Thursday, May 14, 2009
So, I board my American Airlines flight in Miami, scheduled to depart for Dallas-Fort Worth at 10:10 a.m. But the pilot comes on the PA and informs us there are thunderstorms in Dallas, directly over the airport, and there’s a ground hold. There are no flights going into DFW; everything is stopped. We’re told initially that we’ll take off at 11:30 a.m., then it’s moved to 12:20 p.m. I whip out my laptop to see what that means for my connection, scheduled for around 1 p.m. from DFW to San Francisco. According to the American Airlines website, it’s on time.
I figure the website just hasn’t been updated, but then I check to see where the flight is coming from. It turns out it’s coming from Dulles, and it took off on time at—wait for it—10:10 a.m. That’s right, a flight from the East Coast—where I am—scheduled to leave at exactly the same time as my Miami flight bound for an airport with a ground hold due to thunderstorms was not subject to the ground hold, will land on time, and then leave on its next leg on time.
But wait…weren’t we told there was a ground hold for all air traffic bound for DFW?
This just smells bad.
As it turns out, the earliest flight out of DFW that isn’t completely booked is as 7:30 p.m., so I got off the plane and got myself onto a 3:30 p.m. nonstop from Miami to SFO, leaving me plenty of time to sit and write this post about the inconsistent information American Airlines tells its passengers as though there’s no way those passengers can investigate and find out just how inconsistent it is.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I’m sitting in the food court in Chicago O’Hare’s K Terminal; I just arrived from Washington Reagan National on a flight that was delayed 90 minutes due to weather here in the (ahem) Windy City.
As an aside, I’d love to meet the genius who decided Chicago was a good place for a major hub airport. Indianapolis is closer to the center of the country and has far fewer weather problems. I’d pay real money to talk for just five minutes to whoever made that call.
But I digress.
I’m connecting to a flight to Kansas City that was scheduled to depart at 8:45 p.m. and showing on-time when we left Reagan. We arrived short of the gate at 8:25 and waited for a ground crew to guide us in. They finally arrived, then we waited for a gate agent to move the jetway into position.
As I deplaned (how company nobody ever debuses or deboats?), I asked the gate agent if it was possible to call the gate for the Kansas City flight to let them know I was on my way. I have Platinum status with American and I’m delivering a keynote talk at 8 a.m. tomorrow (Thursday) morning; this flight is the only way I can get there short of taking a flight into St. Louis and driving to Kansas City from there. (I can’t tell you how many times one of my flights has sat at the gate because, according to the pilot or flight attendant, we’re waiting for a connecting passenger. Yet never, not once, has a plane waited for me.)
The gate agent told me she had to stay on the jetway and the jetway phone only connected her to other G gates. After some prodding, she finally tried to call another G gate so they could contact the agent at the Kansas City gate here in the K terminal.
But nobody answered. Finally, a fellow passenger waiting in the jetway for her carry-on bag, asked if I had the flight number. It told her what it was and she punched it into her smartphone. (I would have done this myself except that I’d sapped my phone’s battery talking to Orbitz and American about alternate routes to Kansas City while sitting on the tarmac in D.C.) In less than a minute, she said, “You’re going to Kansas City? That flight is delayed until 10:40.”
I have never been happier to be on a delayed flight.
But it’s mind-boggling that a passenger with a mobile phone has access to more information than an American Airlines gate agent.
Something is seriously wrong here.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
It was entirely my fault that I arrived at SFO five minutes after the 60-minute-before-departure cutoff time. The seat I had arranged months earlier was given to a standby passenger and I wound up in a middle seat. At least I’d be able to turn the air vent full blast, which (for me) relieves some of the claustrophobia that comes with being squeezed between two strangers. But alas, barely a trickle of air escaped the vents on the entire Airbus 320. I fly a lot—a lot—and I’ve never been on a plane where you couldn’t open the vent and release a gush of cool air onto your face. Not this five-hour flight to Toronto. And nobody had an explanation…or an apology (hardly surprising for Air Canada, one of the surliest of all the airlines). I have never been happier to get off a plane.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
by guest writer Glen Thomas
Glen Thomas, from Memphis Light, Gas, and Water, attended a workshop I taught in New York a few weeks back. He shared this tale by email and gave me permission to post it here.—Shel
I had reservations for Super Shuttle to pick me up. My flight had been delayed getting into La Guardia and I got in three hours later than expected. I called Super Shuttle at 9:30 and they said it would be about 25 minutes. About 35 minutes later, a Super Shuttle employee came in and said “Thomas” and moments later I was on my way. A few others were in the shuttle as well, so I didn’t think anything of it when the driver pulled up to an address in the 84th or 85th street. He then looked at me and said, “Thomas, Talia Thomas?” I told him no and proceeded to tell him at least four times that I was staying on 45th street. He called dispatch and gave them my name and they said they had no record of me. When I produced my confirmation number, they suddenly found my name but said I hadn’t called that night. They didn’t have much to say when I told them the dispatching employee’s name. At 11:30, two hours after I called, I finally got to my hotel, Club Quarters in Midtown.
