Latest news with #Frankenstein-esque
Hospitality Net
12-06-2025
- Business
- Hospitality Net
The Hotel Company of the Future (What Happens When You Ditch the Three-Legged Stool)
Imagine a hotel company that doesn't rely on a Frankenstein-esque business model cobbled together from a franchise, a management company, and a brand – each with their own agenda, their own KPIs, and absolutely zero alignment. Imagine instead a sleek, modern, hospitality-first, customer-centric organization that actually makes sense. So yes, that's what the Hotel Company of the Future looks like. No, it's not flying through space or handing out holographic mojitos (yet) but it does something even more impressive: it works. Efficiently. Cohesively. Profitably. And above all – with the guest in mind. So, what are the secret components behind this hospitality masterpiece? Glad you asked – let's dive in. No Franchises, No Funny Business This company is not a franchise. Let me repeat: NOT a franchise. Because as I explain in both books Hospitality 2.0 and Hotel Tech 101, the franchise model is basically the hospitality industry's version of trying to run a restaurant with three chefs who all hate each other and refuse to share recipes. It doesn't work. That dreaded three-legged stool (a Frankenstein's monster assembled from franchisor, franchisee, and third-party manager duct-taped together) is simply dysfunctional. Instead, the company is fully owned and operated – or at least operated – by a single, accountable entity. No brand pyramids. No licensing drama. Just one company with full control and full responsibility. That means consistency, agility, clarity and one version of reality – without the need to decode ancient scrolls of brand standards or channel a shaman. Modern, Agile, and Ready to Pivot This is not your grandmother's hospitality group. The company of the future is sleek, nimble, and allergic to 'this is how we've always done it.' It's built to adapt, evolve, and – gasp – invest in things like technology before it becomes outdated. This company isn't afraid of failure because it prototypes fast, learns faster, and moves on even faster. Think agile sprints, not five-year waterfall roadmaps that never actually leave the dock. Leadership here isn't obsessed with corner offices and gold-plated titles – they're obsessed with growth, change, and guest impact. Cloud-Based Integrated Tech Stack with Middleware Magic At the core of this futuristic engine is a fully cloud-based, modular tech stack (primarily composed of best-of-breed third-party solutions, with some core components developed in-house to reflect and reinforce the brand's unique identity). Not just duct-taped APIs but real integration – connected through powerful intelligent middleware that makes even the most stubborn legacy systems show up on time, behave, and say please and thank you. A centralized Customer Data Platform (CDP) ensures that every guest touchpoint is not just remembered but anticipated. Your guest likes soft lighting, a room at 68°F, and obscure Icelandic jazz? Done. The tech stack doesn't just support operations; it powers personalization, drives decisions, and turns data into actual revenue. Redesigned Operations: No More Silos Traditional hotel companies have departments that act like estranged relatives – awkwardly smiling in the family photo while secretly blaming each other for everything. But the hotel company of the future? It works like a single organism. Operations, sales, marketing, revenue, finance – everyone is pulling the same cart in the same direction. Instead of reenacting a Russian fable where progress dies a dramatic death in a tug-of-war between a crayfish, a swan, and a nostalgic pike – this crew actually rows like they've got a common destination. KPIs are shared. Incentives are aligned. Everyone is driving toward one outcome: sustainable profit and guest satisfaction. This isn't utopia. It's just what happens when you stop rewarding people for hitting conflicting goals. Not rocket science, really. Profit, Not Just RevPAR Top-line revenue is a vanity metric. It's like bragging about the size of your grocery cart without realizing it's full of broccoli and no one's eating. The real target is profit. Not just for investors, but for the survival and scalability of the business. This company tracks NetTotalRevPAR, cost of acquisition, labor cost per occupied room, ROAS, displacement – you name it. Every decision is grounded in how it affects the bottom line, not how many heads were in beds on a Tuesday. Meet RPOP: The Mechanism Behind It All At the center of this whole operation is RPOP – the Revenue and Profit Optimization Platform. This isn't just a beefed-up RMS. This is a command center for your entire commercial strategy. It forecasts real demand using real-time, external and internal signals. It doesn't just set prices for your hotel rooms – it also guides marketing spends, supports sales strategies, and helps ops decide whether you need ten housekeepers or two and a robot dog. It's intelligent, cloud-based, scalable, and shockingly good at diplomacy – it gets all departments talking to each other (in profit language terms). One Commercial Leader to Unite Them All Instead of having five mid-level directors arguing over who gets credit for that last group booking, there's one unified leader: the Chief Commercial Officer (CCO). This person isn't a referee – they're a strategist. They oversee all commercial departments, report directly to the CEO, and have the authority (and budget) to drive real change. The CCO isn't bogged down in spreadsheets – they're focused on orchestrating commercial symphonies with the help of RPOP, ensuring every department is playing the same song. And most importantly, this person is a data native – someone who comes from the revenue management world, where decision-making is built on numbers, not gut feelings or the shape of the moon. Former revenue leaders are uniquely equipped for this role because they've already been trained to think holistically, connect dots across departments, and measure success in terms that actually show up on a P&L. If anyone understands the power of unified data, demand forecasting, and profit optimization – it's them. Lean Scalable Operations, Powered by Automation Thanks to automation, this company runs lean – like, actually lean, not 'we cut everyone and now ops is on fire' lean. Routine tasks are handled by tech. Forecasting, rate updates, reporting – all done by machines. That frees up staff to focus on what tech can't do: thinking strategically, building relationships, and making guests feel like rockstars. Labor costs go down, service quality goes up. Everyone wins. Even the robot dog. The Guest Is Still the Star Here's the twist: despite all the AI, automation, cloud platforms, and algorithmic wizardry, this is still a hospitality-first company. Not tech-first. Not finance-first. Hospitality-first. Guest satisfaction is a core metric. Not just because it looks good in the annual report, but because it actually drives loyalty, reputation, and long-term success. Guest satisfaction fuels loyalty, word-of-mouth marketing, five-star reviews, and repeat business – the holy grail of sustainable profitability. It's not just about avoiding complaints; it's about creating 'wow' moments that guests actually remember (and ideally, post about). Whether it's the room lighting adjusting automatically to their preference or the local snack waiting with a handwritten note that doesn't feel like it was mass-produced by ChatGPT, guests feel seen and appreciated. This hotel company isn't interested in cookie-cutter service – it's about delivering a consistent brand experience with room for personalization. Guests feel known, cared for, and occasionally surprised (in the thoughtful, 'how did they know I love chamomile tea?' kind of way, not the 'is this a social experiment?' way). Because yes, technology runs the engine. Profits make the world go round. But hospitality? That's still the heart. Brand Consistency, Local Flavor Finally, the brand. It's clear, consistent, and unforgettable. Guests know what to expect: comfort, tech-enabled ease, and a brand that delivers on its promise. They walk into any of your branded properties and know the vibe, the standards, and the service level they can count on – yet they still get that unique local flavor that makes it feel fresh, exciting, and rooted in place. It's not cookie-cutter. It's cupcake-with-regional-frosting. Familiar yet exciting, like a great sequel that doesn't ruin the original. The Final Unboxing This hotel company isn't hypothetical. It's the blueprint for what's possible when we stop settling for what's 'traditional' and start building what actually works. It's lean, intelligent, coordinated, scalable, guest-centric, and fiercely profitable. Now the only question is: who's bold enough to build it? Ira Vouk Ira Vouk Hospitality 2.0 Consulting
