The problem with Airbnb

‘It was my first outing with Airbnb.’ Any write-up that begins on a note like this you know where it is headed – yes, spiralling down.

Texts don’t lie – 1

So before I proceed and make my case (the host had, while I was writing the Facebook post, threatened to give me such a terrible review which would make Airbnb tremble seeing my requisition for future stays – probably just like the crazy who totalled a pad which made Airbnb start with host insurance), I will stake a disclaimer: I had read ‘The Airbnb Story’ by journalist Leigh Gallagher by dint of which I became a close party to the meteoric rise of founders Chesky, Gebbia and Blecharczyk; I marvelled at their growth from renting out their spare room to over four million listings in close to 200 countries; marvelled more at the stickler that Chesky is for the ‘belonging’ mantra his company propagates. So, it wouldn’t be way off when I say I had my expectations high. Probably very high.

Travelling to Mumbai on work, I booked a room which was part of a condominium in the leafy Santa Cruz suburbs which belonged to a Superhost. The pictures showed a dainty place, double bed, wooden study tables, book shelves, colourful bric-a-brac on niches and two dogs. All these at a good rate. I confess the Superhost looked pretty too in the accompanying pictures. It couldn’t get any better. I flew Vistara, soaking in all the beauty up in the air, just out of a relationship. I hated Ratan Tata for making Niharika wear the sophisticated dungarees even though in burgundy.

Texts don’t lie – 2

Via WhatsApp I informed my host the airline name and the ETA – all pertinent details except the terminal. Later on it transpired that the host had mistaken the 2 PM ETA as ETA at her pad. Does anyone, save for pilots perhaps, ETA at houses? Nobody should call her Muggles for she was worse – heartless and rude. This was my first trip to Mumbai in a decade (which I didn’t tell her) but my first experience with Airbnb (which I had). A home is like any other, including your own, even if you are taking it on rent. You expect a certain warmth, joy and familiarity – just the traits Chesky would give his right arm for. By the time I landed and collected my luggage it was 2.30 when a most irascible exchange happened (as illustrated by the WhatsApp screenshot). Just as is the norm in such situations, I was saddled with the oldest OAP driver by the pre-paid taxi service company. Here was a cabbie who must have had begun his cabbie life after serving two jobs, back to back, into retirement. Guys on bicycles overtook us, I am not kidding. Each time I would ask him to speed up, he would snap ‘Kuch bola?’ Said something? I just shrugged and dug deeper into the seat. We were always the first ones to reach the signal as it turned red giving us ample time to glare at each other.

By the time I finally ‘ETAed’ at her pad, it was around 3 PM. I have seen warmer looks meted out by wives to the illegitimate sons of their husbands from mistresses who were go-go girls in the circus who had turned up to claim their share of the property.

“I make coffee in the morning,” she said. “If you are around you can have some.” I decided to swallow this as a lesson in humility. As a well-meaning ex claimed, I needed some.

“Switch off the geyser as soon as the water is hot, else it will catch fire.” I swear this is verbatim. The geyser was a piece which ideally should have been in the Smithsonian. It looked like an upended speech balloon but unlike an open cauldron where I could dip my finger and check if the water was hot.

The only time I was shoved into a room faster was 25 years ago when I snuck into the bedroom of my first serious girlfriend for a quickie while her parents kept calling her to join them for supper downstairs. The Superhost left soon afterwards texting me somebody was in the house to open the door in case I felt like stepping out. I was famished and stepped out. Upon returning I rang the bell to no reply. I texted her whether the friend had a number – still no reply.

O and AP ride together

It is easy to up and leave but difficult to stay and sort things. This is my favourite piece of wisdom. Favourite as I made it myself and tell it to everybody who cares to listen – so far only my Dad as he is too old to do otherwise. And at a rather difficult personal juncture in life, I decided to work it out, not unlike a challenge. I really wanted to. But when she chose to open the door – the Superghost was actually inside – a full hour later is when I decided to put my other apps into ops. Sent her a last message I sincerely hoped was funny before heading out to more familiar horizons where you know for sure fresh dry towels awaited, neatly folded (the house had wet ones which were hung out in my room – I didn’t know if the previous occupant had just used them before checking out), a smart welcome kit of soaps and shampoos and Ravi who ferried my luggage to my room. Ravi who told me about his hometown Odisha and despite it being his own backyard not having visited the Sun Temple.

See Brian (Chesky, if you ever read this), I know Airbnb is a people business and there are all kinds. Along with sending a professional photographer who shoots unreal photos, how about sending over somebody to do some grooming on the hosts as well? After all, this is a people business and the hosts are the first point of contact – not just with your service but with your company values and the way you are trying to change the world. 

The T in ETA is traffic

Checkout updates: The fair company Airbnb is, gave both the host and me an opportunity to explain our respective, incorrigible behaviours. Her biggest grouse was Airbnb, besides allowing my review to go public, taking not a dime from me. I reiterate my response to the Superhost: I am sorry about Airbnb not paying you even though they didn’t take their service charge either. Still, do quote a figure for the two hours I spent in your pad and the one visit to your washroom. Send me that along with your bank details and I will deposit the money. While at it, see if you can also remove the tight shot of the television which makes it look like it is part of the room you are renting out. As with those of the writing table, book shelf and flower arrangement.  

Following the traction this article received as a post on the Facebook page of Wanderink.com, I decided to make this a blog post with some modifications and updates. This by no means is an attempt to fester ignominy or promote disrepute. On the contrary, to further the glorious Airbnb ethos – that feeling of belonging even in a strange land.