When
a travel insurer sent me to the Airport Marriott, I remembered that the hotel
hadn’t called in a year, so I decided to reintroduce myself.
“We
don’t have a doctor,” said the lady in the security office.
“I’ve
made hundreds of visits.”
“I
never called you,” she insisted. She summoned a nearby officer who agreed that
no one knew about a hotel doctor. She accepted my card and put it in a drawer.
My
next stop was the concierge desk, but it was vacant. When times are tough,
concierges are the first employees to go.
The
front desk clerks agreed that having a hotel doctor was a wonderful idea and
thanked me for my cards.
“I
guess no one’s been sick,” said the bellman cheerfully when I queried him. I
had no doubt that whatever doctor he called tipped him $20 or $30 or $50 for
the referral. This is illegal but a common practice. The bellman thanked me for
my card and put it in a drawer.
If
you assume that general managers hate choosing a doctor on the basis of his
kickback, you’d be right. Sometimes. When I informed the GM of the Westin, he
took action. When I informed the GM of the Beverly Hills Hotel he merely passed
my letter on to the chief concierge who phoned to announce that I need expect
no calls from the Beverly Hills hotel.
Sick
guests often call the operator, so I dialed the Marriott’s number.
“Hi,
Doctor Oppenheim. It’s been a long time.”
That
was a pleasant surprise. The operator explained that she had worked there for
twenty years and spoken to me many times. She admitted that the hotel had no
policy on doctors nor was any name in their directory. She would be happy to
take down my number and pass it around.
I
left feeling pleased with myself because I hardly ever market myself to
employees. I continue to make the occasional visit to the Marriott but always
at the request of a travel insurer. The hotel itself remains silent.
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