The Hospitality Hydra

By "Sam"

Tuesday.

I finally arrived at the back of the hotel after fighting my way through the prelude to rush hour. I was slightly late and had trouble finding the temp agency supervisor, who was not outside to let me in. I managed to get in by liaising with the guard, since the fingerprint identification they used for the steel turnstile prevented me from entering as any other employee would. I  found my uniform quickly and struggled as I did last shift, to find two pairs of gloves that would fit my hands. We needed two pairs as the plates would burn our hands otherwise. They still burned our hands if we didn’t carry them with a cloth underneath. We then signed up with another staff manager, who assigned us our table and group number.

Group A served once side of the banquet hall, while group B served the other side. Each group was led by a supervisor, who we would follow using ‘snake service’ to serve each table completely and as fast as possible. I was assigned the same partner as last time, who was essentially my in-house counterpart and whose shift went on until the end of the event. As he had shown me what to do last time, I set to work polishing the cutlery immediately and helping set up the table. 

Just as before, the wait staff supervisor went through the instructions for the night. The tone was paternal with a feigned professionalism. He did not expect much from the agency workers beyond being able to follow his rather confusing instructions. He went through the menu, while struggling with some of the vocabulary in a thick Italian accent. We then joined the in-house staff in the backroom of the banquet hall where we were given another set of instructions on how to behave and serve. This was common sense, but we were generally treated like school children, who would just mess everything up if our hand wasn’t held. This encouraged a mood of rebellion, with many temps making jokes behind the backs of supervisors throughout the night.


The shift began with a group of us assigned to the drinks reception where we were instructed to hold trays of drinks and serve the banquet attendees as they arrived. We stood in a line and at the doors to hand drinks to everyone and take them away. Apparently at a 5 star hotel, people must always mediate between guests and the things they consume. Nobody must ever be allowed to serve themselves. 

There was a group of blond women walking around during this time handing out programs. I managed to pocket one of them and read it after we finished serving drinks. It included information about the event, which was an awards ceremony of sorts for London realtors and estate agencies. This merely enhanced the vast gulf between those of us who were serving and the guests themselves, who arrived clad in suits and gowns that looked as if they would cost the equivalent of a years rent in London. The irony was not lost on my fellow servers, and glances were exchanged as the revelers swelled. Afterwards, we commiserated over our own housing woes while forming two straight lines in the kitchen, ready to begin serving the first course. 

 
The first course was served the same as the previous shift. A snake service that began in the kitchen. We stood in one long line, slowly trodding forward to the large steel counter top behind which several chefs were rapidly pushing plates out, forming grid-like rows and columns from which we were to pick up the starters three at a time. As soon as our plates were gathered, we would each rapidly quicken our pace from trod to trot, exiting the kitchen and weaving through the tables and chairs like the Hydra of Lerna. This was no easy feat, however it was an extremely efficient way to rapidly serve several hundred guests. This ‘snake service’ repeated with each course. Each server was responsible for their own table, yet we were paired with a non-agency hotel staff member and worked as a team. As a team we cleared one table at a time, adjusted the cutlery for each course, served the desserts, coffees, and chocolates at the end.


During this shift, several things went wrong in the kitchen and there were not enough main courses ready at the proper time. This provoked a high degree of stress from all of the top managers, who then proceeded to shout, slam doors, throw things and of course, blame the agency workers. Both in-house and agency staff were brought into a room after the shift and reprimanded for what to many of us, seemed a false claim – that we put the sugar out too early. 

This rather minor detail served as an excuse for the wait staff manager to berate us and tell us how expendable we were. His tirade included lamenting how much money they spend on staff to do the job properly and our seeming lack of competency or enthusiasm for his standards. He seemed to forget that literally everyone in the room (roughly 70 of us) were all paid either the minimum wage or a few pence above it, in one of the largest 5-star hotels in London.

Fuck This Hotel and Housekeeping

Watcha, my name's Olga, I am an immigrant, and I've been working in this high end central London  hotel for six months. Rooms here cost between £600 to £5000 per night. I'd need to work two weeks to be able to sleep one night in a bed that I make. I clean sixteen, eighteen, twenty rooms per day.

I'll be frank reader - I'm treated like a piece of shit. Every day I am shouted at. Every day I am ordered around and disrespected. This shouldn't happen to anyone.

Today's dispute was with the male supervisor. He was a porter just 2 months ago.

