From 1995 through 2004, I visited 38
different countries as I helped my employer build the company they sent me to
run from a $49 million business to a $117 million business. The most memorable of these trips was my
second visit to New Zealand
in December 2003. We had recently
selected a new representative for the area, and we planned a tour to introduce
our products and our new representative to all the helicopter maintenance
facilities and operators. My wife Mary
accompanied me as did Paul Glibert, our new representative and their director
of maintenance John Kilburn. John
accompanied us through the northern island
of New Zealand, Paul the
south.
“John, I want you to
find us a nice place when we go down toward Wellington,” I said to John Kilburn. I was concerned that Mary would be terribly
bored, and wanted to make sure that she could crash at a nice hotel while John,
and I visited the helicopter operators and repair stations. I love the selling and visiting part of the helicopter
business, because it is at the customers’ locations that you can see your
products being used. I continued with
John, “My wife is with me, and we like to stay in nice places, and the company’s
paying for it, so find us a comfortable place for the night.”
“I’ll
take care of it,” answered John nervously, wanting to make a good first
impression on the two of us.
Mary
and I had flown into Auckland two days earlier and spent the remainder of the
first day shaking off the jet-lag from the 17-hour flight and the second day
visiting Hawker Pacific’s central helicopter repair center that distributed my
company’s parts. The agenda called for a
two-day tour of all the operators on the
North Island and then a five-day tour of
the South island. The north island trip
would take us by car from Auckland to Rotorua and then to Taupo and finally to
Wellington, from where we would leave by plane for the South Island city of
Nelson. We would then drive by car again
down the entire southwest coast to Queenstown.
The
drive from Auckland
to Rotorua was quite beautiful, and I used up the battery on my digital camera
taking “road shots” of the beautiful rolling hills and pastures and sheep, lots
of sheep. John was extremely quiet and
distant for some reason, and seemed to be avoiding eye contact with us, almost as
if he were upset. But, having known him
for only a few hours and having had few conversations, I found it difficult to
think of any reason that might make him angry with at us. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I was
distracted by the many road side stands where he stopped so that we could buy wool,
and possum lined items. In New Zealand, you
can buy any type of wool or possum clothing or shoes, from giant puffy slippers
to underwear.
Often, we drove by a
small mountain that looked like a partially sheared sheep, with portions of its
trees shaved to the ground. “Tree
farming,” explained John. “They can
literally plan their income based on the time it takes for the trees to
grow. The farmers have huge pieces of
equipment, like giant lawn mowers that cut the trees down, flat to the
ground. The lumber is sold
overseas. The only thing that can foil
their plans is forest fires. I knew a
man who lost his life’s savings, when a fire destroyed all of his trees just three
weeks before they were scheduled to be harvested.”
To
my surprise, Mary decided to visit the helicopter operators with us. Our first stop was a tour company in Rotorua
that flew people over the beautiful Huka falls.
We had a wonderful conversation with the owner who told us about his
helicopter part usage and a recent crash.
He asked Mary where she was staying that evening. “I think the name of the place is the Huka
Lodge…isn’t that right John?” John
looked quite embarrassed when he replied, “That’s right.” The reaction of the owner was quite
pronounced. “The Huka Lodge! That place is really nice, the best of the
best. I’ve always wanted to stay
there. You know that’s where the queen
stays when she visits? And there’s been
a bunch of other celebrities like Michael Douglas and Barbara Streisand. We flew Mr. Douglas. Do me a favor? Write me and tell me what it
was like.
Mary
promised that she would.
About
4 p.m., after a hard day of salesmanship, we drove down a secluded drive
through a beautiful forest and into the well manicured grounds of the Huka Lodge. The grounds were breathtaking, and the Waikato River was beautiful as it raced in front of the
lodge towards the Huka Falls. John
pulled under a covered porch in front of the main lodge, and we were
immediately greeted by a welcoming committee that consisted of three bus boys,
the concierge and the executive manager.
“Mr.
and Mrs. Shapiro?” the manager
asked. “Mr. Kilburn?”
“Yes,”
we replied, and then we each reached out and shook his hand.
He
smiled and said, “I thought it was you.
Most of the other guests have arrived.
Your bags will be taken to your villa, and now, if you have a moment, I
would like to personally give you a tour of the grounds.
“That
would be very nice,” answered Mary.
John
remained very quiet.
