Help, I Love My Kidnapper

Hospitality Net

13-05-2025

'One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we've been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We are no longer interested in finding the truth.The bamboozle has captured us. It's simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we've been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back' –
Carl Sagan
Blink twice if you need to be rescued.
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Picture this: you're locked in a room for 25 years with someone who takes your wallet, controls who you talk to, insists you smile through it all, and occasionally lets you feel like you're winning (but only if you give even more).
Healthy relationship? Not quite.
Congratulations. You're living the dream known as hotel distribution. Welcome to OTA Stockholm Syndrome where the captors hide behind shiny apps and billion-dollar ad budgets, charge a 30% 'friendship fee,' and somehow... we've started calling it a partnership.
Once upon a time, right after 9/11, hotels were desperate. The guests were gone, the phones were silent, and along came these charming online travel agencies, flashing easy bookings, new visibility, and promises of partnership. They weren't just a helping hand – they were the creepy neighbor who helped fix your fence… then quietly claimed your backyard as part of theirs.
And we fell for it. We latched onto them. Threw them a parade. Wrote them thank-you notes. Handed over a spare key... and forgot to ever change the locks.
Fast forward 25 years.
Now we're trauma bonded. So bonded that we defend them on LinkedIn panels: 'But they bring me bookings!' 'But they help me with marketing!' "But they're so big and powerful, it's not like I can do anything!"
Sound familiar? It's classic Stockholm Syndrome. At this point, if OTAs raised commissions to 50% and demanded a free muffin with every reservation, half the industry would politely ask, 'Would you like gluten-free?'
How Did It Come to This?
It started small. Just a few bookings here, a small commission there. Nothing too damaging, right?
Then came rate parity handcuffs ("Sure, we'll help you but you can't sell cheaper on your own website!").
Then the inventory hijacking ("We'll just quietly scoop up your rooms through wholesalers and sell them cheaper than you do, making it look like you don't know how to manage your own prices."
Then the mandatory 'preferred' status extortion ('Pay us more commission – or disappear into the second page, where hotel dreams go to die.')
Then loyalty programs ("Just discount your own rates for our loyalty customers… you know, the ones you already earned yourself.").
And it went on… and on… and on.
Hotels, being the ever-optimistic romantics that we are, kept believing.
'They have our best interests at heart.'
'They would never use my brand keywords to outbid me on Google.'
'They love me for me.'
Meanwhile, OTAs were playing 5D mind chess, setting traps three moves ahead – and hotels were still arguing over who gets to be the red checker.
Signs You Might Be Suffering from Hotel Stockholm Syndrome:
You refer to OTAs as your 'partners' with a straight face.
You defend 20-30% commissions because "it's just the cost of doing business."
You feel guilty for exploring direct booking strategies, like you're cheating.
You celebrate OTA awards like they're Michelin stars. 'Congrats! You paid us the most!'
You treat your OTA account manager like a trusted advisor of your pricing strategy.
Your OTA share is bigger than direct, and instead of panicking you're bragging about it in meetings.
You've stopped comparing commissions to other costs. It's just 'the air we breathe now.'
You feel a tiny twinge of guilt (and fear) every time you wish you could cut ties.
you could cut ties. You've started wondering if maybe, just maybe… you should thank them in your will. (Because after all, they've already taken everything else.)
Why Do We Stay?
Because change is hard. Because the trauma is familiar.
Because even when they make us bid against ourselves on Google, demand our best rates, bury us under properties that pay higher commissions, and woo away our loyal guests, we keep saying, "Maybe it's just a phase. They're under a lot of pressure, too."
Bless our hearts.
The truth is, OTAs didn't just bring bookings – they brought full-on, textbook gaslighting. The kind therapists warn you about.
They made us doubt our own worth: 'Without us, no one would even notice you.'
They dismissed our efforts: 'Direct bookings? Cute idea, but let's be realistic.'
They twisted reality: 'Guests don't really want you, they want us to tell them you exist.'
And now? We flinch at the idea of independence, like a victim too gaslit to remember they were whole before the manipulation began.
Meanwhile, other industries have gotten wise to this. Airlines fought back. Retailers fought back. Even restaurants fought back (have you tried telling a restaurant they must offer a cheaper price on Uber Eats than on their own website? Good luck. It's actually the opposite, prices are almost always higher on food delivery apps).
Hotels? We're still writing sonnets to our captors.
Oh Booking, I swore I'd walk away…
then you dangled a preferred status badge, and I came running like a fool in a loyalty loop.
Dearest Expedia, you steal my margins yet gift me occupancy.
A thief… with benefits.
We're one booking away from writing Fifty Shades of OTA Commission.
The Breakup You've Been Waiting For
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
The second step is realizing you are not powerless.
Technology has caught up. Consumers are smarter. New tools like those offered by roomangel exist to help guests trust direct channels again, leveling the playing field, giving guests that warm, fuzzy 'this site looks legit and I won't be scammed' feeling – the kind OTAs spent millions manufacturing with slick UX and brand confidence. Now, you can do the same… without the 30% middleman fee and digital codependency.
Guests want to book direct, they just need to feel safe doing it. (They also wouldn't mind if your website didn't look like it was built during the MySpace era, but that's another topic.)
Look, freedom is scary. Independence takes work. But it's better than handing over 30% of your income plus your firstborn to someone who wouldn't even give you a call on your birthday.
It's time to stop calling this a 'partnership' and start calling it what it is: a toxic addiction.
And the best part? It's totally breakable. One bold step at a time.
Conclusion: Your Exit Strategy Starts Now
We're not saying OTAs are evil. (Okay, maybe a little.)
But let's call this relationship what it is: co-dependent, unhealthy, and long overdue for a reset.
The longer we pretend it's normal, the more we lose – not just money, but something far more important: control of our guest relationships, our brand, and our future.
Break free. Take a deep breath. The real world isn't that scary.
Trust yourself. Trust your guests.
And maybe, just maybe, next time you walk into the ITB conference hall, you'll recognize the captors standing at their sponsor booths – and keep on walking.
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Brian Reeves
Founder and CEO, The roomangel Foundation
About The roomangel Foundation
The roomangel Foundation is a nonprofit initiative on a mission to restore fairness and transparency in hospitality distribution. By empowering travelers to book directly and helping hotels reclaim control over their guest relationships, roomangel offers the tools, trust signals, and technology to intermediate hotel bookings.
To join the Foundation, visit the website here: www.roomangel.org.
Ira Vouk
VP Global Partnerships
roomangel Foundation