by Josh Bernoff

This week I stayed at the worst hotel in midtown. It was hilariously bad. I learned something about service, too.

The Manhattan Broadway has only location going for it. But rooms were tight during Advertising Week in New York and I misread the star rating. Shame on me. Two minutes at TripAdvisor and I would have known better, but I was in a rush, and at the price (more than $300 a night) I assumed it was a decent quality place.

Here's all I need in a hotel: a firm bed, a lock on the door, high-speed Internet access, and quiet and darkness at night. I got the first two.

The minute I walked in the door, I smiled. I could tell what was coming. The bare drywall of the long dark hallway was marked "please pardon our appearance," a notation I thought applied very well to the tattooed guy at a PC at the end of the hall. (This PC and another one were the "Internet cafe".) Things went predictably from there. My night at the Manhattan Broadway included:

• Windows with no curtains; light shining in from the airshaft all night long.

  

• No glasses in the bathroom or room.
• A bathtub that at one time had been a jacuzzi, but the holes were filled up with cement.
• Wireless Internet access ("No refunds") which of course didn't work. (The $3 charge should have warned me -- just enough to be not worth arguing about.)
• Towels the size and consistency of sandpaper.
• A rock band practicing outside my window until late at night. When I called the desk to ask how long this was going to go on, they actually had an answer -- this was clearly a regular occurrence.

I found myself more bemused than angry. The reason: this hotel delivered on its brand promise, which apparently is, "be just barely good enough to prevent people from asking their credit card company for a refund." It did not disappoint: it promised to be a dump, and it was a dump. A Hyatt once disappointed me. But the Hyatt people care, and they made up for it. These people didn't care.

Who works in a place like this? It was clear from talking to the desk staff that their job is to listen to complaints all day long and shrug and offer explanations like "the other hotels near us are more expensive." What a soul-destroying job this must be. Those of us who write about marketing and service assume we are talking to people who care. What happens to the people who don't? What if your job is "find suckers and charge as much as possible" ? Are there business writers to serve people like that? Where do they learn to run a business like that? Can they actually survive in a world where only disconnected and ignorant people (which, on the night in question, included me) are their clientele?

Hyatt noticed my earlier post. If someone from this hotel notices my post, I'll die of shock.

Just to bring the point home, when I got home after my trip, a package was waiting for me. A marketing executive from Barilla Pasta, whom I'd met in Milan, had sent me a little something as a thank you for the conversation I'd shared with him. There, on my doorstep, was a variety of Barilla-branded pasta and baked goods from Italy -- easy for him to share, but what could be more meaningful than good food from Italy? Every bite reminds me of the clever things Barilla is doing online in Italy with online marketing.

If you're working for somebody like that, stay. If not, start looking.

by Josh Bernoff

I'm now on my first trip to Asia, Tokyo and Seoul specifically. I was avid to bring our idea to the people here, but I had a problem. In 50 years of being alive I had never tried Japanese or Korean food. It's not that I didn't like it, I just had no experience and a little fear.

So I reached out to Twitter and asked for help.

About a month before my trip, I suggested a deal -- if you're in Boston, I'll take you dinner at the Japanese or Korean restaurant of your choice. You explain the food, I'll try to provide interesting conversation.

As @jbernoff, I have 7,000 Twitter followers. Interestingly, this tweet generated exactly two takers, one for each type of food. Jeana Lee Tahnk (@jeanatahnk) brought her sister along -- they're of Korean background, and her sister had actually spent a year in Korea. Jeana is a PR person. Sean R. Brooks (@seanrbrooks), who runs the social applications at TechTarget, did the honors for Japanese food. And you know, I liked most of it! (Not a big fan of kimchee.)

What I find interesting about this is, amid all the discussion about the downside and risk of social networks, this worked fine -- in fact it was great. Why? Because although I didn't know Sean and Jeana and most of my followers, I could find out about them. When they responded, I could easily check them out and see if I wanted to spend an evening with them. From their various online profiles they seemed like reasonable and interesting people, and they sure were. You can use social networks to meet valuable strangers, but just be careful what you broadcast, and use the available info to check people out.

Can you do this?