The Club Quarters price is very good for a location that’s so close to Times Square. That’s all the positive comments I can provide. When I got there, the wi-fi that they advertised was not working. I
called the desk and was advised to “go out into the hall” to try it. I took this advice, and it still didn’t work. Over the course of the next five days, I asked the hotel staff six different times about
the internet access. Each time, they promised to check into it and get back to me. They never did. Luckily, our conference was at the Hilton, and I was able to take my laptop there and quickly get
online.
We requested that the hotel schedule a cab pickup for us the day of our departure. They instead called a pricier car service. We were 10 minutes late getting back, which was completely our fault, but then we waited for another 20 minutes for our luggage to be brought down. When we asked about the length of time it was taking, the indifferent concierge said, “It takes 15 minutes!”
When the employee kept coming down with partial or incorrect luggage, I asked if I could go up to help him identify our bags. They agreed and sent me to…get this…our room! That’s where they were keeping the luggage. Instead of 15 minutes, it was a short walk up the stars on the 2nd floor. The car service tacked on $25 for their wait, and the total cost was $75 to get to La Guardia. With little time to spare, we felt that we no choice but to pay the cost in order to make our flights. Terrible, terrible service.
Posted by Shel in
• Hotels
• Shuttles
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Monday, June 02, 2008
When I’m traveling on business, I rarely pay for my own hotel room. Most business travelers don’t. You may use your own corporate credit card, but you submit the expense for reimbursement. I’m an independent consultant, and I use my own credit card, then add the hotel and other travel expenses to my invoice. Business as usual.
Every now and then, a client books my hotel room for me, and occasionally, one of them actually pays for the room. Such was the case tonight, when I checked into the Westin Providence. I was surprised, though, when I handed the desk clerk my Starwood Preferred card and was told that I would not be credited with any points because somebody else was paying for the room.
I’ve been a business road warrior for nigh on 12 years, and this is the first time I have ever had my affinity card rejected because the client was picking up the tab. Of course, there would have been no question about getting points if my stay was going on my corporate American Express card. Never mind that I’d turn around and invoice my client that cost.
Frankly, I didn’t know until I got here that my client had already picked up the hotel tab. If the fact that I’m spending the night here—me, a member of the rewards program—isn’t enough to credit me with the points (my client isn’t going to get them after all), then I’ll make a point of staying in other hotels that don’t have such absurd policies. That would include—let me see now—all of them except Westin. Way to lose a customer, Starwood.
Monday, March 10, 2008
You may remember that I experienced grief with the so-called high-speed Internet connection at the Hilton Anatole in Dallas, Texas. I’m currently staying at the Hilton in Jackson. The wireless high-speed is fast enough, but there’s another problem.
The service is apparently provided by Nomadix. I can tell because a small browser window that remains open all the time I’m online tells me so:
This graphic refreshes every couple of minutes with a very audible “click.” If the laptop volume is on, this click becomes part of what you’re listening to. Since I’m about to record my podcast over Skype with my co-host, that click will become part of the show.
Was nobody using their brains when configuring this service?
After a long stretch with nothing much to say about my travels, here come two posts, both arising from my current trip to Jackson, Mississippi. I’m here to visit my son, who is stationed at nearby Ft. Shelby and has a short pass before redeploying to Iraq.
My wife and I landed on time (thanks, Southwest) and got our baggage. Then I headed over to the Alamo Rental Car desk; I’d booked an online reservation with Alamo. The line was 10 people long and not moving. There was not one other person at any of the other rental counters. Only one employee was working the Alamo desk and, as it turned out, was also handling the National desk. Everyone in line, as far as I could tell, had made a reservation that included information on when their flights were landing. Alamo knew there would be a surge of customers at that time, yet made no plans for additional personnel to handle the load. I stood in line for 30 minutes—during which two customers completed their transactions—before deciding to pay an extra $100 for our four-day trip and got a car from Budget.
