In lieu of securing a full-time job, I've been trying to expand my experience and contacts by doing more freelance writing. I've never considered myself a "journalist" or even a "writer," but today, in service of an assignment, I spent three hours running around Manhattan investigating budget hotels.
The experience was wholly strange, and probably good for me in some ways. Despite what some people may think, I'm not a naturally outgoing person. I'm shy. I'm an introvert. This is something you never kick. If I seem outgoing, it's because I'm acting a part, donning a mask, of a person who enjoys talking to people. In reality, I'd rather be home on my couch, watching TV and interacting with not one human soul.
But writing this piece involved getting out there and talking to people, getting information out of them. Since I would feel uncomfortable writing up these hotels without visiting them first, I covered some serious ground today.
Money-saving transportation tip #1: Take the subway to your first destination, then the bus to the next place. Free transfer!
Money-saving transporation tip #2: Get in line at the turnstile behind two cops and their bomb-sniffing dog. They were so impatient at having to wait behind a Metrocard-incompetent woman while the train pulled into the station, they waved six of us on through the emergency exit. The look on that cop's face said, "I'm doing you guys a big favor, so take advantage, before I change your mind and arrest you all for jumping the turnstile." (Kidding. "Nice" and "impatient" are synonymous, no?)
At each hotel I visit, I take a deep breath, pretend I know what I'm doing and that this is a normal thing for me, and say, "I'm writing an article on hotel value in New York, and I hope to include your hotel. Do you have rooms for under $200 after tax, and if so, may I see one?" I figure that's the easiest way to go about it. What's the point in hiding my purpose, after all? I know that restaurant critics do that in order to avoid special service, but a room is a room is a room -- if it smells like feet, they won't be able to hide that from me. And it seems weird to pretend like I'm a potential guest. What would I do, act like I want to book a room, and then change my mind after seeing it?
Most of the front-desk people I've talked to have been really nice and taken my request in stride. I met one manager of an inn today who, while clearly overworked and initially abrupt because I hadn't made an appointment, gave me a lot of good information and made me like the place even more. (It has an artists' rehearsal room, with a piano! Come on.)
But in a couple of instances, my "I'm writing an article" spiel saddled me with me a full-on sales treatement. I guess it comes with the territory, but this wasn't something I'd expected or wanted. At one newly opened boutique hotel, I was introduced to a young, besuited sales person who shrugged off my questions about room rates (I believe he actually smirked when I asked about rooms under $200), and talked up the hotel's design and room size but refrained from giving me any information about how much stuff cost. At another, the woman at the front desk called the manager, then asked me for my "press pass" -- and, when I said I didn't have one, since I was writing this article as a freelancer (albeit for a legitimate publication), told me I'd have to make an appointment next week, and declined to show me a room.
I was a little baffled at all this. Sure, writers and editors who cover movies and TV have to deal with publicists; but that's usually because they're being given sneak previews or special access to celebrities. This hotel didn't want to show me a room... at all? Isn't that something they would normally grant a regular person who was curious about the hotel? So, because I'm being up front that I'm considering writing about the hotel, I get treated not better than a customer, but worse?
I would hate to have my treatment as a "journalist" influence which places I decide to cover, but in a way, it does. For one thing, customer service -- even toward a non-customer -- is an important part of the travel industry, and I have to take that into account. To be charitable, maybe they want to give me special treatment to influence my coverage, but in doing so, they're putting me off. All I wanted to do was see a room. To be uncharitable, maybe they don't trust my motives, seeing as how I'm a member of the press; but that strikes me as odd, since the best I can do is write about them, and the worst I can do is leave them out of the article because I was treated rudely or, you know, never got to see a room. (It just occurred to me that perhaps they think I would give them a bad writeup if left to my own devices and not given an official PR talk. Please. The only way that would work is if the official PR talk included payola, a bottle of champagne and a free room. Kiiidding.)
That said, I'm starting to think that next time, I'll try lying. "Hi, I'm thinking of booking a room for my, uh, aunt, but it has to be under $200. Could I see one?" Maybe I'll go full Ruth Reichl and don a wig and sunglasses. If they question me, I'll tell them the truth, because I'm a terrible liar.
Running from place to place and asking strangers to talk to me, over and over again, is not my strong suit. At the end of the day, I was exhausted. But I'm trying to regard this period of my life as an opportunity to reinvent myself, to look around and see what I can introduce into my life that's new and maybe even difficult. To that end, I was at least partly successful. Maybe I'm not a real journalist or even a writer, but with my pad of paper and pen and questions, for brief moments today, I almost felt like one.