In the center of Silicon Valley, a hotel's
experiment brings the first virtual concierge into the real world
By Rhodes Fishburn,
Forbes ASAP 2001
For six years, concierge
Anna Morris worked in the lobby of the Westin Hotel in Santa Clara, California,
answering questions ranging from how to unzip computer files to what to do if
you've packed two left dress shoes and your interview is in an hour. But
perhaps her most challenging inquiry came recently, when a man asked, "Are
you real, or are you a computer?"
It was a reasonable
question, given that hotel guests saw only an image of Morris projected on a
44-inch plasma monitor behind the concierge desk where she used to work. In the
past five months she has stepped out of her physical role and into a virtual
one, so she can operate 75 miles away from the hotel with the flexibility her
life demands. After five years of battling the two-hour commute from her home
in Antioch, California, she was exhausted. Gridlock, coupled with the arrival
of her second child, forced her to consider quitting her job unless an
alternative arrangement could be made.
Bruce Carpenter, the
hotel's general manager, says two factors played a role in the decision to go
virtual: the six years of intellectual capital that Anna had acquired on the
job (learning everything from where to buy a laptop battery to the fastest way
to travel to San Francisco) and her close relationships with the hotel's
regular guests (some of whom spend as many as 100 nights a year at the Westin).
The hotel spent more
than $40,000 to install videoconferencing equipment and to hook up an always-on
T1 line in an empty upstairs bedroom in Virtual Anna's house. "It was a
substantial investment," says Carpenter, "but, honestly, so is
she."
The new arrangement
allows Morris to work from 7 a.m. to noon, take afternoons off with her
children, and go back in front of the camera from 5 to 8 p.m.
Not everyone who
approaches the desk is comfortable talking to a 3-by-4-foot monitor, hung
slightly above eye level. Today, as two young men skirt the perimeter of the
room, averting their eyes and looking at her only when they think she's not
looking back, it's easy to think of Virtual Anna as one part confessional and
one part Wizard of Oz. Will hotel guests ask the friendly pixelated face where
to buy edible underwear or repeat that they want T-R-O-J-A-N-S?
"Can I help
you?" she asks the startled young men. "Us?" they giggle.
"Hmm, yes, uh, wow, could you give us some maps of the conference
rooms?"
Being virtual is not
always good. The occasional technical glitch freezes Morris' face into one
position while her voice continues. And there's a special hazard associated
with not being physically present: Last year, as several guests checked out,
they stopped by the monitor to thank Morris for her help. "I have a
present for you," said one man, flashing a box of chocolates in front of
the camera, "but you're not here, so I guess..."
"Oh," said
Virtual Anna, thinking quickly. "Thank you. Actually, you can leave them
in the second drawer to your left."