Post by High Priestess on Jun 21, 2016 16:00:59 GMT
SEe the June 21 2016 really great article by a real Airbnb host:
www.nytimes.com/2016/06/26/travel/airbnb-host.html?emc=edit_tnt_20160621&nlid=21173463&tntemail0=y&_r=0
After my first Airbnb guests checked out of our apartment last February, I eagerly looked up their online review. I had no reason to suspect anything but flattering comments from the two young women from Oregon, one of whom had originally planned on coming with her husband to celebrate their fourth anniversary until he had to drop out at the last minute. She brought a friend instead, but disappointment, I discovered, came along in her suitcase.
When they arrived for the three-day stay in my home southwest of Austin, I met them cheerily with a basket of muffins and walked them through the apartment, which my husband and I used to rent out long-term until we decided to jump on the Airbnb gravy train. If all went well, we figured we could make the $650 we used to get per month in six nights.
As a travel writer, I’ve reviewed scores of hotels and was quite sure I knew what I was doing. We bought a sumptuous pillowtop mattress, luscious sheets and towels and an array of pillow styles. I left coffee, tea and real half-and-half (no powdered creamer for my guests!) as well as bubble bath for the tub. As I arranged the vintage patio furniture on the balcony and looked out over our 15 acres of rolling Texas Hill Country terrain, I thought, Who wouldn’t love this?
Well, as they say, pride goeth before a fall. “Very little supplies in the kitchen,” was just one of the gripes the Oregon women left in their review. They gave me three out of five stars — a rating handed out in fewer than six percent of stays, according to a subsequent tsk-tsk note from Airbnb. Thanks to my faceplant out of the gate, I was told my search placement would be impacted. For months to come, my cumulative star rating remained less than nearby hosts. I was devastated, especially since I had sung the guests’ praises in my review of them (reviews are published simultaneously so I didn’t see theirs in advance). I felt the same pangs of rejection and inadequacy that go along with unrequited high school friendships.....
My listing included a map that showed exactly where I was in relation to Austin. When they arrived, the Oregon women told me their GPS took them the wrong way, and they did make the trip during rush hour; hence the 60-minute drive time. No matter. Their travel issues became my issue. I wanted to respond to their review with an apology for not clearing the highways out of Austin for them, but I had the sense to know snark would not win me future bookings. Instead I immediately put a disclaimer on my listing that “your driving time may vary because of traffic.” “Duh” implied.
You may start your Airbnb career imagining you’ll be a magnanimous, mi-casa-es-su-casa kind of host. But at some point you’ll have guests who’ll make you want to hide under your bed until they’ve gone out for the day. We had a perfectly nice couple who could not master the thermostat and would call or text every time the temperature was not to their liking. They’d also frequently update us on their struggles with the icemaker, the washer’s spin cycle, the ceiling fan switch.
I was just a hobbyist, but I’ll think twice about re-upping with Airbnb in our new home though we have the space. The hospitality business is one long, grinning, love-me-please tap dance, more easily disparaged than done.
www.nytimes.com/2016/06/26/travel/airbnb-host.html?emc=edit_tnt_20160621&nlid=21173463&tntemail0=y&_r=0
After my first Airbnb guests checked out of our apartment last February, I eagerly looked up their online review. I had no reason to suspect anything but flattering comments from the two young women from Oregon, one of whom had originally planned on coming with her husband to celebrate their fourth anniversary until he had to drop out at the last minute. She brought a friend instead, but disappointment, I discovered, came along in her suitcase.
When they arrived for the three-day stay in my home southwest of Austin, I met them cheerily with a basket of muffins and walked them through the apartment, which my husband and I used to rent out long-term until we decided to jump on the Airbnb gravy train. If all went well, we figured we could make the $650 we used to get per month in six nights.
As a travel writer, I’ve reviewed scores of hotels and was quite sure I knew what I was doing. We bought a sumptuous pillowtop mattress, luscious sheets and towels and an array of pillow styles. I left coffee, tea and real half-and-half (no powdered creamer for my guests!) as well as bubble bath for the tub. As I arranged the vintage patio furniture on the balcony and looked out over our 15 acres of rolling Texas Hill Country terrain, I thought, Who wouldn’t love this?
Well, as they say, pride goeth before a fall. “Very little supplies in the kitchen,” was just one of the gripes the Oregon women left in their review. They gave me three out of five stars — a rating handed out in fewer than six percent of stays, according to a subsequent tsk-tsk note from Airbnb. Thanks to my faceplant out of the gate, I was told my search placement would be impacted. For months to come, my cumulative star rating remained less than nearby hosts. I was devastated, especially since I had sung the guests’ praises in my review of them (reviews are published simultaneously so I didn’t see theirs in advance). I felt the same pangs of rejection and inadequacy that go along with unrequited high school friendships.....
My listing included a map that showed exactly where I was in relation to Austin. When they arrived, the Oregon women told me their GPS took them the wrong way, and they did make the trip during rush hour; hence the 60-minute drive time. No matter. Their travel issues became my issue. I wanted to respond to their review with an apology for not clearing the highways out of Austin for them, but I had the sense to know snark would not win me future bookings. Instead I immediately put a disclaimer on my listing that “your driving time may vary because of traffic.” “Duh” implied.
You may start your Airbnb career imagining you’ll be a magnanimous, mi-casa-es-su-casa kind of host. But at some point you’ll have guests who’ll make you want to hide under your bed until they’ve gone out for the day. We had a perfectly nice couple who could not master the thermostat and would call or text every time the temperature was not to their liking. They’d also frequently update us on their struggles with the icemaker, the washer’s spin cycle, the ceiling fan switch.
I was just a hobbyist, but I’ll think twice about re-upping with Airbnb in our new home though we have the space. The hospitality business is one long, grinning, love-me-please tap dance, more easily disparaged than done.