Question for Alamo: Have you ever heard of this concept called “customer service?”
Posted by Shel in
• Rental cars
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Wednesday, January 23, 2008
I’m part of a group that gets together semi-formally to talk about employee communications. Most of the members work for Fortune 100 companies and their travel is covered by their employers. There are a couple of us, though, who were invited to participate based on our expertise; we were also involved in creating the group. So, when the group meets, I pay all expenses on my own nickel.
This time around, the meeting was in Atlanta. It was a lock, a set date. I even coordinated a presentation with another participant. Then, last minute—that being today, with the meeting on Friday—the meeting was postponed. Too many people canceled due to illness or work or personal emergencies.
Rescheduling my flight was one nightmare, costing me about $500 in change fees and fare differences, but that was offset by the unused portion of my original itinerary being put in a bank for my use any time during the next year. With my schedule, I’ll probably use it within the next week. The real killer was the hotel. I booked with the Hilton Suites Atlanta Perimeter. Since I’m using my own money, no reimbursement, I opted for the special non-refundable web rate, pre-charged to my credit card. I called to cancel and found there was no accommodation at all. No putting the money in a bank for another night. No points to my Hilton Honors account (I’m a Silver HHonors VIP, whatever the hell that’s good for), no nothing.
I’m not blaming Hilton, mind you. It was clear when I booked it that it was non-refundable. But I will never, ever, avail myself of that option again. This meeting was a sure thing and yet it isn’t happening, and I’m out $250.80, just because I wanted to save $20 or $30 over a refundable rate. I’d rather pay the higher rate and be able to cancel than risk losing it all. My advice: Stay away from these offers. Under the circumstances, I have to question why the hotels even offer them.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Note to American Airlines: When you change the boarding gate for a flight, it’s a good idea to let your passengers know.
I arrived at O’Hare from SFO and was pleased to find out that the gate for my connecting flight was very close. The gate was announced by the purser. I checked it again with the gate agent. And it was on the departure video screen. So I planted myself at the departure gate, powered up my laptop, and started answering email.
A plane arrived, but boarding didn’t start. The boarding time came and went. I finally went to the desk…and found another flight listed there. I rushed to the video monitor to find my flight had moved to another terminal...and it was already boarding. I ran to the gate and asked if an announcement had been made at the original gate. The gate agent shrugged. The person behind me, panting, said she had been at the other gate, too, and no announcement had been made. Again, the gate agent shrugged.
If other companies treated their customers the way the airlines do, they’d be out of business.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Either people are getting ruder and more thoughtless, or I’m getting less tolerant the more I travel. Here are two recent tales of fellow passengers who deserved to be bitch-slapped for their behavior with their seat backs.
You heard me. Seat backs.
Last week Michele and I were returning from England on a British Air 777 that was less than half full. There were completely empty rows of seats. In fact, there were rows of empty seats with rows of empty seats behind them.
In front of us, the lone passenger in the row moved to the middle seat, obviously relishing the ability to stretch his elbows to the left and the right without hitting a seatmate. But as soon as the pilot turned off the seat belt sign, a woman changed her seat to the aisle seat next to this poor guy, then reclined her seat all the way back, practically into Michele’s lap leaving her about as much room as a sardine has in a tightly packed can. She chose this seat despite the fact that there were at least six or seven rows where she could have had an aisle seat with nobody next to her and nobody behind her.
During the flight, any time I had to stand up, I couldn’t avoid jarring her seat back in my effort to squeeze by. Each time, she turned and gave me a nasty look for disturbing her. She kept the seat reclined for the entire 9-1/2-hour flight, including a good 10 minutes after the announcement asking all passengers to return their seats to the full and upright position.
Right now, I’m on a a US Air Airbus 320 from Phoenix to Kansas City. I’m in the second of three first-class rows, having been upgraded without asking for an upgrade. (This never happens on United, where I’m a million-mile flyer and where I have my miles, but US Air, United’s Star Alliance partner, does it routinely. But I digress.) As soon as the pilot asked flight attendants to take their seats for takeoff, the asshole in front of me reclined his seat as far as it would go; we were still a good seven or eight minutes from takeoff, but he clearly figured that if the flight attendants couldn’t see his seat reclined, then it was just fine to go ahead and recline it.
