this Sheraton to never upgrade any SPG platinums who were staying using points.
I asked her if her manager expressly told her that SPG platinums are not to be upgraded when they stay on points, and she looked me in the eye and said: “Yes.”
On the plus side, she did give us a SPG Platinum welcome amenity menu to review. We arrived after midnight, and everything was closed, so we chose the “$10 mini-bar credit.” So we go up to the room, and guess what? No minibar. So in the process of unloading the car, I swing by the front desk and ask whassup with that? She looks at me like I’m an idiot and informs me that none of their rooms have minibars. I asked what I was supposed to do with the “$10 mini-bar credit”, and she said that they treat the “$10 mini-bar credit” as a general credit for room service and restaurant charges. She noted that since it was shortly after midnight, everything (room service, restaurant, everything) was closed for the night, but we could use that credit some other time. Thanks.
We did get free access to the concierge lounge on the 5th floor, but learned the next morning that it was closed for remodel. A sign on the Club Floor lounge door informs you that they have set up a temporary site down on the ground floor. So I followed the signs from the elevator to the “club floor lounge,” which really just eventually leads you into a back door of the main restaurant on the ground floor. Once inside that door, on Sunday mornings at least, you are standing smack dab in the middle of a massive display of food -- fruit trays, baked goods trays, dessert table, a line of sterno-warmed vats of goodies, the works.
It was pretty clear to me that this was no ordinary club floor cheese room, so I wanted to make sure before digging in. The only other person in the area (which includes about 30 completely empty tables that were fully set-up for dining, was a woman standing there in a full chef’s hat and white apron waiting to cook eggs to order at an omelet station. So I asked her if this food was for people staying on the Club Floor? Here were her exact words:
“Yes – 10 - Close”
I interpreted this to mean that her English wasn’t so good, but that yes, I was indeed in the fanciest cheese room/club floor lounge ever and that per the signs on the door, it closed at 10 AM. Since, it was already 9:50 AM; I had better get to work filling my plate. Thanks for the tip lady.
Right in the middle of toasting a real bagel (i.e. not one of those Lenders things calling itself a bagel favored by lesser cheese rooms), the nastiest, grumpiest, woman in all the land appears on her broomstick and shouts “CAN I HELP YOU” at me while standing a foot away from me.
Me: “No thanks, I’m good to go. Just waiting on a bagel . . ..”
Broomstick lady: “THIS IS NOT THE CLUB FLOOR BREAKFAST!!!!!!!!! THIS IS THE RESTAURANT’S SUNDAY BRUNCH!!!!!!!”
Me: “Oh? Maybe you should tell the Omelet lady this, because when I asked her if I were in the right place, she said “Yes – 10 – Close.” (Strangely, the omelet lady was nowhere to be found by now. She may not have spoken English very well, but her survival instinct was fully functional).
Maximizing her joy of humiliating me, Dragon lady then proceeded to march my freeloading, worthless butt to the real club floor lounge. She appeared so proud to have bagged another one; she had to scold me in front of the packed club floor lounge for not following the signs.
That was it. Instead of just taking it from the Dragon Lady, I walked her back to the door I had entered into the restaurant, and asked her to point out the signs that direct you past all of the food sitting right there, through the completely empty restaurant, around the corner and into the “club floor” lounge. (There are none). Rather than acknowledge anything, she stormed off in a huff.
Regarding the “club floor” lounge, you’ll know you are there because it is absolutely packed with people hovering around a small 10 foot table that features one slightly broken 4 slice toaster and a bag of Lender’s bagels, that are still in the bag. I’m not making this up, but the “fruit tray” was a dinner plate sitting next to the toaster with a few picked over grapes and some cut-up watermelon chunks on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that someone sat down their partially eaten plate of fruit to make some toast, forgot about it, and you’re now picking their leftover fruit off their plate. Fancy.
Moreover, despite the adjacent restaurant and it’s over 30 tables being completely empty (for heaven’s sake Starwood, this is economically depressed Lansing, Michigan! Who is going to spend $25+ (per person) for a fancy-pants Sunday brunch at a dark, charmless and dated hotel restaurant just off the freeway on the outskirts of town and overseen by a headset wearing dragon lady?). Everyone in the “club floor” lounge is forced to find space at one of the six tables, 3 of which are full sized, and 3 of which have table tops that are the size of a large pizza.
Every now and then a brave “club floor” sole would tire of standing up while eating and venture out of the cramped protected alcove of the “club floor lounge” and innocently sit at one of the empty restaurant tables. We would all shudder as Dragon Lady would quickly swoop in to humiliate her next unsuspecting victim.
This all got pretty old, pretty quickly, so we avoided the “Club Floor” lounge during most of our stay. Free slightly toasted Lender’s bagels and watered down coffee just aren’t worth it. I did swing by on my last day to see if Dragon Lady had added a sign inside the restaurant directing people past the brunch food to the “club floor” lounge, but none was there. I think she enjoys that part of her job just a little too much, and she isn’t eager to make it go away.
Second Reservation (July 23th through July 27st):
On check-in the second time, we were told again (by a different agent from our earlier stay) that since we were using SPG points, we were not entitled to a room upgrade. She told us that suites were indeed available, and she would give us one if we would pay $145/night for our room instead of using points. Judging from the parking lot, the hotel was completely empty. We declined.
We were given “club floor” lounge access (gee thanks), but no welcome amenity. Like with upgrades, we were told that SPG platinum guests staying on points are not entitled to a welcome amenity.
Me: “But we received a welcome amenity only three days ago . . . . From this very hotel”
Check-in Agent: “They shouldn’t have given you that.”
Me: “Has hotel management expressly told you not to give upgrades or welcome amenities to SPG Platinum members staying on points?”
Check-in Agent: “Yes.”
So there you go . . . more data for the team.
I think the fatal flaw with SPG Platinum is that its “benefits” are administered by check-in agents that don’t know what they’re doing. The net result is that Starwood’s most loyal patrons are at the mercy of check-in clerks, whom are probably minimum wage workers with limited customer service training or experience and whom often have no motivation to do anything out of the ordinary. Moreover, these clerks probably also receive conflicting instructions from “management,” which obviously would rather sell rooms than give them away.
We’re now 2.5 for 8 attempts. (That’s a whopping 31% success rate)
-nodge
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Nodge- I was wondering where you were these last few days. Now I know. Is there such a thing as a pseudoresort?
!
That's all I can say...