The
tour took us through the main lodge, which was a large two-story building with
dark hardwood floors and moldings. The downstairs was the congregating area for
the guests and had a large dining area with 2 tables big enough for about 30
guests, a living room with red leather chairs and green print couches that
overlooked the Waikato River, and an office where they conducted the
administrative duties of the lodge.
“All
the meals are community style,” he said.
“Gives our guests a chance to meet one another and to discuss their
days,” he explained.
Upstairs was a trophy
room that was lined with the heads of beasts from around the world, a study,
complete with library and computer, and a balcony with chairs and tables that
overlooked the grounds and the river.
All the dark green and red tones blended with the dark woods to exude
warmth that made us want to sit and relax.
After we toured the main lodge, our host took us to the wine vault,
where he claimed there were 3500 bottles of rare wines. My accountant brain made a quick count and
told me that he was short by at least 1000 bottles. He mentioned exotic years and vineyards, but
not being connoisseurs, it was all wasted on us. After the tour, we were led to our villa by a
pretty blonde girl.
Our
villa was unbelievable! It was at least
1200 square feet with a bathroom the size of one of our guest bedrooms. It was completely private from all the other
villas and was only about 50 feet from the river.
“This
place is beautiful,” said Mary trying to absorb every ounce of it.
“I
bet it’s expensive,” I answered. “How
much do you think it is?”
“I
don’t know, maybe $400 a night,” she answered.
I
thought she was probably close.
“Let’s
walk the grounds,” I suggested.
We
walked along the fast-paced river and found a friendly cat, which seemed to be
part of the lodge. We sat in big white
wooden chairs in front of our villa watching the river, playing with the cat
and enjoying the beautiful New
Zealand weather. After a while, we strolled back to the main
lodge and saw John sitting on the deck with a drink and holding his head in his
hands.
“John,
you did good,” said Mary. “This place is
great.”
“How
much does this place cost?” I asked.
John
remained silent.
“$500
a night?” I continued.
“More
than that,” he groaned, but he would say no more.
We
meandered back down to the river and into our villa. Mary filled up the Jacuzzi size bath tub, and
I plopped down on the bed. There was a knock
on the door, and the same young blonde lady handed me an envelope with Mary and
my name on it. When I opened it, I
received the shock of my life.
Dear
Mr. and Mrs. Shapiro,
Please come to the main lodge at
your convenience and settle your bill.
1 Villa with 2 guests $1,835
Tax and fees 176
Total $2,011
We accept Visa, Mastercard, American
Express (or your first-born…only kidding).
“Who
was at the door?” asked Mary. “And why
do you look so white?”
“They
brought our bill.”
“More
than what you thought?”
I
took it into the bathroom and showed it to her.
“Oh
my God,” she said. “Surely this is a
mistake. Perhaps they think we’re
staying here for a week.”
“I
don’t think it’s a mistake.”
“How
are you going to include this on your expense report? You’ll get in trouble. We’re going to have to pay for this
ourselves.”
We
both had the same murderous thought: John!!!
John
was sitting in the exact spot we had left him about 30 minutes before. He looked up and must have realized that we
now knew by the look on my face and the speed and focus of my walk. I started talking before I reached him.
“John,
did you know how much this place was?
I’ll never be able to put this on my expense report. You should have known better than to put us
in a place like this.”
He
pulled a chair out for me to sit down.
“You said that you wanted some place nice, and it’s a long story,” he
said.
John
explained that when I said that I wanted to stay in some place exclusive, he
called a few folks, and they all said that the Huka Lodge was the nicest place
in New Zealand. So, he told his administrative assistant to
make reservations. When he proudly told
his wife that he had booked us at the Huka, she remarked that she thought it
was quite expensive and then went to the internet and informed him that this
was the prime season and the rate in prime season was $1800 excluding general sales tax. He told her to cancel the reservation, but
when she tried, she found that there was a 24-hour cancellation policy! All day long John knew that there would be a
terrible confrontation when I discovered the cost, and he was fearful of his
job. “If you think you got screwed, follow me,” said John.
I
followed John down a path to the back side of my villa. He took out a key and opened a door that I
thought led to a supply closet. Inside
was a double bed, a small dresser and a television with a rabbit ear antenna
and a twist dial tuner. There were no
decorations and no window.
“This
is called an escort room. Because I
brought you to the Lodge, they let me have this room at a discounted rate. I guess they use these rooms for nannies who
come with families with children.”
“They’re
charging you for this?” I asked.
He
nodded his head.
“How
much?” I asked.
He
rested his forehead in his hand, “$875.”
I
couldn’t believe my ears. $875 would
rent a suite in a five-star hotel.
