Reference no: EM132108669

Case - Quality Management

I visited my old pal Stuckey recently. He had called to let me know that he had taken over as general manager of the Flagship hotel about six months ago, and thought that I might be interested in seeing a real hotel from the inside. He also indicated that I might learn something about the hotel business.

When I drove up to the front door, a steady rain kept me inside the car for 10 to 15 minutes. During that time, I noticed that the doorman was peering at me from inside the lobby. Sensing that the rain was not going to quit, I made a dash for the doors and pushed my way in, dripping on the carpet in the process. The doorman told me that I could only leave the car there for about 10 minutes because it was a no-parking zone, but that the hotel garage in the next block would be glad to store it for me. He offered to lend me his umbrella in order to unload the trunk.

Accepting his offer, I retrieved my suitcase and clothes bag to drop both at the front desk. Announcing myself as Mr. Stuckey’s guest didn’t seem to make much of an impression on the clerk, who was chatting with the cashier. She seemed a little irritated at my interference.

There was no reservation for me, but they said they could fix me up since I had said the general manager had invited me. After only three rings of the “front” bell, the bellhop came to lead me to my room, which, as it turned out, wasn’t made up. He commented that it was only 3 o’clock and the room would probably be fixed up by the time I returned from my business. I tipped him, dropped my bags and remembered my car.

It wasn’t necessary to worry because the police had just towed the vehicle away. The doorman said that he had waved to the tow truck but they hadn’t been able to see him for the rain. He assured me that I could pick up the car in the morning with no problem. A cab could take me to the police lot, and the fine was only $25 plus the towing charge. The garage charged $6. He noted that it was interesting how they could move a car like that without having a key.   Said they would make good thieves.     

I found Stuckey’s office on the third floor. One of the elevators wasn’t working so I took the brisk walk up the stairs. His secretary nodded and suggested that I move some magazines off that bench and sit down as “Elmer” would be with me as soon as he got off the telephone. She went back to her book.

After a few minutes, she seemed to notice my presence again, and offered me some coffee from the percolator in the corner of the reception room. (She didn’t like the hotel coffee, and neither, apparently did Elmer.) I accepted with thanks, telling her I was still damp, not being able to shower and change because the room was not prepared. She said I really shouldn’t expect much else because, although checkout time was noon, they didn’t like to push their guests out on rainy days like this. I said I thought that was very considerate of them.

I asked about my automobile, and she repeated the information I already had about the $25 fine and the towing charges. Happens all the time, she indicated. The police have no class.

Stuckey emerged from his office and greeted me effusively. Now, he told me, I was going to see how a hotel should be run. He took me into his office, cleared some reports off a chair, and offered me a cigar. After remarking on my trip, and how fortunate it was of him to catch me in an off moment, he asked how I liked the place so far.

I told him about the car, the doorman, the room clerk, the room , the bellhop, and the elevator. He told me how to get the car back and dismissed the other incidents as growing pains.

Then, lowering his voice, he asked me if I would mind checking out the restaurant for him. He would pay, naturally. But he wasn’t sure if the restaurant manager was really operating the place right. She didn’t seem to get along with the other department heads and barely spoke to Elmer. Something funny is going on, he thought. Also, the hotel occupancy had been dropping steadily. He was sure that this had something to do with the food.

Then, straightening his tie, rolling down his sleeves, and putting on his favorite old hunting jacket, he took me on a tour of the hotel. He emphasized that I had only seen the front side of hotels in my travels. He was going to show me the real guts.

In the maid’s room, nine or ten women were involved in a discussion with the housekeeper about their assignments. Those of the lower floors had to wait until the vacuum cleaners were available from the upper floors, so naturally everyone wanted to work on the upper floors. Stuckey suggested that they might vacuum every other day, then they could share the machines on a rotating basis. The maids thought that this was a great idea, although the housekeeper didn’t seem too pleased.

Stuckey remarked to me about the lack of some people’s decision-making ability. He sighed that he had to make more and more decisions each day because his staff seemed reluctant to take the initiative.

We toured all the floors, I mentioned the number of room service trays that seemed to be standing in the hall. Stuckey said that this was a normal part of the hotel scene. The guests didn’t mind because it reminded them that room service was available.

The cigar and newspaper stand looked like it belonged in the subway. The old man behind the counter offered some stale alternatives to the cigars I requested. He was very pleasant about it. Only a few magazines could be seen. “Guests don’t go in for magazines anymore,” Stuckey told me. With a nudge, he reminded me that I didn’t understand the hotel business.

The restaurant seemed to belong to a different world. It was packed. The maître d’ rushed over, bowed, seated us at a window, and took our drink orders. An atmosphere of quiet efficiency seemed to blanket the room. Two drinks appeared before us while attractive menus were deftly placed to our left. Elmer didn’t seem happy. The restaurant, he told me, was a concession left over from the previous owners. He was trying to buy out the leases so he could turn it into a real money maker. At present, it made only about 10 percent net. I mentioned that most hotels lose money on their restaurants. He countered by showing me how many people were there even on that rainy day. He insisted that raising the prices while cutting back on the help was bound to increase the take.

The nex t morning, I retrieved my car, place it firmly in the hotel garage, and returned for a farewell meeting with Stuckey. He asked my opinion concerning his stewardship. He commented on the failing standards of today’s workers, noted that he had ever-increasing difficulty in getting people who wanted to do quality work, and bemoaned the fact that the big grand hotels like his were losing out to motels.

1. How would you rate Stuckey’s hotel?

2. What are some of the most interesting examples of quality found in this case?

3. What do you think of Stuckey’s handling of the dispute involving the vacuum cleaners?

4. What would you recommend to Stuckey about the manager of the restaurant?

5. If you were hired as a consultant by the owners of the hotel, what would you do? Why?