It’s 4:05pm and I'm on my last room, finishing my shift, when the supervisor rocks up to tell he needs a room cleaning to VIP standard. I tell him that I am leaving as it’s the end of my shift now, but he insists. "You must clean a room V-I-P" (flashing eyes, pointed letters). I refuse - it’s already after my shift. It’s his responsibility to check all the rooms done previously and if something is not to his taste and needs to be redone, I tell him sure, we can do it, but, not at that time. He did not sign my rooms list for this reason. I'm seething. 

Let me take you back a few hours.

Earlier this morning when I had 2 minutes to go until my lunch break the same supervisor came to my floor – Floor 10 - and told me to go to floor 9 and inform the housekeeper that she has a service and that she can clean it when she has time.

I tell him that it's his job to do this and he admits that is the case, however he claims he is busy and has to deliver a shirt that he is carrying (points to the wrinkled shirt a client has given to be washed and ironed). I agree to do him the favour and go. 

When I go down to floor 9 I notice that the room is already being cleaned.

I leave the room and take the lift back up to the canteen. 

It’s when I enter the canteen that I see him there with his plate full already on the table. He looks up an down again shiftyly. 

Ok. So, that means he asked me to do his tasks in order for him to have more time for his lunch, when I have to count my minutes and organise my time to clean rooms and have lunch that lasts 30 minutes - And my lunchbreak is not paid.

He tucks in to his food looking at his phone whilst I wait in the lunch line looking at my watch.

When this supervisor did not sign my room list at the end of the day, I reminded him of his trick to have more time for himself. This got him upset and he reproached me that I did not do the job properly in 3 rooms and that I had to do it because it is my obligation. I told him I did not do the job because it was already done by the time I finished my floor. That is the reason why.

My defence hung in the air. He blinked a few times. 

This bloke y'all, is just walking around all morning, stalking the corridors pretending to look busy and passing down his shit and talking down to me and everyone on the floor. This is why this argument happened. He is well known for that and in fact there is a rumour saying that he will stop working as a supervisor quite soon.

Even if he is demoted, our treadmill keeps turning. And will the person replacing him respect us? I doubt it. I feel that noone does.

This hotel doesn't take racism seriously

Hello my name is A.J* 

I have been a luggage porter at the Luxury Hotel** for over two years now. I like my job and I am good at it. I'm helpful, I'm attentive, I treat every guest who comes in with respect and I carry their bags to their rooms, into lifts, into their taxis. In films I might be called a 'bell boy'. But my core duty to help guests with directions, and with their bags.

I work closely with the other porters and reception. I am often the first person the guests see as I open the door to them and welcome them. I work any and all times of the day and night.

I am not from this country. English isn't my first language and I am not white. But I speak good English.

I do not have a problem with what I do, but I do have a problem with how I am treated by some of the people I work with.

For years now I have been working with a supervisor who ritually verbally abuses me. Sometimes even in front of guests.

It is as if I am his slave. It is as if I am expected to serve him and not simply work and co-operate with him, which I do.

The way he speaks to me is aggressive and so disrespectful. He has called me many names and compared me to animals. He swears at me in his own language too. He frequently tells me, that I am 'Fucking Stupid' and threatens me, telling me he can get me sacked. There is no need for this kind of behaviour and I tell him, that this is no way of speaking and that this is unacceptable here in work.

I have reported him but still we are put on the same shifts together. I fear work sometimes. I feel his hatred. Because he is a supervisor he uses his power over me to push me down. Other porters are not treated this way. When I receive a tip from a guest, if he has seen this, he will call me in to the office and demand it from me. It is my work, I served the guest, I carried their bags, I should keep the gratuity for it, not the supervisor.

I have complained so many times about his bullying but nothing gets done about it. It is as if I do not really matter here.

Apart from being threatened and insulted by him, another worker, also in a position of authority over me, has even gone so far as to physically assault me.

Again when I was doing just my job. He grabbed me, to make his point aggressively, whether he has a correct point to make or not, he has no right to put his hands on me, he has no right to shake me.

I have also had supervisors tell me that I smell due to the food I eat. This was very upsetting for me and I have never been spoken to like this in all the work I have done in London.

What is worst about all of this is that everything these people have been doing to me, I raise, I bring to higher managers but they do not take it seriously. I have evidence. But they are denying it. Others I work with are shocked. I should not be put on the same shifts as these people. They are attacking me and this goes against equality and dignity at work which we have the legal protection for. What I see though and what I feel is that the hotel does not take racism seriously. They don't take bullying seriously.

