Surreal Stories from the Hidden Side of Hotels - Episode Two
The CEO and the Empty Safe
I had a thirty-year career at a hotel company that didn’t want to hire me. The journey from being “too old, too educated”, and having “too many opinions” to qualify as a hotel security guard to being awarded the company’s highest individual honour, to being selected by my peers as the world’s most influential corporate security executive, was one of non-stop experiences, spanning everything you can imagine, and a lot that you can’t! From “wait, what” to “OMG” to “I’m pinching myself, but I’m not waking up”, sooner or later, a career in hotels will expose you to all the life has to offer.
In this series, twice weekly, I’ll share stories from behind the scenes in the world’s greatest job in the world’s most fun and rewarding (at least educationally rewarding) industry.
By the end of the series, you’ll agree that working in security is the best hotel education one can receive, and you’ll wonder why many hotels and hotel groups are run by former cooks and accountants instead of former hotel security guards. (Yes, I’m being sarcastic… more or less)
Episode Two - The CEO and the Empty Safe
The first time I visited Amman, Jordan, I travelled on short notice and had clear instructions from my boss, the Vice President of Technical Services and Projects.
“When you get there, call me and let me know if you think we can brand the hotel.”
We had entered into a management agreement for a hotel that had been independently operated. It was being renovated to be brought in line with our brand standards. That’s a common occurrence in hotel companies.
My boss told me the CEO’s PA would call with flight details and other particulars. Less than an hour after he hung up, she called.
“You’ll fly out this afternoon”, she told me as I was finishing the sandwich I had for lunch. “Take your passport to the consulate to get your visa. You’re flying via London and you can pick up your tickets at the SAS desk in the hotel.”
A couple of points of clarification here:
1) Our company was owned by Scandinavian Airlines and our hotels had ticket offices and check-in counters in the lobby. 2) I was used to travelling on short notice. The small backpack I always had with me contained a couple of enough clothing, toothpaste, and contact lenses for me to be away for a week to ten days. 3) I wasn't married. It didn't matter if I went home or to the airport after work.
I arrived in Amman, via London and Beirut, shortly after midnight local time. A very friendly and welcoming driver dressed in a smart red and black uniform was waiting for me. Over the coming months, we would become well-acquainted, and I looked forward to the drives between the airport and the hotel.
It was quiet when I entered the lobby of the hotel. The night manager welcomed me, I signed the already filled-in registration card and went to bed.
The next morning, I called my boss bright and early.
Even under the cover of darkness, it was abundantly clear that the hotel was more construction site than completed project. My trip felt wasted…
He told me not to worry and laid out an agenda for the day for me.
- Meet with the GM - Explore the property - Go for a walk and enjoy the city - Meet Mr. K. in the lobby at 4:00 pm
I’d never met Mr K. before. He was a legendary leader in the company and, as I shared in the recent story about The Legends of Rezidor, he later became the best boss I ever had.
So, the hotel wasn’t ready to be branded, but there was a hitch.
It was scheduled to host a very large global event a few months later. We couldn’t pull out of the event, and it was imperative that the hotel was branded and ready.
To give you an idea of how far from completion the project was, during that first visit, there was no ventilation at all on the two underground floors that contained technical rooms, storage rooms, and staff changing rooms. To walk one of the long, unventilated corridors you had to hold your breath to avoid gagging on the stale air. The GM refused to let me enter the staff canteen, too. It was dark, hot, and unappealing.
“We’ll fix it”, the GM said, and to his credit, the local teams under his leadership performed miracles that I watched unfold during my regular visits in the following weeks.
From a life safety perspective, the hotel was ready. From a customer service and experience perspective, it wasn’t.
The bar in the lobby wasn’t branded or fitted out. The creative General Manager, who is also featured in the Legends of Rezidor article, contacted SAS Airline HQ.
“Send us whatever you can. Merch, clothing, posters. Whatever you have!”
A couple of days later, a shipment arrived. Posters were slapped on the walls, model planes were placed on the shelves, and uniforms were fitted on mannequins. The bar was named “Wings”. That name stuck for years; even long after we no longer operated the hotel.
Plan B was rolled out a few days before the conference. Plan B was finding people that would be able to preserve the illusion that the hotel well and truly lived up to our operational brand standards.
An Executive Housekeeper and his two best supervisors from Kuwait, a Front Office Manager from an Egyptian resort, a bartender from Brussels, and a manager from the Royal Club executive floor in Copenhagen, were all flown in for the three-day conference.
Two days before D-day the CEO visited the hotel one last time. He was relatively happy with how things looked and told me so when he called me from Amman.
“…but I’ll sleep better if you’re here, so my PA has booked a flight for you to fly down tonight. Maybe I’ll see you before I head to the airport at 6:00 am.”
Little did he know. We would definitely see each other before he went to the airport.
I was on the same route as before; Oslo - London - Beirut - Amman. As fate would have it, I was delayed. We had an on-time arrival in Beirut, but the pilot missed the stop line at the gate. There was a wait before a push-back vehicle backed the plane to the spot where the gate bridge could connect to the plane. By the time the plane was in the right spot, the person with the keys to the gate bridge had disappeared and needed to be tracked down.
An hour later than planned, I landed in Amman.
