DearOhad

Weekend Edition / Dear Ohad...

Elite perks that feel like pranks, communal shampoo trauma, Wyndham’s promo labyrinth, robe theft ethics, and the awkward art of saying “I want my own room.” This week, Ohad checks into hotel chaos with sass, sarcasm, and zero tolerance for loyalty program gaslighting.

Weekend Edition / Dear Ohad...
📍Writing to you from downtown London, where the weather is grey, the coffee is £6, and every street looks like a Sherlock Holmes reboot no one asked for. I came for the friends and left with soggy socks and trust issues.
🏨
Dear Ohad,
I’m Titanium with Marriott and just got “upgraded” to a room next to the elevator and across from the ice machine. Do elite benefits mean nothing anymore?
—Loyalty Programmed

Dear Programmed,
Welcome to Bonvoyed, the ancient ritual where your loyalty is rewarded with a view of the HVAC unit and a 2 p.m. checkout “if available.”

Let’s decode Marriott’s elite hierarchy:

  • Silver: Cute. You're trying.
  • Gold: Still sleeping next to the mop closet.
  • Platinum: You exist, barely.
  • Titanium: Now you’re eligible for mild disappointment in a robe.

The upgrade “subject to availability” clause is corporate for we gave your suite to the family with matching t-shirts who booked through Expedia.

Solution? Check in via app, show up early, and sweet-talk the front desk like you’re auditioning for The Bachelor. Elite status isn’t a guarantee—it’s a negotiation.

🧴
Dear Ohad,
At my Hyatt last weekend, they removed all the individual toiletries and replaced them with those giant wall-mounted shampoo jugs. Am I supposed to feel pampered or like I’m in a gym locker room?
—Sudsy & Suspicious

Dear Sudsy,
Ah yes, the Great Pump Bottle Invasion. Part eco-friendly, part cost-cutting, 100% no thanks.

Nothing says “luxury” like sharing Pantene with 400 strangers and wondering if it’s secretly body wash.

Let’s be clear:

  • I support the planet.
  • I do not support mystery goo in a communal dispenser that clicks like a haunted Pez machine.

Pro tip: Bring your own mini toiletries. It’s either that or risk smelling like the last guest’s regrets.

🏝️
Dear Ohad,
Wyndham’s running a “Stay 2 Nights, Get a Free Night” promo—but when I tried to redeem it, the website crashed, the points didn’t post, and the customer service line put me on hold for 53 minutes. Is this a loyalty program or a trap?
—Points & Peril

Dear Peril,
You’ve fallen into the Wyndham Vortex™—where the promos are shiny, the redemptions are mythical, and the customer service reps are actually wind chimes.

Here’s the game:

  1. Dangle the free night.
  2. Require a PhD in quantum mechanics to claim it.
  3. Blame IT when it vanishes.

They technically owe you that night. But practically? You’ll be dead or Diamond status by the time it posts.

Call again, escalate to a supervisor, and use the magic words: Better Business Bureau. Or just switch to a program where “free night” doesn’t mean “emotional journey.”

🎁
Dear Ohad,
Is it wrong to take the robe from the hotel room? I mean, it feels like a souvenir.
—Bathrobe Bandit

Dear Bandit,
It’s only wrong if you get caught.

Let’s break this down:

  • Slippers: Fair game. They want you to take them.
  • Toiletries: Absolutely. Fill your bag. Fill your soul.
  • Robes: This is where morality gets fuzzy (like the robe).

If it's plush and monogrammed, it's not a gift—it’s $110 on your card tomorrow. If it feels like it came from a Marriott Fairfield in Tulsa, take it and run. They’ll never notice.

Just don’t try to smuggle out a pillow. You’re loyal, not lawless.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑
Dear Ohad,
I’m traveling with a friend who insists we always split hotel beds instead of booking separate rooms. How do I politely say I want my own space without sounding bougie?
—Queen Bed, Solo Dreams

Dear Solo,
You don’t sound bougie—you sound sane.

There’s a difference between being travel buddies and recreating summer camp.

You deserve:

  • A bed without someone else's knee in your kidney.
  • A bathroom mirror not fogged up from their skincare routine.
  • Five minutes of silence in the morning before someone asks where breakfast is.

Just say: “I love you, but I travel better with my own space. Let’s meet in the lobby and not in REM sleep.” If they’re offended, they’re not a friend—they’re a financial liability in fleece pajamas.

Until next time...
May your upgrades be real, your robes fluffy, and your suite not smell like the indoor pool.

Got a hotel horror story, elite tantrum, or minibar crime to confess? Email me at newsletter@upnonstop.com.

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