I'm sure you're saying "sure, Josh, but you have 7000 followers". Well, I started with no followers two years ago, just like everyone else. If you want 7000 followers, you've got to start -- and you've got to say something interesting. But if you invest the time, you'll create an asset that's not just something to reap for publicity, but a collection of people you can tap, just ask I did, for whatever help you need. But you won't get there unless you actually start.

By the way, for all the sophisticates out there who feel everyone knows this, in talking to corporate America, they mostly don't. Just trying to raise a little consciousness.

By the way #2, now that I'm here, I find out the real problem isn't the food, it's how to work the toilet control in the hotel room!

by Josh Bernoff

As a young man I was a science fiction fan. Not just a reader, a fan who went to conventions (“cons”), gathered in weekly or monthly meetings and argued arcana, sought autographs and bought fan art.

Among fans there was a ubiquitous argument. Many believed fervently that Fandom Is A Way Of Life (FIAWOL). Their lives revolved around their fan activities. Others responded that Fandom Is Just A God Damn Hobby (FIJAGDH). They loved to be fans, but their lives had other things going on, too.

FIAWOL types had jobs, but often had trouble getting ahead since their attention was elsewhere. Unless, of course, your job was in publishing or bookselling, but those jobs paid poorly. FIJAGDH believers were more likely to get ahead. They were also more likely to drift out of the fannish orbit. As I did.

As I see people immersing themselves in social technology I am reminded of this argument. Are you twittering all the time? Blogging every thought? Keeping up with every discussion about your topic? If this is your full-time job, you're like the fans who landed the jobs in publishing -- good for you. If not, your boss, your coworkers, and maybe your customers are wondering why you're not fully there, even when you're with them. If you're working at Facebook maybe social is a way of life (SIAWOL?). Not sure if that applies if you're at Best Buy or Accenture.

I'm not arguing you should give up social media. Staying connected is terrific. I'm blogging, twittering, facebooking and emailing (yes, that too) frequently. But it's not a way of life, it's a useful communications tool. (Would you ever say "email is a way of life?") I love to connect in these social worlds. I also like to take a moment to step back and think once in a while, instead of being caught up in the whirlpool at every moment. And whether it's a client engagement, a briefing, an event, or just a discussion in the hallway, I try to be fully present. People seem to appreciate it, and I learn things from those other interactions, just as I learn them within the groundswell.

Do you have trouble with this balance? How do you sort it out? I'm avidly interested in your answers.

Photo by Time Portal via Flickr

by Josh Bernoff

Based on several comments on recent posts people are a little confused about why the Groundswell blog should be writing about "hilariously bad travel" and PR emailers practices.

So let me explain myself.

First of all, I recognize that there are worse problems in the world than bad hotel rooms and irrelevant email. Even so, I believe these are symptoms of a broader trend, one that is the purview of the Groundswell.

That trend is that computers have made it far easier for marketers -- and service people -- to treat people in masses. The countervailing trend is the groundswell, which empowers us to connect as humans. So I am trying to help marketers and those who serve the public to find ways to treat people more like a human.

I believe three things:

1. A blog can make a difference. So this is an applied experiment in the groundswell in action. If Jeff Jarvis can change Dell with Dell Hell and Ruth K can write about the suffering of being a Jet Blue Hostage, why shouldn't I try to change the PR and travel industries? (I'm already seeing evidence that PR emailers are thinking a little more about those emails.)
2. Analysis helps. Why not shine a light on people's behavior? Is it typical? Is it unreasonable? What are the best practices? I am a researcher, so when I experience something, I often say "hmm, why is that like that?" And I'm interested in your perspectives.
3. It's absurd. That's why I'm only writing about "hilariously bad" travel -- the kind that makes you chuckle at its ineptitude. And when you see some of the hilariously irrelevant emails I receive from PR people, you'll have the same reaction. Instead of turning to the guy at the next desk and saying "look at this silly thing" I'm telling you, in the hopes you might at least smile a little.

I'm trying not to take this too seriously. If you want to call it whining, so be it. I call it turning annoyance into thought, discussion, and who knows, maybe even positive change.

Are you with me? Or should I just talk about the data and research I do and leave off with the rest of this "how to be a human" stuff?