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“Quality customer service is an experience of feeling valued or heard. Sometimes it’s an intangible component of why a guest may prefer one tourism or hospitality provider over another.”
Alison’s been taking an online evening course in tourism and hospitality, the outcome of a panic-induced revelation that had her bolting up in bed at two in the morning— neither she nor Mike knew anything about running a business, let alone a hotel. And yeah, sure, the renovations seem overwhelming and unending, but someday they’ll get there, right? More weddings and venue rentals as they chip away at their dream. That’s the whole point of all this, right?
So, yes, evening courses— something which makes Alison feel more in control than stripping wallpaper ever will (despite how satisfying it is to watch a great big peel of it ripple to the flooring, which is proper lovely indeed.)
And in many ways, managing the needs of a house full of ghosts is good customer service practice for when the house finally becomes a hotel.
At least this is what Alison tells herself every morning, covers drawn up over her head to drown out the pestering, god always bloody pestering, voices that start her day.
1. Save customers their time, and make processes simple
Alison finds it best to deal with the demands of the ghosts straight off in the morning– there’s no point putting it off till her first cup of coffee, and the longer she tries to go about her day, the worst the build-up gets. Shower, dress and then right to it.
The Captain applauded her on her work ethic, and maybe in a different moment, she would be more chuffed with that if he wasn’t always the loudest and most insistent voice of the whole lot.
“Now, Alison, see here. I thought we were in agreement upon nightly quiet hours which were to commence at 2200 sharp. Nevertheless that husband of yours was up playing his blasted television game, again, well into the small hours of the morning.”
….It was until 1 AM. She knew because Mike was playing online against someone in Thunder Bay, Canada and muttered about timezone advantages as he crawled into bed. Cap always reminds her of a disgruntled peacock when he marches about like this, bandying about his swagger stick. Alison could counter that the only reason this bothers the Captain so much is because Mike can’t hear the orders Cap barks at him over his shoulder as he plays.
‘Good Lord, man, use your brain. A Commander never brings his troops into such disarray. A shame, I say— a shame.’
“Right,” Alison smiles curtly, “Sorry about that. I’ll remind him about the Bluetooth headphones.”
“Well,” Cap frowns in confusion, “I fail to see how dentistry has anything to do with his poor sense of time.”
“No, I—” she sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “Oh, never mind.”
2. Be proactive with your communication and swift with your resolutions
It was Pat’s idea, really, in a round-a-bout way. She doesn’t want to say she’s eavesdropping because, honestly, the discussions that go on around her are so tediously dull for the most part. If she has to hear Mary discuss plowing again, she might end up a ghost herself— dying of sheer boredom.
“I always had a set of rules with my troop,” Pat prattles in the genial way of his. “Of course, we have our Laws, both for scouts and the cubs. But I always found it helpful to write something up about the day-to-day rules….” he gestures, “you know, just to smooth out our troop meetings.”
“Oh yeah,” Julian guffaws, not looking up from the magazine he’s slowly making his way through. “And how did that work out for you again?”
Pat scowls, his hand going to his neck and the arrow protruding through it. “Not great, mind, but I stand by the principle. A set of rules for all to follow, nice and clear.”
“You know what, Pat,” Alison says suddenly, looking up from where she’s been sorting bills, “that is a great idea.”
Pat shuffles about, a please smile on his face. “Well, thank you, Alison. I just find—” he continues, but she pays him no mind marching off to the bedroom for her laptop and opening a word document, clicking print several minutes later (much to Robin’s annoyance, who for some inexplicable reason, growls at the printer like a dog would do, watching it warily till the machine stops.)
As expected, shortly after, chaos reigns. The ghosts huddle in around where they’ve found her working at the kitchen table. A semi-circle of confused and put out faces towering overhead (well, apart from poor Humphrey).
“What is the meaning of this?” Fanny haughtily and shrilling asks, pointing wildly at a copy of the document Alison has taped up about the house. “How dare you foist these ridiculous rules upon me in my own home.”