I don't want to carry on like this but I have a young family and even one month out of work would have a big impact on us. The tips I make, when they are not taken from me, help me massively. I want my children to have a better life than me. I am doing everything I can to help make a good life for them where they can succeed. I don't want them to be treated like dirt.

*A pseudenym

** A pseudenym

GUEST GUIDE IS READY!

Due to popular demand we finally have our Guest Guide! Here it is to download in PDF form. Share widely, thankyou very much x

By Giovannino again...

So who owns this place?

Yesterday the Chinese economy slumped. Billions of Pounds, Dollars, Euros and Yuan were wiped off the values of companies and individual stock portfolios. Even Warren Buffett lost out. Crowds of conventional economists, Finance Ministers and journalists could be observed huddling together, quietly chanting “La la la, not listening, not listening, nothing to see here …”

All I thought was “Shit, another year of no payrise…”. Should I worry? How else, apart from a possible slump in demand, could this affect me? I have no shares, no real property to my name, so why am I bothered?

 I do worry, because I have no way of knowing what the owners of my Hotel have invested in, or more importantly, how deep their Bankers and investors are in the shit.  On TV there is a big Sports Day in Bejing, but right now they are doing summersaults in Shanghai, and somebody might even be for the high jump…

If you stay in a Hotel, you probably know that the name above the door is a Brand. Somewhere deep down, we all accept how Branding works – a company owns a brand, and then licences that brand out to other, smaller companies. You know that Top Shop doesn’t own factories in Indonesia, that McDonalds Restaurants are mostly franchises, that Karrimor isn’t made in the UK anymore. Just so with that Hotel you have walked into.

'FastHotels'...

The Worlds biggest Hotel chains long ago discovered the secret to growth lies in the McDonalds model – franchising rather than actual ownership - at all levels of the market, as well as Management contracts. This frees up a lot of money that would otherwise go on maintenance, equipment or wages for directly employed staff. Money that would of course be better spent on Marketing, Board Renumeration or shareholder dividends.

                                  That luxury hotel you're staying in?.....It's a bit like this....

So, you enter the Hotel Lobby, cleaned by agency workers, go to your room (ditto), go to the restaurant or bar, possibly also agency staffed (your plates were cleaned by agency staff in the wash-up). The receptionist hands you the bill next morning  (now they probably are directly employed) – but your Bill has no reference to the actual owners of the Hotel, just the franchised brand they operate. Welcome to the outsourced and surreal world of Hospitality. For us too, our training will be Brand-specific, yet each month our paycheck comes from a different company. Some properties change Brand frequently – obviously the owners want a better (cheaper) deal, with HR norms that favour their interests even more, and access to maybe a bigger Marketing operation in specific markets. Some companies even operate franchises and management contracts with multiple Brands.

So who are we actually working for? How do we know exactly what to expect in pay and conditions? 

Promises....

Back in 2012, with the Olympics and an election looming, Boris Johnson needed a story to prove that the fun and games would directly benefit even the lowest paid Londoners. A senior executive of a worldwide Hotel operator stepped up to the plate and announced that by 2017 all workers in his company’s London Hotels would be paid The London Living Wage – see what a business friendly Mayor can deliver!!!! That company waited a little while, then sold its flagship in London, whilst retaining the management contract. It is not even 2017 yet but I guess those workers already know the small print – “sorry, but you are no longer our actual employees…”  His HR director pockets more than £1 million a year – money well spent I would say.

It is not just the big chains – smaller operators also have their secrets. One UK chain of luxury properties went bust three years ago when it was found that its charismatic head had fiddled the books by quoting increased property values for its Hotels as profits. Overnight hundreds of people didn’t know if they would be paid that month, and as suppliers pulled out staff were sent out to supermarkets to buy food and drink for functions with petty cash. A friend who worked in this company once told me “I should have got out when the manager told me that they didn’t care about the stock take results”.

Of course, everyone knows that with the Grand Luxury Hotels, the ones you have heard of, ownership is a very rich man’s game. Non-Doms, Sultans and assorted tycoons all have their vanity projects in London and around the world. In these cases the staff will pay their taxes, the owners – well, less so, sometimes even the Hotel will get away with tax avoidance.

Another set of owners are the big banks – one company I know that specialises in luxury, and is headed by a true Hotelier, can only say that it owns a fraction of its hotels – the rest being leased from the same bank that finances it. So if you are working away trying to pay down that mortgage or overdraft, chances are your ultimate boss is the same bank sending you those stern letters. Ironic no?

