Richard Turen
Wednesday, the 20th of January, was a typical day. Nothing major pending, no meetings on my calendar, no deadlines. It is typically the quietest day of the week. In fact, when the end of the day rolled around, it had turned out to be a quite average workday: handling phone calls, talking with clients and working the computer in ways I hoped might hide the fact that I have never learned to type.
In fact, the only thing unusual about that particular Wednesday was that I decided to keep a log to share with you. I suppose this attempt to document a typical day in the life of a travel seller is more aimed at my supplier friends, who I suspect don't always have a clear understanding of what we do and how some of us do it.
Of course, it is important to point out that every "typical" day in the life of a travel seller is a very personal series of events. You will never find two accounts of a business day that match. But I thought there might be some value in sketching out a bit of what I actually do for a living in my little corner of the industry. I had planned to take you through the entire day, but, as always, time got away from me, and my space will only allow me to take you up to lunchtime:
8:15 a.m. I had one phone message and two emails regarding travel to the Caribbean and fears of the Zika virus. So I had to drop everything and learn all I could about the virus, since the two emailers were New York Times readers who had seen an alarming article on the subject. After gathering as many facts as I could, including advice from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, I called two cruise lines with ships in the Caribbean to see what they were advising.
Then I had to write this all up and get it on two of our websites since it seemed serious. Next, I responded to the two emails, neither of which was from a client, and then I reviewed the booking of the client who had left a message. This was a honeymoon on a luxury line that was headed for three of the islands on the list of locations where the mosquito-borne virus existed.
What bothered me most in my reading was a quote from the dean of Baylor College of Medicine's National School of Tropical Medicine, Dr. Peter Hotez: "If my daughter was planning to get pregnant, I'd advise her not to go to the Caribbean." Then he added, "this is going to decimate Caribbean tourism, but we can't wait to act until nine months from now when congenital defects turn up in the labor and delivery suites."
I added the quotes to the story on our website. Then I called the honeymooners, and we decided that the cruise ought to be canceled. I will now be sending them to Europe; I set that in motion with staff.
9:15 a.m. I started my East Coast callbacks. One of my best clients was interested in a driving trip through the Canadian Rockies with two other couples. But I don't enjoy doing driving trips where local routing knowledge is essential. So I contacted our consortium's onsite in Canada and spoke to the department that I knew could best handle this trip. I introduced them to our client and let them take over. They will do the entire trip and price it with a 12% referral commission included. This is what is known as a win-win.
10 a.m. Uh-oh on the email. Between my three email addresses, including one at Travel Weekly, I had 173 new messages, of which 21 were from traffickers who want to increase my Web visitors. I don't want that to increase, because that would mean more email from traffickers. I am trying, really I am, to look at my inbox twice each day, which is what time experts seem to recommend. But they never owned a travel consultancy. I cheat by glancing at my email at lunchtime.
Today's email, as always, is a mix of feedback, new business requests and public relations babble. It amazes me that some of these PR types really imagine we have time to read their stuff. But I paid a little bit more attention than usual today, since I was keeping notes to share with you.
Just when you think you can't be surprised by anything in this industry, we learn that a Swiss development company has gotten approval from the government of Montenegro to convert a World War II concentration camp in Kotor, a popular cruise ship destination, into a luxury beach resort with a nightclub and spa.
The camp was known Mamula Island, and the fortress, now in ruins, was a camp run by the Italians where prisoners, mostly locals, were tortured and starved. Renderings of the property show that portions of the fortress will be retained and used to create an overflow pool with palm trees, a luxury yacht marina and a dance floor.
11 a.m. Everyone is waking up on the West Coast, so I begin my callbacks. There are two calls for Crystal's new riverboat launches in 2017 from past Crystal guests, but one couple was seriously thinking about bringing their preteen kids. I explained that there would be no children's programs on these ships, and we discussed alternatives. They were unaware of the Tauck Bridges Program, a series of worldwide tours designed for families traveling with kids. I sent them the brochure marking the programs I love most. I lost an easy sale, but I do that several times a day. The other couple booked Crystal.
11:30 a.m. I got a call I had to take from someone referred by a really good client. The problem is that our client recommends every single human she comes in contact with to call us, and we manage to refer most of them to a local travel agent. But this fellow was persistent. He was interested in booking a tour program in Morocco and wanted to know if it was safe. We discussed that for a while, and I offered to send him our new client application. But he had "one more question." Finally, he got to his point: He found an Abercrombie & Kent tour on an OTA site and felt he would score a discount if he booked online. But he was, I think, nice about it and even sincere, so I gave him the long answer.
I explained that when you book anything online, you have to picture in your mind to whom you are talking. I described the worst call center in Bangladesh, going into detail about the color of the walls, the crowded desks, the torn carpeting and the commission-based structure with a mean overseer walking the aisles, listening in on conversations. Not ethical, I realize, but neither is unapproved rebating, so I enjoy getting creative. I got the booking.
Noon I sent the staff a memo about a client doing a family-based, rather involved FIT in Japan. The meal arrangements are taking time, and we are not getting quick enough responses from our overseas affiliate. While preparing our special document package for these guests, I am informed we are "currently over 90 pages." I make a mental note to figure out how much our documentation costs us per booking on average.
You'd think that travel suppliers would send documentation; for the most part, they don't. They send a detailed itinerary, they send payment verification, and they send along another plea that we use their insurance.
What they don't do is imagine they are actually taking the trip, so we have to design documentation that discusses history, culture, security concerns, weather, neighborhoods, free-time suggestions, money, any health issues and tipping as well as comprehensive sections about local foods and restaurants. It is a carefully curated, three-ring binder book, a thick one. I wish suppliers would create this for us, but as commission-earners, it's really our job.
12:15 p.m. I have two clients in the hospital. We send flowers to one and a note to both.
I don't recognize birthdays, and I don't send Christmas cards. We prefer the "call for no reason." No sales pitch. We don't even bring up the topic of travel unless the client does. I make four of those calls. Well worth the effort, and one call recipient requests pricing for a safari to South Africa for two couples. Good timing on the random call.
1 p.m. Lunchtime, but it turns out there is no time for lunch. Eleven callbacks and about a dozen Web inquiries plus incoming and outgoing emails.
Anyway, Gordon Gecko always said, "Lunch is for wimps."