What observations from a hotel lobby can you about hospitality
It’s Saturday morning and I’m sitting in the lobby of the Palace Hotel Tokyo waiting for my colleagues Andrew and Linard to return from what was supposed to be a brief shopping expedition. Hours earlier, there was a flurry of messages plotting out a grand plan for the day (with all involved trying to sound perkier than the rest). Why we were all putting on heroic faces I have no idea, as we were all complicit in the late-night Ginza smokes, champs and sing-along session, and we all knew full well how late things went and how rough the wake-up was going to be.
Nevertheless, we all went along with the little charade. Though I decided to grab another 30 minutes of sleep while the others made their way through the well-stocked racks of United Arrows. I made remarkably good progress and was in position in the lobby well before the agreed time. I found a comfy chair near the front doors and was going to read the FT or catch up on emails when I spotted an elegant older woman daintily stepping out of a gleaming Toyota Alphard in a brilliant blue kimono. She was assisted by one of the bellmen through the sliding doors, and as she entered the lobby a silver-haired gentleman in a morning suit greeted her with a bow and a formal-sounding salutation. Was he her husband? Brother? A distant relative? The woman made a few apologies before the pair started laughing and disappeared in the direction of the Palace’s sprawling café.
I glanced around the rest of the lobby to get a fix on what else was happening. Judging by the number of black-clad photographers and hair and make-up assistants, there must have been no fewer than 10 weddings on the go. Out of another Alphard stepped a bride in full gown escorted by a small entourage in charge of keeping her hair fluffy, shoulders covered and dress off the ground. The day before it was glorious sunshine and 20C in Tokyo but today it was gusty, rainy and less than ideal for tying the knot. And yet all seemed cheery in the lobby with a bit of light bossa playing in the background and the Palace’s battalion of staffers going about all the tasks that keep a large-scale, five-star property humming. I was about to check the time when a message popped up on my screen saying that my colleagues were about to pay for their purchases and would soon be walking back. “No stress”, I responded. I was so thoroughly enjoying my perch and observing the comings of various nationalities and dandy Tokyoites that I could’ve happily ordered a coffee and then moved on to lunch.
But as an Austrian family seemed to be celebrating some kind of reunion and a group of young Japanese women, also in kimonos, assembled near the reception stand of the restaurant while waiting to be seated, I was struck by a series of questions: What’s become of the grand lobby in the planning of modern hotels? Where are the porters, desk clerks, cashiers and telephonists? The florists on ladders and liveried housekeepers with giant feather dusters? And where are all the guests coming and going, meeting and greeting, sneaking in and slinking out? If I think about all the new hotels I’ve visited of late, the lobby as a place to watch the world swirl by has all but vanished. Space once given to fountains, sofas and palms is now retail. The capable staff have largely been replaced by people who want to manage your stay via Whatsapp. I rather enjoy checking in to such establishments and completely throwing a clerk by saying, “I don’t use Meta products.” Then I watch their face fall. How have we arrived at a place where a note under the door or a phone call will no longer suffice as a trusty form of communication?
Anyway, no matter, we can explore this topic in detail another day. Andrew and Linard have returned victorious from their shopping adventure and a full weekend in Tokyo awaits. Sadly, I must leave my lobby perch. More soon.