After clearing immigration and customs, I looked for my friend, the driver in the red and black uniform, but he was nowhere to be seen. I figured management had decided I’d been to Amman often enough to make my own way to the hotel.
When I stepped out of the taxi that ferried me to the property, I saw the driver. He wasn’t smiling. He yelled, “Finally, you’re here!” at me and grabbed the bag from my hand. As I entered the hotel, I saw my friend the Night Manager. He wasn’t smiling either and he wasn’t going to check me in.
“It’s a disaster! The General Manager needs to see you immediately.”
I followed the extended line of his pointing arm and looked toward the elevator bank.
The General Manager, an avid jogger, was sprinting toward me.
“Where have you been? Our CEO has lost everything! His safe was robbed. It’s all gone! Everything!”
My heart started to race and I wondered why I had quit my job as a movie theatre ticket taker a decade earlier to take a pay cut and start working in hotel security.
Ten years into the job though, I was a blossoming expert so I asked an expert question:
“Have you called the police?”
Thankfully, the GM resisted any valid urge he may have had to whack me.
“Police? We have police! Every senior police official in the country is here! Even some people from the ministry are here!”
I assumed he meant the Ministry of Justice, although I might have welcomed someone from a ministry with connections to higher powers.
Chaotic scenes greeted us when the elevator doors opened on the executive floor. Police, detectives, hotel management team members, and others were milling around. Everyone had a look in their eyes that was somewhere between fear and hopelessness.
There were no mirrors, but I’m certain my look mirrored theirs.
A familiar voice sounded from somewhere in the crowd:
“This is all your fault you know.”
As the seas of people parted, the CEO, dressed in the Royal Club robe and slippers that were standard in all Royal Club rooms and suites, came toward me. He was the calmest person in the corridor.
“You say we should have safes in all the rooms. So, when I see one I think, “Paul says we should have these, so I should use them.” I was going to take my things out before going to sleep so I wouldn’t forget anything in the morning. But the safe was open and empty. I was sure I had locked it and I know I put my things in there.”
I’ll admit, I had no idea what to do or where to begin… then, the CEO gave me the clue I needed.
“When I went to put my stuff in the safe, the bracket that it should have been bolted to the wall with was inside. I called the GM and said, “I know the hotel isn’t ready and I accept that, but we shouldn’t show the guests. Ask someone to remove the brackets from the safes that aren’t bolted to the wall.””
From there, the case almost solved itself.
I asked the GM what he’d done to follow up on the CEO’s request.
“I told my Executive Housekeeper to sort things out.”
I turned to the Executive Housekeeper.
“Safes are technical. I told the Chief Engineer to fix the CEO’s safe!”
The Chief Engineer was a wonderful, always helpful and chatty Irishman. He wasn’t smiling.
“We’re working 24 hours a day! We don’t have time to fix safes! I told my assistant manager to swap the safe in the CEO’s suite with one from another room.”
Before I could ask another expert stupid question, he saved me.
“We checked all the other rooms! We haven’t found anything.”
I asked him where his assistant manager was.
“He’s asleep! He hasn’t slept in days! He was out on his feet. He needs to rest!”
I felt truly sorry for the worn-out assistant when he joined us a couple of minutes later. Dressed in shorts, and a t-shirt, the barefoot engineer wiped the sleep from his eyes as I asked him:
“Do you remember being asked to swap the safe from the CEO’s suite with one from a neighbouring room?”
“Yes”
“Did you do as you were asked?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“The safe was locked. I thought something might be inside that should be protected. I took it to our office and locked it in a big safe. Then I put a new safe in the suite.”
The weary assistant was dispatched to retrieve the safe from the safe in his office.
When he returned, the CEO was asked to try his code on the safe in the assistant engineer’s hands.
It opened.
The contents were intact.
We all agreed that communication could have been better.
We also agreed that the assistant engineer had made a good decision by securing the locked safe.
Relief was overwhelming.
The CEO told me to never tell anyone the story. (Sorry, boss)
The Jordanian police laughed and left.
The tired assistant engineer went to bed.
The GM went to bed.
The Chief Engineer, the Executive Housekeeper and a couple of others and I emptied a number of bottles of beer.
All’s well that ends well indeed.
The conference went off without a hitch and was a great success.
It, and many of the people I met there, remained favourites for many years.
That’s the end of this story, but I can’t mention the hotel without mentioning 9/11.
Not that 9/11, (in some countries they put the day before the month).
November 9, 2005, the hotel in Amman was one of three attacked by terrorists on the same night. Scores of people died. Ever since, I always send warm thoughts to the people in the hotel, the people of Amman, and the people of Jordan.
Stay safe, Always Care
Written with the clarity of hindsight, the accuracy of a faded memory, and countless creative liberties, 87 Stories is a journal of how my gap year lasted four decades, made me an emigrant, an immigrant and gave me a life I never dreamed of.
This current series gives a behind-the-scenes look at the wacky, wonderful world of hotels from the eyes of a university dropout that had a storied, basement-to-boardroom career in hotel security. Be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss any of the episodes in the pipeline!
Here’s a link to Episode 1.
Episode 3 is a doozy about the time I was alone in a room with Salman Rushdie while he enjoyed lunch during his time in exile… that day, however, he wasn’t in the country everyone thought he was in!
In addition to my love for writing, I’m also a professor, an educator, and a consultant. I’ve been told that my specialty is saving bacon.
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