“I’m
so sorry,” he said.
“It’s
okay,” I replied. “Let’s make the most
of it. Mary really likes it, and it does
include dinner and breakfast.”
“You’re
not going to blow me in and get me fired?”
“Nope,
let’s enjoy it. Weren’t you telling us
on the drive up that you had just bought your daughter a used car?”
“Yeah,
a real nice Nissan.”
“How
much did you pay?”
“$1700.”
“Well
guess what? I’m going to be paying more
for one night’s accommodations than your daughter paid for her car.”
“That’s
not funny, I thought you weren’t mad.”
“I
know it’s not funny, and no I’m not mad, but I’m still going to get my pound of
flesh.”
Dinnertime
Dinner
at the Huka Lodge is a very interesting communal affair. During this time, we had the opportunity to
meet all the other 50 guests of the lodge.
You may ask yourself, “What type of people would knowingly stay at an
$1800 per night lodge?” I soon found out
that there are three different types.
- The
Super Rich – these folks are generally elderly and can really afford
places like the Huka Lodge, and think nothing about spending thousands of
dollars a day on holiday.
- The
Super Dumb – these are folks like me who make the booking and realize too
late just how expensive it is and cannot cancel. Thank goodness for large limits on VISA
and American Express.
- The
Super Sly – these folks use the Huka Lodge as a means to network with the
Super Rich, often trying to find an angle to tap into their wealth. It only takes them a second to separate
the super rich from the super dumb.
At dinner, Mary and I
were seated next to a super-rich man on my side, a super dumb couple on her
side and a super sly father and son directly across from us. The meal consisted of a five-course gout-inducing
blend of appetizers, entrees and desserts.
Wine was a big seller at the table with the average bottle selling for
about $1,000. Those who ordered the wine
refused to share and often one individual drank the entire bottle. I was enamored of how the super sly worked
their game with the super rich. Here’s
how it went: after a few questions, the
father and son directly across from us determined that we were “fixed income”
people. They used this term in a very
derogatory way, and were very direct with us that we were “fixed income.” The best I can understand is that “fixed
income” means that my net worth was dependent on a salary, and because of that
I was not worthy of their conversation.
The little old man on my right, however, proved to be a worthy game for
them. Their tactics were very good. The father was also elderly, about the same
age as the rich guy, and he worked the conversation until he found common
ground through his experiences in war, with wine, or by dropping names like
chum in the ocean until the man bit.
Once connected, they got drunk on a $1500 bottle of wine purchased by
the super sly old man. Once the
friendship was secured, the father handed the rich guy over to the son to sell
whatever it was that they were trying to sell.
And to my surprise, the old, rich drunk fools seemed to be falling for
it every time. It made me wonder how
they got rich, or how they were able to stay rich. With no one other than Mary and the other
super dumb couple next to Mary to talk with, I soon became quite bored with the
rich food and snooty conversation.
Finally, we were able
to return to our villa and crawl into bed.
I jumped in first. I stretched
out my body and reached out my legs, until, until, I felt something furry….it
was at the bottom of the bed….under the covers….I screamed as I jumped out of
bed, “There’s an animal in the bed!”
Mary came running over. Reluctantly,
we pulled back the sheets. There on the
bottom of the bed were 2 furry things.
Mary grabbed one of them and started to laugh.
“These are just water
bottles with a possum cover. It must be
for the old people that get cold feet.”
My heart was now
racing a hundred miles an hour, and I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of $2,000 hotel bills, being “fixed
income” and animals at the foot of my bed raced through my head.
After a nice breakfast,
it was time to settle my bill and leave the Huka Lodge. They gave Mary and me nice leather luggage
tags to remind us of our stay. I munched
an apple as the valet brought around my car.
They loaded my luggage and opened my car door.
“Do you have a
garbage can,” I asked as I stared at my rotting apple core.
The young female
concierge cupped her hands. “Give it to me,"
she said.
I put the brown core
into her hands, knowing that these folks were trained to do anything for their
rich, stupid or sly guests.
All over New Zealand I
told my story about the Huka Lodge. No
one could believe how expensive it was and several wanted to see the bill. A couple of people even made copies of
it. One side benefit of staying at the
Huka Lodge is that they must have sold their guest list to a number of luxury
retailers, because I began getting in the mail literature on Rolls Royces,
islands for sale and fine jewelry, so at least I got to pretend like I was rich. Was it the nicest place I’ve ever stayed…..yes? Was it worth $2,000 for one night? No way!