HOTELS give simple things complicated names to justify ripping you off. Here are the most pretentious culprits:
Nothing about the name ‘mini-bar’ lives up to its name. Instead of a scale model of a bar, complete with a little bartender who pours you tiny pints and listens to your woes as he cleans a minuscule glass, it’s a fridge with a glass door. And the only things inside are Snickers that cost a fiver.
Tea & coffee making facilities
What the hotel meant to say is: ‘there’s a mini kettle on a tray with some dusty cups and UHT milk pots. Have at it.’ Instead you got your hopes up that there would be an industrial-sized coffee machine and a trained barista on hand to serve you cappuccinos, even though you’re only paying £29 per night.
While this sounds glamorous, in reality you’re getting the hotel to send a minimum wage employee to your room to make your bed. On top of completing a task which you should have been taught to do as a child, said worker will also pick your soiled underwear off the floor and fold your towels into a rudimentary swan. They deserve to be called heroes.
A phrase that makes it sound as if the hotel comes complete with an entire water park, bowling alley, and Go Kart track. All the owners have done is fill a basement with treadmills and dumbbells bought second-hand from a nearby prison. They’d have bought the pool too but forensics still need it as evidence.
‘Do not disturb’ signs
‘Piss off’ would be more to-the-point. If they were completely truthful they’d read: ‘There’s a businessman from Nantwich masturbating to pay-per-view pornography in here, please do not enter.’ It’s clunky, though.
This is simply just a way for hotels to make you pay double the price for a slightly larger room. In what world would any president have ever stayed in a Travelodge in Dorking? Even if they were fugitives from justice they’d stay at an Airbnb for the privacy.
You imagine yourself sitting in front of a colossal 4D IMAX screen, with the latest video game consoles laid out before you. Try to contain your disappointment when you realise the media centre is in fact a 14-inch portable television bolted into a corner you can’t see from the bed.