Update:On landing, Mr. High Regard for My Safety kept his set all the way back, and nobody from the cabin crew looked back to check.
Is it me? Am I getting cranky? Or am I right in thinking people wouldn’t behave to incredibly selfisly 25 years ago and that this kind of cavalier self-centeredness is a relatively new development among travellers?
When I was at the Hilton Anatole in Dallas last week, I paid $10.95 for high-speed, broadband Internet access, a hard-wired ethernet connection in the room. I needed it to record my podcast—my co-host, Neville Hobson is in the U.K., and Skype is our method of recording.
The Net connection was so bad, so slow, that we could not hear each other over Skype, and we finally gave up. Then I tried to get my email. The connection was so slow that I couldn’t get one message. I disconnected from the hotel line and popped in my Sprint wireless broadband card and got my email with no problem.
When I checked out later, I told the clerk at the front desk how awful the connection was. “I’ve heard that,” he said. “Sorry.” He did not offer to refund the $10.95.
The Hilton Anatole is a nice hotel. I won’t be staying there again.
And can somebody explain why the pricier hotels charge for Internet access while the cheaper ones (like Fairfield Inns) do not? Especially when they’re managed by the same groups (Hilton, Marriott, etc.)?
Sunday, October 14, 2007
I had just deplaned from my flight to Denver from Oakland and checked my email on my Treo. I was delighted to see a message from United confirming that I had been upgraded to first class on my flight from Denver to Washington, D.C. (A screen shot of the salient part of the email appears below).
I got to my gate and waited my turn, happily ready to exchange my coach boarding pass for one in first. I told the gate agent about the email. She shook her head, tapped a few keys, then shook her head again. “I have no idea what that’s about,” she said. “First class was booked full and has checked in full.”
Now, understand: Even though I’m a United million-mile flyer, I have no expectation of upgrades. I book my seats in coach and am happy to sit there. But sending me an email telling me my upgrade request has been fulfilled raised my expectations, only to have them dashed a short while later. It is, in my opinion, inexcusable.
How could such mixed messages happen? Is it that one system doesn’t talk to another?
In any case, I called Customer Relations when I got to my hotel, but they’re closed on weekends. (I guess nobody flies and needs customer relations if it isn’t Monday through Friday.) So I tried the Premiere Executive number, where I was told to wait until tomorrow to talk to Customer Relations.
So I’ve spoke today with a gate agent, a flight attendant, and the Premier Executive desk, each of whom passed the buck and none of whom offered an apology. We’ll see what happens tomorrow when I call Customer Relations to ask for (a) an explanation, (b) an apology, and (c) assurance that the system-wide upgrade certificate is put back into my account. I’m not hoping for much.
In any case, I have learned a couple lessons about United today:
- Never rely on or trust an email from United. They could be completely false.
- The loyalty involved in flying a million true miles with United doesn’t matter to United.
- When you get screwed over by United, nobody at United seems to care very much.
It’s true what they say: You have a choice of carriers when you fly. To be honest, I’ve been avoiding United for the last year or so when I can. Today’s experience only confirms that this is a good idea.
Special note to Craig Jolley: Yeah, yeah, I know, I know…
Michele and I were on our way to San Francisco International when the programmed call came from Orbitz: “This is Orbitz calling with a flight cancellation alert.” Our early-morning flight to Dallas had been cancelled.
This was more of an issue than it usually is. We were on our way to the UK, primarily so I could speak at the annual meeting of the Society of American Travel Writers. Because the SATW negotiated ridiculously low air fares for attendees, there were a number of rules we had to follow, one of which was leaving from and returning to the same airport. Since I had to be in Dallas immediately after the SATW gig, we had to fly from Dallas in order to return there. Our British Air flight was set for fourish, so I had arranged the American flight to Dallas in order to ensure we had enough time to make the connection.
I called Orbitz first, which referred me to American, since this was the actual day of the flight. American told me the next flight to Dallas was oversold (a practice I despise, by the way); the next available flight was a connection through Orange County, arriving about 45 minutes before the UK flight departed. Any delay would cause us to miss our flight, and it would be iffy for our bags making the connection even if we did get there on time.
By the time we arrived at the airport, I was on the phone with British Air to find out what would happen if we missed the flight. Because the fare was so low, the answer was simple: The ticket would be cancelled. I called American again to see if they could put us on another carrier, but none got to Dallas any earlier than the one going first to Orange County.