You’re Welcome

Another new blogger joins the fold...this time, a Bartender..

The dichotomy between craft and diplomacy, and the levels of pay and treatment – Part One by "Giovannino"

“Hell, you should be selling Bugattis!"*

I smile at what is a compliment from the group of off-duty business types around the table. That’s a new one, although being fairly good at this job, I do get compliments from guests: “Why aren’t you in charge?, “We’ve had so much fun!”, “You’ve made today so special…”

It is these comments that can make your day. Of course, there are other ones too, the worst being the perennial “I’m so glad we got the only English waiter…” or “We haven’t seen an English person all day…”

I usually try to keep it light, as shouting “Really? Define English you ignorant prick!” would probably not go down too well. “London is a world city” said with a smile, or “Well if they wanted the job, they would apply…” keep smiling, always keep smiling.

Working in Hotels Restaurants and Bars in London is like travelling the world without going through customs. Your guests come from every corner of the planet, with every religion, every creed, every positive and negative human trait exposed. You can easily build up a prejudice towards, say the Saudis who come in August, the vacationing Americans or the Russians who come to splurge around Christmas time. To be honest, after a few years your mind is either wide open or very closed indeed. And then there are your fellow workers …

“Bienvenuto alla Republica di Bar!” Welcome to the Republic of The Bar – that was my first introduction to working in London Five Stars. My new job was in one of the most prestigious Bars in one of the worlds most famous hotels, lets just call it The Splendide. I was the first Brit to work there in a decade, and, in the way of things, almost everyone else was Italian. I learned quickly how to count, order and swear like a Roman. I discovered the true art of making Coffee, I also found out the difference between Genova and Napoli, and how the accent of Palermo is different to Messina. My name was Italianised to Giovannino – little John.

All this for half what I had been earning outside London, just £8,000 a year. There was no service charge, but the tips, both cash and credit cards were phenomenal, and all administered with the Bar, with a clear points system, and HMG getting its percentage (tips are taxed as “unearned income” in the UK, although I have yet to find anyone from a Tax Office willing to swap jobs for a week…). Everything went into the pot, and at the end of the month we all came out alright. The first six months were very hard, as I adjusted to the levels of service and workload required, but I was truly learning a craft – although one that is at best still defined as “semi-skilled” by people who rate these things.

“Semi-skilled” my arse. Let me see you manage a station of twelve tables on a busy Thursday night, when you have a queue at the door, the Bar is four deep already and that Hen party has just ordered eight Mojitos. The German businessmen on table six are trying to buy a drink for the two ladies on table five, believing that they are escorts (they aren’t, and we don’t allow this, so I will have to inform the ladies, and also politely decline for them, leaving no hard feelings). A Hollywood star is sitting in the middle of this, and I would love to move him to an alcove, just so he gets some privacy, but the alcove won’t be free for at least ten minutes, and everybody wants it…

 …We are heaving- with that glorious mix of young and old, of The City and Westminster, Old money, New money and Once in a Lifetime guests here for that special occasion – a Birthday, an Anniversary, or just because they can, just this once, know luxury. And EVERYONE should be treated as if they are the star. A famous writer scowls on as he drinks his Champagne with his Aristocratic writer wife – don’t worry, he always scowls, Mr Grumpy, both egalitarian and snob.

After what seems like a lifetime, but in reality is only three hours, we start to wind down. 

As we close the bar – mopping up, polishing, filling in the orders for tomorrow and cashing up, a tall distinguished gentleman walks in, looking for a nightcap. He is actually the Lord Chancellor, the highest most powerful legal official in the land. However he is not staying in the Hotel: “I am terribly sorry milord, but we can only serve Hotel residents at this time” with a smile “Ah, quite so…”

                                       No Michael, no drink for you.

Or was it no drink for YOU Charles Falconer?

 or was it you Lord Irvine, Blair's first employer and the initiator of the proliferation of Zero Hours Contracts in the UK?

Either way, no special treatment when it comes to Hotel rules

This man once had lunch at The Ivy (so the rumour service has it), and had such a good time that at six in the evening he complained about the lack of food, and had to be reminded that he had eaten it already, four hours previously. Within two years, the licensing laws are relaxed. No skill was required at all this evening. You’re welcome.

 The Republic of The Bar indeed…

 *A Bugatti is a sports car