diana cowgill

UPDATE:

We got a full refund

Kyle and I stayed at a really awful hotel, which inspired me to write a strongly worded letter. I am optimistic that my fury will earn me something wonderful. I’ll report back on my results!

Dear Sheraton Hotels,

I have had an experience with your hotel that horrified me. I hope you feel the same shock at the misery of my hours spent at your Washington DC establishment.

I have stayed at Sheratons before, and have found them to be absolutely terrific. Nice beds, lovely décor, unimpeachable bathrooms. But this Sheraton fell far short of my expectations, and I demand retribution.

You see, the love of my life and I were in town for a wedding. We’re neither of us wealthy, but we thought that flying across the country and splurging a bit on decent hotels would be worth it for the experience. Invest in the adventure, as it were. He wanted to go very low budget, I told him over my dead body, and so we booked at reputable hotel brands. Holiday Inns, Marriots, Westins, and of course, the glorious Sheraton.

We had been to several of the, we expected, lesser hotels, and had been wonderfully pleased. Slept well, kept clean. We are not by nature demanding and we had all that we needed. We were happy. But we were not blown away. Because the true luxury experience still awaited us. The Sheraton still awaited us. We were going to the Sheraton, The Sheraton! and we were going to live like royalty. Kyle had been very excited as he promised me that this night would be the one. The best night, and I ought to prepare myself for impeccable.

So imagine our disappointment when we were greeted with a badly neglected closet of a hotel room. The first bit of doubt crept in when I walked into a bathroom littered with broken appliances. There was a badly pitted and rusted soap dish sitting on the side of the tub. It looked like it would have given us tetanus had we been cut by any of its sharp edges, so we let it be. The tub’s faucet had an impressively ugly, cracked piece of plastic to mark its control temperature. I thought to myself, hmmm, this could be improved upon. We must have landed one of the rooms that has yet to be updated. But I thought, that’s fine. It’s not perfect, but it’s okay. We’ll be transported back to the early 90’s for a night and it’ll add a bit of color in the retelling of the trip.

I started the water for a shower, and that was when my mild irritation took a turn. The bathtub had one temperature: screaming hot. I had Kyle come in, and together we fiddled. Moved all the knobs in all the ways and got the same result each time. Scalding hot water. This is ridiculous, we said. We’re filthy dirty and we need to take a shower. So we called the front desk. It’s unusable, we said. The water is unbearably hot and we need help right away. Help would not come, they said. Maintenance is not here and the hotel is fully booked- no way to transfer. I was displeased. But, they said, we will give you a couple of bottles of water. No charge. What they thought this would do? It escapes me. Was this just the world’s worst attempt at bribery? But we were there, by that time seething victims rather than guests of your hotel, so we did what we had to do. Ran scalding baths cooled down with ice from the inconveniently located ice machine and shot for a temperature that wouldn’t poach us.

I stomped around the room for some time after the bath, complaining to Kyle about all of the ways that I had thus far been failed, when I realized how tacky and unpleasant the carpet felt on my bare feet. Yuck, I said, and good night. I plugged in my cell phone and went to bed.

Upon waking, I realized that my phone had not charged due to the room’s malfunctioning plug, and I vowed to complain my heart out to the front desk. We deserve a voucher, I told Kyle. This place has bungled one time too many.

I told the (very nice) woman at the front desk all that had happened to us. She was very sympathetic, remarking that the block of rooms we were in weren’t the hotel’s nicest. She was mortified at the unpleasantness of our experience, and asked very earnestly what she could do. If we would like a complimentary meal, or validated parking, or some other on-campusextravagance? I declined. It was our time to go, to flee, if I’m being honest. But I could be mollified with a free night at a different Sheraton. Our blissful holiday had been negatively touched by this abysmal resort, but a future night in a superior Sheraton could redeem the chain in the eyes of the injured pair. She refused. Claiming such a request was impossible.

So I have been forced to resort to penning you a strongly worded, deeply felt letter of disappointment. I cannot recommend a Sheraton, as I would never stay in a Sheraton. I have been soured, but give you the opportunity to right this wrong and regain a valuable friend and ally.

I anticipate and appreciate your generous offer of appeasement.

Thank you,

Diana Conway

**** I might have implied that I was a doctor when I actually sent this ****