Express Tribune
11-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Express Tribune
Fahad's upper hand in style
Be it acting roles or outfits-of-the-day, Fahad Mustafa aces the challenge of bringing something new to the table. Now with Ramazan in full swing, the actor is back to stun his audience with a new ensemble everyday. Though, what stands out across all these garments are the uppers that he tops them off with. From vests to blazers to jackets, here are eight times Fahad triumphed in the upper game. More is more One of his latest attires to stir up a storm was a cream pixel-printed kurta shalwar, topped with an embroidered jacket. Geometrically sewn with pastel threads and a delicate spangle of sequins, the pale jacket added an elegant finish to the soft colours of the outfit, especially the light turquoise of the kurta's print. The embroidery featured abstract shapes and botanical touches, reminiscent of a painting. While his Monday post was all about the lighter palettes, the Sunday one shone in vibrant colours. Draping his beige kurta and trousers was a jacket displaying patches of dark browns, brick reds, and bright yellows among others. While the cream jacket's embroidery indulged gentle chaos, the patched jacket put on a brazen display with its irregularly stitched presentation. With nothing but veiny threads separating its patches, this Frankenstein-esque article celebrated variety in bold abundance. Cold and colder Never limiting himself to one direction, Fahad also knows how to keep it simple and classy. Keeping a uniform-toned ensemble with the exception of standout golden zippers, he donned a deep brownish purple jacket, exhibiting a silken look. With the weather getting warmer by the day, breezy outfits are becoming a natural go-to, and the Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum star is not one to stay behind. He finished the look off with dark shades and a black leather watch. The sun may be high in the skies, but Fahad still keeps it cool on the streets. "Confidence is the best outfit. Rock it and own it!" he said with this next outfit, which went for a deep blue canvas and intricate floral patterns on the jacket. Opting for dimmer colours on the flowers this time, the film star channelled regal excellence with this jacket, which was accentuated by a trickle of glittering sequins. He complemented the suave look with cool blue shades. Best in brown Fahad's next jacket slid over a dark green kurta shalwar, like the shadowy comfort of a rainforest. The jacket incorporated a blueish green hue among various shades of brown, all divided by wave-like, rugged patterns, adding to the soft tropical feel of the ensemble. Once again, the jacket seemed to be a player of its own, stealing the spotlight from an already impressive collection of fabrics. In sharp contrast to the dim feel of this jacket was a sepia vest over a brown and white florid top. The vest sported simple line art sprouting from the hem and extending to the chest. Fahad wore the collared piece loosely, keeping his signature casually cool way of presenting himself. This look also indicated his inclination towards botanical themes infused with intricate patterns and a motley of colours. Dark and classy Speaking of vests, please don't assume that this adored film and TV star only sticks to vibrant colours, for one of his most gleaming looks this month has been a navy ensemble. His deep blue pants and vests were dotted with stars, swimming in an impression of a constellation. Again, the upper vowed to stand apart, its openings laced with pale yellow to separate it from the rest of the ensemble. Staying true to his accessory inclinations, Fahad rounded the look with a pair of soft purple glasses, tying the midnight look together. And finally, no one can avoid black for too long, which was the Na Maloom Afraad star's safe start for this month. Donning a stylish shalwar kameez stitched with intricate patterns, he put on a black blazer patched down the chest and along the wrists. The touch of glamour elevated what could have been a plain and traditional look, embellishing it with finery that sparkled though without overwhelming the onlooker. Hardly anyone looks bad in black, yet Fahad still found a way to make the colour his own.
