I’m really not sure if I’m cut out for this customer service business. You see, I’m a manager at one of the top-rated hostels in Prague—in all of Europe, as a matter of fact. I’ve worked here for nearly two years, and I’ve been in the hostel-industry for almost four. And most people I know would describe me as a “people person.” But I still can’t get past people’s stu…

Maybe I should be nice.

Let’s just say I never stop being surprised at what tourists will do or say in the name of their own comfort.

It’s like their brains stop working when they get on the plane.

Or maybe, in general, I’m giving tourists too much credit.

Do I sound cynical?

Three nights ago I went to bed, looking forward to a decent night’s sleep at 11:00 pm. Perhaps I was just not destined to have a good night’s sleep, because as soon as I turned out the lights a good friend of mine who I hadn’t seen in three weeks sent me a text. But was I upset? Not in the least! I smiled, put my mobile down, and, with a warm feeling in my heart, laid my weary head on my pillow.

Then, almost an hour later, my computer gave that futuristic bleeping noise that told me I had a video chat. (It was the same friend.) Now, I’m a sucker for answering the phone at any time of night, particularly if I get to use my brand-new iMac video iChat. But I really wanted to get some sleep. So with a bit less warm, and slightly guilty, feeling in my heart, I ignored the call and tried to go back to sleep.

You may think I’m digressing, but you would be wrong. I simply want to illustrate my frame of mind when, at 12:15 am, I received a call from my nightman at the hostel. 12:15. At night.

I’m one of those people who have the privilege of being on call 24-hours a day, almost seven days a week. Normally I don’t mind, even if one of my receptionists calls me at the oddest hour. Normally, however, the call signifies an emergency.

But I can’t blame my receptionist for calling me this time. The guest was a complete as…

Okay, still trying to be nice.

My receptionist calls me and says that a guest was complaining because his bed wasn’t cleaned that day. Now, we’re a hostel, and there are several reasons we don’t provide new linens every day. But my receptionist knows that. He continued:

“He also says that his towels weren’t replaced this morning.”

“Did he drop them on the floor?” (When a guest in a private room wants a new towel, he’s supposed to drop it on the floor so that the cleaner knows to replace it with a fresh towel.)

“Yes.”

“Did he take the ‘Do not disturb’ sign off his door.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me talk to him.”

I won’t subject you to the whole, hideously long and inane conversation. I started out by apologizing to the guest. I told him that I didn’t know why the cleaner didn’t provide fresh towels but that I would find out why in the morning. (I have to assume that he actually did take off the ‘Do not disturb’ sign.) I told him that, unfortunately, as a hostel we don’t clean beds every day unless a guest requests it.

I told him all this while standing in my post-midnight room with nary a stitch on.

Finally, I told him that my receptionist can give him fresh towels.

Let me say that I wasn’t the only one talking here. My “I told him” moments were in response to his nasal comments about how irritated he was. But here’s the kicker. When I explained to him that we could provide fresh towels at reception, here’s what he said:

“But they’re not the same kind of towels.”

“Excuse me?”

“The green towels in my room are nicer. The orange towels you have at reception aren’t as nice.”

“Sir, the [free] towels at reception are just as nice as the [free] towels in your room.”

“No, they’re not. The towels at reception are cheap. I want the same quality towels in my room. I want what I’ve paid for.”

I came very close to telling him that he didn’t pay for towels, he paid for a room. But that wouldn’t have been appropriate as a customer service representative! I did, however, say ever-so-politely that I was a little surprised that he was upset about receiving a different kind of free towel. (The orange towels, by the way, are just as nice as the green towels. They’re from the same company!)

I’m not really sure what this guy wanted from me. To admit that I was wrong? Probably. I asked him several times what I could do to make the situation better, but he wouldn’t say. He kept on making snide comments about our mistake and the cheapness of our orange towels, but he never came out and stated, “Give me a discounted stay.”

We messed up. This gentleman’s towels should have been replaced earlier that day while he was exploring Prague to his heart’s content. And I made sure to stress the fact that we made a mistake. But a conversation about the quality of one color of towel versus another? After midnight?!

This kind of stuff happens entirely too often.

But I’m proud of myself. I didn’t just tell him that we could refund his money and he could find another place to stay that night. I’m making a little progress

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