The story below was originally posted in 2011. Re-edited, I think it still stands as an opinion about how quickly a guest’s opinion of their hotel stay experience can be influenced by one bad step.

I’m quite a fan of Hyatt Hotels—or at least they are the international chain hotel group that I remain faithful to.

Where it started

It all started when I stayed at the Grand Hyatt, then considered the best hotel in Melbourne. My relationship with Hyatt was cemented after a week-long stay at the Park Hyatt in Tokyo. (you need a view of Mt Fuji from your window).

What won me over was the tray of coffee delivered each morning – at a time of our liking, with a handwritten note detailing the day’s weather. The real skill was the waiter delivering the tray without once looking directly into the room.

The loyalty points from those two weeks in Japan allowed me room upgrades from standard to club room; or from club to suite on every subsequent stay until I ran out of points. I’ve done it in Shanghai, Melbourne and Auckland.

So if not a Hyatt fan, at least a Hyatt faithful.

No longer in love

But I think that we might be falling out of love.

The phone booking agent recently offered an upgrade to a refurbished suite at the Grand Hyatt Melbourne.

But on arrival, the upgrade was to a rather old, sad, tatty, unrefurbished room—you know, the kind—with scratches on all the woodwork and ingrained stains in the Draylon-covered lounge.

Questions were asked, apologies were made, free champagne and strawberries, and an à la carte breakfast was made complimentary. My ill feelings were assuaged.

It’s never over until someone sings

However, the denouement was not so pleasant. The final bill—you know, the ones that are put under the door—was entirely inaccurate. The only correct line was the bed-night charge.

We had been erroneously charged for drinks (“I’ll reverse that for you now”), charged for coffee during our comped breakfast, and multiple charges for internet access on the same day, etc.

All that work done by the very accommodating assistant manager, Ryan, was undone with one inaccurate piece of paper.

2PAXfly Takeout

It wasn’t so much the mistakes on the bill as that slight air of distrust—like you really had drained the mini-bar and not admitted it—that rankled.

One mistake undid all the praiseworthy previous interactions.

Maybe it’s the Japanese grace I miss.