Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Wherefore Art Thou, Gopher?
Last December my family went on a cruise to celebrate my parents' 40th anniversary. I know, that's not the best way to start out an Everyday Hogwash rant--I went on a cruise, pity me--but you expect things to be wonderful on a cruise (shuffleboard on the Lido Deck with Gopher and Isaac, for instance), so the disappointments come hard. And when 95% of the cruise is wonderful (and considering you've brought your aging parents along, that's saying a lot), the disappointments come doubly hard.
The first days of the trip were great. Perfect weather in southern California (which the cruise people had nothing to do with, but still--), great food, Branko the European waiter who said "Pleazhure" in response to "Thank you," fuzzy towels folded into animal shapes along with the turn-down service. In fact, everything up to the final evening couldn't have been better.
Cruising from Baja to Los Angeles overnight is quite a trek. On the one hand we were really bookin'. On the other, seas were rough and stomachs were churning as fast as the screws propelling us homeward. I'm not complaining about the speedy travel, but a Dramamine amongst the chocolate squares on the pillow would've been a nice touch.
Back in L.A. is where the trouble really began. Departures started somewhere around eight o'clock or so. I don't know for sure because our debarking voucher said 10:30. Of course, when there's nothing to do on the ship, it suddenly becomes as exciting as a proctologist's waiting room. Only with fewer magazines (which you really don't want to touch anyway, so never mind). Gift shops were closed. Restaurants closed. Casino, bars, Lido Deck shuffleboard? You got it: less than open. You couldn't even stay in your room and watch the tube because housekeeping was making it up for the guests arriving that afternoon. When the water in the bathrooms got turned off at eleven o'clock, people started getting as hot as the Pollo Mazatlan on Mexican night.
It didn't have to be that way Big Cruise Ship Company. Offer another class on line dancing, another round of TV-theme song trivia. You've got a huge theater on your boat: show a movie. Or some fifteen-minute short films, cartoons, southern California travelogues (heck, I bet the Leno people could whip up some "Best of" stuff and pay you to show it) -- anything so people are entertained, yet not so much they don't get off the ship when it's their turn.
But that's not the way you played it. No, you took your 15% gratuities the night before and stowed Gopher and your customer service in the ship's hold. When 11:30 rolled around, you blamed the delay on Customs (as if the new Homeland Security rules had just been handed down and you had no chance to run off revised departure schedules on the Xerox machine in your Business Center). Once I'm on the pier at San Pedro, I become Customs' problem. Until then I'm your customer. Please treat me that way.
(I know ... cry, cry, cry.)
The first days of the trip were great. Perfect weather in southern California (which the cruise people had nothing to do with, but still--), great food, Branko the European waiter who said "Pleazhure" in response to "Thank you," fuzzy towels folded into animal shapes along with the turn-down service. In fact, everything up to the final evening couldn't have been better.
Cruising from Baja to Los Angeles overnight is quite a trek. On the one hand we were really bookin'. On the other, seas were rough and stomachs were churning as fast as the screws propelling us homeward. I'm not complaining about the speedy travel, but a Dramamine amongst the chocolate squares on the pillow would've been a nice touch.
Back in L.A. is where the trouble really began. Departures started somewhere around eight o'clock or so. I don't know for sure because our debarking voucher said 10:30. Of course, when there's nothing to do on the ship, it suddenly becomes as exciting as a proctologist's waiting room. Only with fewer magazines (which you really don't want to touch anyway, so never mind). Gift shops were closed. Restaurants closed. Casino, bars, Lido Deck shuffleboard? You got it: less than open. You couldn't even stay in your room and watch the tube because housekeeping was making it up for the guests arriving that afternoon. When the water in the bathrooms got turned off at eleven o'clock, people started getting as hot as the Pollo Mazatlan on Mexican night.
It didn't have to be that way Big Cruise Ship Company. Offer another class on line dancing, another round of TV-theme song trivia. You've got a huge theater on your boat: show a movie. Or some fifteen-minute short films, cartoons, southern California travelogues (heck, I bet the Leno people could whip up some "Best of" stuff and pay you to show it) -- anything so people are entertained, yet not so much they don't get off the ship when it's their turn.
But that's not the way you played it. No, you took your 15% gratuities the night before and stowed Gopher and your customer service in the ship's hold. When 11:30 rolled around, you blamed the delay on Customs (as if the new Homeland Security rules had just been handed down and you had no chance to run off revised departure schedules on the Xerox machine in your Business Center). Once I'm on the pier at San Pedro, I become Customs' problem. Until then I'm your customer. Please treat me that way.
(I know ... cry, cry, cry.)
Mikesell