Waiting in line at the American ticket counter, a thought struck me. I called American again and asked, “What about Oakland?” Oakland International Airport is just across the bay from SFO. Indeed, it turned out there was a flight that would get us there more than two hours early, and there were seats available. Why, I wondered, did I need to think of this?
I got to the counter where an American Airlines ticket agent very kindly helped make the change, ensuring we still had our return flight from Dallas to SFO. Then she handed me a taxi voucher, explaining that it was American’s fault the flight was cancelled (the plane had been removed from service) and that American would pick up the tab for the cab ride across the bay. That’s Michele holding the voucher below. (We had to leave our car at SFO for a couple reasons: We were returning to SFO and we had arranged 12 days of free parking at Park ‘N Fly using points earned from participating in the loyalty program…not transferable to Oakland.)
We got down to the cab line where not a single cabbie would honor the voucher. Each one had a different reason. There was no amount on it. They hadn’t seen one before. Their dispatcher wouldn’t let them. So it was $90 to get from SFO to Oakland.
We did make our flight to the UK, but it was no thanks to any of the travel providers involved. And if American ever gives you a taxi voucher, think twice before thanking them. It isn’t worth the paper on which it’s printed.
Posted by Shel in
• Cabs
• Online travel services
• Planes
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Tuesday, August 21, 2007
If you live in the San Francisco East Bay, your options for a shared-ride shuttle to either Oakland International or San Francisco International is East Bay Connection. I’d rather walk. Hell, I’d rather not go. Three terrible experiences are all I need to make sure I always have another way to get to the airport.
Strike 1: I had a reservation on an East Bay Connection shuttle to get home from Oakland Int’l. I got to the shuttle to find one other passenger slumped in the back seat looking glum. I settled into the van and waited…for nearly two hours. Other passengers with reservations were on delayed flights and the driver was not allowed by his dispatcher to take us home. They could easily have sent another driver to wait for the delayed passengers, but that evidently would have cost them too much, so the decision was made that it was better to make their customers suffer.
Strike 2: I had a reservation on a shuttle to get me to SFO. The reservation agent gave me my pickup time and the shuttle driver was waiting, right on time. I got into an empty shuttle. “Just me?” I asked? “No,” he said, “I have to pick up five more passengers.” He told me where they all lived. I did some calculations, then asked, “Will you get me to the airport by 6 a.m.?” That would give me an hour to go through security and get to my flight. The driver shook his head. “Not a chance.” I had to have him turn around and take me back home so I could drive myself to the airport. On the way I called East Bay Connection and asked, “What the hell?” “Sir,” I was told, “this is a shared ride service.” “I know that,” I replied, “but I should have been picked up early enough to ensure I wouldn’t miss my flight. What good is a shared ride service if it can’t get me to the airport in time to make my flight? Why do you even ask what time my flight is leaving when I make my reservation if you’re not going to schedule my pickup in time to get me there??” I just got belligerence from the shuttle representative.
Strike 3: On my way home from Chicago last week, I ran into a friend on the same flight. He had an East Bay Connection reservation to get home, but I offered him a ride. It would be faster (he wouldn’t have to wait while the shuttle dropped off four other people) and it would be fun to catch up. We got down to baggage claim at SFO and he called East Bay Connection to let them know he wouldn’t be riding with them. “We’ll charge your credit card anyway,” he was told. He was flabbergasted. “What if my trip got extended? What if my flight was cancelled and I had to spend the night in Chicago?” “We’d charge your card for the missed reservation,” he was told. He wound up taking the shuttle.
Some companies just don’t understand the advantage of making your customers happy instead of miserable. With all the flights I take each year, East Bay Connection is out probably $1,000 in revenue this year alone, and I’ll bet I’m not the only one who has decided it’s better to pay exorbidant airport parking that suffer another experience with these losers.
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I travel for work. I have no fear of flying. I have a paralyzing fear of baggage claim. No matter how successful any given trip may be, there's always some travel provider -- an airline, a hotel, a cab company, somebody who will add a bit of misery to the experience. It's inevitable. I need a place to vent, to kvetch, to complain. This is it. Welcome to my life on the road. If you need to know any more than this, I have a business web site and a blog dedicated to the work I do, and you're welcome to visit either or both. But this blog, this blog is just about business travel. And it isn't pretty.
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