Standards of service
Last week, we accompanied my father to the Legend Hotel, Kuala Lumpur. He was in town for a meeting and was checking in to the hotel where the meeting was held.
At the check-in counter, my father (and his “entourage” consisting of my husband, my nephew and I) were led to the Executive lounge for VIP registration. It seemed as a Board member of this statutory body, my father was entitled to an Executive suite on their Executive floor, hence his registration in their Executive lounge.
My husband and nephew followed close behind my father while I lagged behind, busy responding to a sms from a consultant friend. Also a bit hesitant about stepping in to the room but the young man at he door kept them opened and seemed to be waiting for me, so not wanting to disappoint him, I followed suit.
This is supposed to be service at its best. The guest relations person never forget to refer to my father by his designation, “Dato’” this and “Dato’” that. I guess she was trained that way but I can’t help thinking she could have been a bit more warmth in her service delivery. Term of reference is one thing, but to smile graciously AND genuinely is totally something else. It shouldn’t have been hard to do.
Or did she perhaps feel that it is a burden to attend to people with titles, especially one as old as my dad and obviously not in the same league as the CEOs of the nation’s top corporations. Well, excuse us if my dad had on his less expensive wrist watch – his gold Rolex is undergoing its scheduled maintenance service.
At the check-in counter, my father (and his “entourage” consisting of my husband, my nephew and I) were led to the Executive lounge for VIP registration. It seemed as a Board member of this statutory body, my father was entitled to an Executive suite on their Executive floor, hence his registration in their Executive lounge.
My husband and nephew followed close behind my father while I lagged behind, busy responding to a sms from a consultant friend. Also a bit hesitant about stepping in to the room but the young man at he door kept them opened and seemed to be waiting for me, so not wanting to disappoint him, I followed suit.
This is supposed to be service at its best. The guest relations person never forget to refer to my father by his designation, “Dato’” this and “Dato’” that. I guess she was trained that way but I can’t help thinking she could have been a bit more warmth in her service delivery. Term of reference is one thing, but to smile graciously AND genuinely is totally something else. It shouldn’t have been hard to do.
Or did she perhaps feel that it is a burden to attend to people with titles, especially one as old as my dad and obviously not in the same league as the CEOs of the nation’s top corporations. Well, excuse us if my dad had on his less expensive wrist watch – his gold Rolex is undergoing its scheduled maintenance service.
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