The Guardian
28-01-2025
- General
- The Guardian
My ‘Chinglish' has a cringe-inducing ocker accent – but I'm determined to pass it on to my child
My seven-month-old daughter lay on her play mat, each chubby fist clutching one puny foot. It was a perfect demonstration of the 'happy baby' yoga pose. I wanted to tell her so in Mandarin. 'Zhè shì kuàilè yīng'ér–,' I said. I stopped mid-sentence. Crap. What's the Mandarin word for 'yoga'? My daughter, all ruddy, dumpling cheeks and sprouting teeth, beamed up at me expectantly. I sighed and finished in English. This is the Frankenstein-esque Chinglish I am passing on to her: an unholy mash of kitchen-table Mandarin, English nouns and a cringe-inducing ocker accent. When I read her Chinese baby books, half the words are new to me. We are the blind leading the blind here. It's ironic that I'm teaching my daughter Mandarin (which I only learned properly in my 20s as a language student in Beijing) given how vigorously I used to deny my Chinese heritage. As a child of 1980s and 90s Australia, I recall speaking as loudly and in as broad an Australian accent as possible in public places just so no one mistook me for 'one of those Chinese people'. Back then, it felt safer to distance myself from my heritage. After all, it was only in 1973 – when my dad first boarded a plane from Malaysia to Sydney – that Australia officially renounced the last remnants of the White Australia policy and shifted towards multiculturalism. My dad understood that adopting Anglo Australian norms was part of the deal. This was before cheap air travel allowed for quick trips back to the mother country, so he assumed he had taken a one-way ticket. He worked hard alongside my mum to give my siblings and me the best opportunities, sending us to elite private schools. There, I encountered girls who seemed to embody the Australian ideal: tall, strapping, jocular country boarders who ruled the school. I failed to see that my own story – of immigrant parents sacrificing for their children – was quietly becoming part of Australia's evolving identity. It's unfair to say no effort was made to raise me bilingual; around age 10, I was sent to Saturday Chinese school. If I felt embarrassed to be Chinese in broader Australia, in these classrooms the opposite became true. I was consistently outperformed by pint-sized kindergarteners who spoke Chinese at home with their parents. I felt doomed never to catch up and the classes quickly fell by the wayside. Fast forward to 2025. Multiculturalism has gone from government policy to a source of national pride: the most recent Scalon Institute survey shows 85% agree multiculturalism has been good for the country. Multilingualism is now seen as both a personal and professional strength, creating opportunities to work overseas and in globalised markets. Studies demonstrate its cognitive benefits: boosting memory, problem-solving and mental flexibility, while also delaying dementia. I belong to a new generation of Australian parents who see immense value in passing on language skills to our children. But what, exactly, are we passing on? I'm struck by the similarity of experiences from second-gen friends across different cultures. Recalling my Chinese school 'struggle sessions' with a friend, she laughed – she'd had the same, but in Punjabi school. Like me, she intends to raise her newborn bilingually. 'And what?' I retorted. 'We're going to put our kids through the same humiliating experience?' I envisioned my daughter amid peers fluent in perfect standard Mandarin, children of graduates from China's top universities. In contrast, my hapless child would speak our unique blend of 'mongrel Mandarin', my little walking Steve Irwin-possessed Duolingo machine. 'Of course,' my friend said. Of course! Because that's what we do as parents: we try our best with what we have. Unlike my parents, I don't have fluency on my side, but I do have resources they lacked: bilingual childcare centres and playgroups, language apps and Zoom classes. Programs like Western Sydney University's Little Multilingual Minds are attempting to better support multilingual education – though much of the infrastructure, such as Saturday schools, remains community-driven, patchily funded and concentrated in cities. In 2023, the federal government announced a $15m investment over two years to support children learning languages other than English. There are times I feel like I'm cosplaying my Chinese heritage. My Mandarin is slow, stilted and unsure – more zombie than living language. What does it mean for my daughter to study from such an imperfect textbook? Or does it matter? A colleague once told me how, in her home, Portuguese faded after her father's migration to Australia. One of the few words that survived was 'chucha', a soft term for a dummy or pacifier. When her newborn daughter began to use a dummy, she instinctively used 'chucha'. For her, the word became more than just practical – it was a link to a language she barely spoke and a cultural identity she never fully claimed. 'It was a way of honouring the cyclic nature of things,' she said. 'Babies are born, babies use chuchas.' Because some things never change, right? And perhaps, she added, it was also a way of telling her father: 'Look, see? She's speaking Portuguese.' Language is more than grammar and vocabulary; it's a bridge through time. Even when fractured and messy, it connects us to those who came before and to those yet to come. One day, I imagine my daughter teaching her own child some fragment of our mongrel Mandarin – an awkward word or phrase I clumsily passed on to her – and I'll see how it's endured, nonetheless. In that moment, I'll know she's holding on to more than just a language; she's holding on to those stories – of hopeful journeys and sacrifices made – of our family. Monica Tan is the author of Stranger Country (Allen & Unwin, $34.99), winner of the 2020 best nonfiction prize at the Chief Minister's Northern Territory book awards.
