For a recent trip to NYC I stayed at The Pierre Hotel at the SE corner of Central Park. I rarely choose to stay at such self-declared high end hotels because of a history of disappointments over the years. The Pierre reminded me just how wise I’ve been.
The doormen that help rotate the revolving door, the white-gloved dark-skinned female elevator operators that save guests the trouble of pushing the floor button, the handsome young men in tails at the registration desk are all part of the ambience.
Unfortunately, so is the concierge recommended sports bar that is really a French bistro, the dirty plate of half-eaten fruit left in my room, the bar servers incapable of splitting a check 50/50 between a credit card and a room charge, and the housekeeper ringing the doorbell of my room at 10:30 the first night and 9:30 the second to see if I wanted ice.
Operations can quickly waste all the money invested in marketing an image.