You know, sometimes you just have to tell someone they have the sense God gave a soda cracker and give them the heave-ho. The thing is, you don't usually get to do that to your clients. But I did. Well, not in a straightforward way, of course, because I am certain my bosses would not approve of me screeching, "You are dumber than dryer lint!" into the phone, but I am allowed to invoke the Research Fee spectre. That is, if you make me work too long without committing to a booking I start charging to do the research. Sometimes I charge it up front based on my instincts for time wasters. But if I'm reasonably sure a person is serious about a vacation I never bother mentioning there's a limit to my time and patience.
See, I had this honeymoon couple.... Hey, honest, I do trips for people who aren't going on honeymoons, but honeymooners are the ones who seem to be the loopiest. Planning a wedding tends to turn your brain into cheese, and the last thing you are is all pulled together on what you're going to do after Aunt Bingley makes a fool of herself with the rum punch and Dad tells that humiliating losing-your-bikini-top-in-the-surf story no matter how many times you beg him not to.
Anyway, so there was this couple. They were what I call mature honeymooners, meaning they weren't dewy-eyed 22 year olds but instead had been shacking up for the last 5-8 years and finally decided getting married would both make their parents happy and net them some really cool presents. The guy calls in late June and tells me they want a beach vacation, someplace warm and tropical, really nice and definitely all-inclusive. I suggest one of the Palace hotels on the Maya Riviera (which is a stupid name because the east coast of Mexico has fabulous white sand whereas the real Riviera has nasty pebbles but the Mexico Tourist Board didn't ask me what I thought). He continually disrupts me as I try to tell him why I think it might work for them. When I ask him if he really wants me to talk to him about this he snaps, "Lucy, you're the expert. I expect you to guide us." I get a bad feeling. I email some quotes, and tell him I need to hear back from him soon.
A month goes by. He contacts me again and says they are now serious about setting up the honeymoon. I ask how he feels about Mexico. He counters with a query about Tahiti. I get him quotes on a very nice vacation to Bora Bora because he requests something "Ultra nice. Price isn't really the issue." He wants to check with his girlfriend on this. Excuse me, fiancee. I tell him when the deposit is due, and urge him to make a decision because the good hotels go fast. He keeps interrupting me with different requests, questions I've already answered, ponderings on whether they should maybe go to Mexico after all. I give him new quotes on Mexico. He promises to get back to me.
Three weeks go by. They've decided Mexico is out because, and here I quote his fiancee's exact words as heard by me in the background while he's babbling in my ear over the phone, "Mexico's too common. I don't want to go where everyone else goes."
Oooookay. Meanwhile, Mr. Indecisive tells me quite firmly they need something very luxurious and very private. Fine. Mexico's out, so I instantly suggest a private island off the coast of Belize. Five villas, personal butler, menu created for you especially by the chefs, unbelievable luxury and very, very private. He's intrigued. He looks at the website and is instantly wowwed. So is the fiancee. Excellent, I think, at last I've got what they want. I get to work and set it up. I obtain a fabulous price because I am a fabulous travel agent and I know my luxury honeymoons. I call him back with a price: $8200 for seven nights including taxes and local air (but not the air from the States which he has already informed me he's going to get for free). For this price he gets a free two-category upgrade on the villa. It's a heck of a deal.
He practically spits up. He's shocked. He implies I'm ripping him off. I tell him I've given him exactly what he asked for since he would never give me a budget no matter how often I asked and a thousand bucks a day at this ultra-luxurious, ultra-private property is a steal. What, I say as patiently as I can, did you have in mind? He says (completely at random as far as I can tell) they wanted to spend $4000 on a ten night vacation.
I laugh in his face. I'm sorry, but I do. I have had it with him. He realizes what an ass he's just made of himself. He sputters a little. I tell him he's being completely unrealistic, he's asked me for three different vacations and gotten good prices, and I won't work on anything else unless he pays me a research fee. I am, in effect, telling him to put up or shut up. He gets on his high horse and tells me he can no longer work with me because, and this is my favorite part, I'm pressuring him. Yeah, right. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out, I say, albeit in slightly more dignified language. I hang up feeling hugely relieved. My bosses agree I was right to fire him. All is well, except I regret not getting to send someone to Cayo Espanto.
Listen, if you want to go, email me and I'll give you my work email address. It's a superb destination and I can get you a deal. Say hi to Steven Spielberg and Janet Jackson for me. And I promise, I never write any client stories about readers of this diary. But don't waste my time. You can't afford my research fee.
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