“But it’s not your house anymore,” Alison says calmly, looking up from the screen of her laptop. “It’s mine and Mike’s, and I’ve decided it’s time to lay down some ground rules. Starting with respecting our privacy—” she looks pointedly at Thomas, who at least has the decency to look away, abashed, after walking in on her and Mike in bed this morning. The scream of embarrassment and surprise she’d let out had brought the whole house running, and she and Mike diving for the covers.
“Our bedroom and ensuite are off-limits. Period.”
“But what if it’s an emergency?” Kitty asks with a pout; hands clasped over the folds of her gown.
“Like what?”
“Like…like…” Kitty begins, obviously wracking her brain for a response. “Like if I wake from a nightmare.”
“That’s not an emergency, Kitty,” Alison replies softly, “and there’s a house full of others to help you as well.”
“But,” Kitty frowns, looking upset now. “You’re my best friend.” Alison feels a twinge of guilt at that; she genuinely likes Kitty. “Can we still have sleepovers at least?”
Alison nods. “Yes,” she says, quickly adding over Kitty’s delighted claps, “not all the time though, Kitty. It’s uh, more fun and special if we only do them occasionally. And we’ll have them in your room from now on.”
Fanny’s scowl deepens, already annoyed by the yet unfixed hole in the wall between her and Kitty’s rooms. Kitty, however, smiles, her cheeks dimpling. “Oh, all right, that’s fine.”
“And,” Alison adds, addressing the group once more, “if ever there is a real emergency and you absolutely need me that moment, I’m going to install a bell Julian can press, and we’ll hear it.” The chance of this backfiring spectacularly in her face is admittedly high, but at least it’s better than constantly being on edge that a ghost is going to catch her starkers…. if they haven’t already.
“Oh wonderful,” Julian sneers loudly, “do I look like your backbencher errand boy?”
Alison rolls her eyes. “Have you got anything else going on?” She counters.
Julian sniffs. “Point taken,” he mumbles much softer now.
“They’re not unreasonable requests,” she says lightly, “and if we’re all going to get on together, some changes need to be made on your end too.”
The ghosts concede their consent: a chorus of agreement and gestures, and Alison grins.
“A capital idea, my sweetest,” Thomas sighs dreamily, which Alison ignores. She’s still not convinced Thomas ‘accidentally’ walked in on them this morning.
Alison knows if she doesn’t wrap this up, they’ll be here all day. “So yeah, look it over, and if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to clarify. Later, not now, though. I’m working, which is a rule on the list, as you’ll see.”
She makes a show of deliberately turning back to her laptop, a cue for the ghosts to leave. Wait, no, delegation, Alison.
“Oh,” she says suddenly, head snapping back up. “And I’m charging the Captain,” Cap’s eyes narrow, “ — and Pat—” Pat’s bushy brows shoot up in pleasant surprise over his coke bottle glasses, “ — to see these rules are followed. So, um, go to them with your questions, and they’ll take them up with me if needs be.”
“On my honour,” The Captain says with a salute, throwing a peevish look in Pat’s direction, who simply beams.
3. Offer deep personalization
Alison knew this might happen when she invited a few of her closest girlfriends down from London for the weekend. They’d been bugging her for months to come see the house once more rooms were done up, and despite the fact that she really shouldn’t take the time off, she can’t deny the appeal of having a few mates round.
Then Thomas becomes instantaneously enamoured with her friend Gemma and Alison remembers why she doesn’t have people over.
“What vision of beauty and splendour I see before me,” Thomas rhapsodizes, a mooncalf look on his face as he stares longingly after her friend. Alison tries not to let her eyes roll to the back of her skull. “Surely she is Circe herself, for I have been bewitched.”
“Oh, brother,” Alison mutters under her breath.
This continues the rest of the day, Thomas hovering long after the other ghosts have departed, trailing after Gemma as she walks about, reaching out to brush his fingers through her admittedly gorgeous red hair, “more luscious than Lady Hamilton herself,” he sighed, then shuddering in obvious discomfort at making contact with a human, only to do all again.
