Ethics Hero: Non-Weenie Bride-To-be Christina Leonard

If only more Americans understood, as Christina Leonard obviously does, that this nation was founded to be the home of the free and the brave, not the refuge of weenies.

Christina Leonard of Revere, Mass. had booked 10 rooms in September for $169 a night, plus tax, at Home2 Suites by Hilton for her wedding in Foxboro next May. Then she received an email from the hotel (on Route 1 in Walpole, Mass.—I know it well) canceling her room block. It had just been announced that Taylor Swift will be performing at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro that same Spring weekend. The hotel manager told Christina over the phone that “they could charge up to $1,000 per room for this.”

Gouging, then! What a classy operation Hilton runs.

Christina remind the hotel that she has signed a contract and sent it back, but the sales manager told her—HA!— he never signed it. She reminded him that she has emails confirming the dates. If she were a lawyer, she would have pointed out that she relied on the agreement, and that the hotel caused her to rely on it. In reality, the Hilton didn’t have a legal leg to stand on, but companies will often attempt to bluff non-lawyers with fake technicalities like “we never signed the contract we agreed to.” They do this because it usually works….with weenies.

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The “Now I’ll Make You Feel Bad For Insisting On Getting What You Paid For” Ploy

My hotel room TV, post Fred.

My hotel room TV, post Fred.

I’m in the midst of a legal ethics tour of Virginia, moving from one hotel to another. Last night I arrived at a Richmond Hilton at 11 pm, after fighting the usual traffic jams from late night construction on Rt.95 in my two hour car trip to get there. Oh, I had all the usual fun: the room that I had been told was pre-paid by my hosts wasn’t; later, the Wi-Fi in the room didn’t work. First, however, I immediately noticed that room 527 featured a TV that was hanging limply from its pedestal, forward and to the left. I guess I could have watched it sort of comfortably if I sat cross-legged on the floor with my head tilted to one side like President Buchanan.

I decided to call the desk instead.

The chirpy clerk answered my call brightly. “Yes, Mr. Marshall, what can I do for you?” she said.

“Well, my TV is broken. The screen is crooked, and it’s tipping off its pedestal.” Continue reading