Executive privilege?
A friend and I were dismayed by the behavior of some junior tennis players taking part in a tournament at the Hilton Hotel's courts last week. Nearly as bad was the ineffectual response of the tennis complex's management to our complaints.
My friend, a member of the Hilton's Executive Club, had booked a court for Thursday afternoon. After braving assorted screaming girls in the women's locker room -- a taste of worse things to come, perhaps -- we began our game.
A few minutes later, two teenage boys arrived, threw their rackets and bags down in the corner and proceeded to tell the ball boy that they had a practice booking. When informed by us and the ball boy that we were signed up and our names were on the notice board, they decided to camp out on the court, perhaps waiting for us to give up and let them have their way.
Well, we didn't, but the distraction of their sulking presence, and their monkeying around -- screaming and chasing a gaggle of teenage girls on the adjoining court -- led us to ask the ball boy to get the manager.
He came, alright, but only to tell a coach on another court to wear a shirt; he informed our ball boy nonchalantly that there was nothing to worry about with our complaint as we "would be finished in a little while, anyway, and then the boys can play".
After we finished, we complained once again to the manager and told them that we would not pay because of the distraction. Unfortunately, after I had left, the ball boy came after my friend and made her pay for his services, even though we had already paid him.
It was an unsavory experience and not what one would expect from the Hilton, especially as my friend pays a handsome sum for the membership. The teenagers (all of the ugly ones we encountered were, like us, foreign nationals, with the Indonesians conspicuous in their polite behavior) seemed to think they owned the courts.
If they are the faces of tennis in the future, we decided we would like John McEnroe back, please.
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