“If only I could see her perfect lips form the letters of my name, but once, I would rest a happy soul.” Thomas sighs, dramatically dropping to a nearby lounge chair as Alison and her friends eat lunch. Alison spares a glance over her shoulder to catch a look at Thomas’ forlorn and heartsick expression, then gives a great sigh. As nice as it to have Thomas’ affections directed somewhere else, she can’t help but pity him too. Thomas will never get the love he desperately desires, so, really, what’s the harm in humouring him if it will mean so much to him.
“Oh all right, I’ll do it.” she says in mild exasperation, taking a sip of her wine when her friends turn to her in confusion. “Gemma—” Thomas’ head snaps up, “Do you remember that boy in Year 7, the one that ate that rubber that one time for five pounds. What was his name again?”
Gemma stares at her, brows furrowed in confusion and a bemused expression pulling at her features. “What? Why would you be thinking of that?”
Alison shrugs, taking another sip of her wine. “Oh, I dunno, just one of those random thoughts you wake up with, y’know. I’ve been wracking my brain all morning about it. Do you remember?”
Gemma frowns in thought. “Wasn’t his name Tim?”
Alison huffs, damn, so close. “Nah, that’s not right. Definitely a T name though.”
“Taylor? No, wait a minute….Thomas!” Gemma exclaims, squinting into the distance in thought.
Thomas leaps from his chair. “Yes, my perfect angel,” he cries in rapture, clutching at his chest. “Once more!”
Alison suppresses a grin. “Oh, maybe… that sounds right.” She says, egging Gemma on.
“Yeah, Thomas,” Gemma repeats, the name no sooner out of her mouth than Thomas is twirling about the room in ecstasy, his face the picture of delight. “Honestly, babes,” Gemma laughs in dismay, “I love you, but sometimes I think that brain injury has knocked a few things loose.”
Alison shakes her head. “Don’t I know it.”
4. Ensure your agents are well-trained and motivated
In the months following the accident and Alison’s new “powers” as Mike likes to call it, she’s begun to notice it isn’t just her that’s curious about their unconventional housemates.
It starts as a little thing: “Did you know our trouser-less MP Julian Fawcett has a wiki page? One of our ghosts is on the internet— that’s weird that is.” Then suddenly Mike’s YouTube recommendations are all historical documentaries: videos about the Witch trials; The Gunpowder Plot; the people of Stonehenge; the Black Death; Georgians tax laws; Lord Byron (Alison makes sure to warn Mike off about that).
Then it grows: Mike loudly saying hello when he walks into any room; checking to ensure the light in the cellar is kept on after all the pit people’s (as Alison and Mike have come to call them) help with the furnace; scheduling film nights with a rotation of films she knows he has no interest in, yet watches all the same.
He doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he walks in on her in conversation. Just asks what they’re talking about and goes about his business. Sometimes he even tries to join, as much as he can with Alison playing interpreter.
Alison can’t describe how grateful she is, how much she loves Mike for rolling with it all. Knowing he believes her makes her feel like she’s not going crazy, despite the way everyone else in the living world seems to think she is.
“Maybe I could make a playlist, yeah?” Mike says one night as they’re lying in bed. “We play music around the house so often, everyone might as well get a chance to hear stuff they’d like.” He frowns, turning to look at her. “Do you think they had music in the caveman guy’s time? I dunno, maybe I can put nature sounds on or something….”
Alison smiles, snuggling into him. “I think that’s a nice idea. I’ll ask for any request.”
5. Be present wherever your customers are
One weekend Alison and Mike go away to attend the wedding of one of Mike’s cousins, and it’s the oddest thing, but despite all the headaches the ghosts give her, how frustrating and complicated they make her life— Alison finds she misses them by the end of the weekend.
How much the Captain and Kitty would have enjoyed the wedding; how Thomas and Robin would have danced the night away at the reception; how Mary would have loved the buffet, looking at all the food; Fanny joining in with all the gossip around the tables and Mike’s aunties making disparaging comments.
And when they return, the greeting is hectic and loud and something warm bubbles in her chest.
It’s nice to have been away, but it’s good to be home.