Tag: hospitality

  • The Airport Lounge in Hanoi

    It was late evening at Hanoi airport. Five of us were moving through the terminal — my parents, my twin brother Jerry, my young niece, and me. We had just been through check-in and security. We were tired. We had a domestic flight to catch down to Da Nang — a coastal city in central Vietnam often called the Miami of Vietnam — where we were going to spend a few days together as a family.

    If you have ever traveled with family in a busy Asian airport, you already know how the next part usually goes. Crowded waiting areas. Long lines for overpriced food at the gate. A toddler getting fussy because she is tired and hungry and confused about what is happening. The parents trying to keep everyone calm. The adults trying not to lose their patience.

    But instead of heading toward the gate, I turned to my parents and told them to follow me. I had a small surprise.

    I led the five of us to a different door, tucked off the main terminal corridor. At the entrance, the staff member checked my card. She looked at the others behind me, then at me again. She told me, gently, that she had never seen five people come in together on a single membership. It was the first time, she said. Then she smiled and waved us all in.

    We spent the next two hours inside an airport lounge.

    Comfortable chairs that did not have armrests digging into your sides. Quiet. A hot buffet that nobody had to count or apologize for. Drinks in real glasses. A small play space my niece could wander in without bothering anyone. Wi-Fi that actually worked.

    My parents kept saying they could not believe it was free. They kept asking me if I was sure. They kept looking around the room like they had been let into a place they were not supposed to be allowed in.

    And I had not paid a single dollar extra to give them that experience. The lounge access was simply included with a card I was already using to pay for groceries and my phone bill.

    This piece is about that card, and the other one that took me to Seoul a few weeks earlier, and what I learned along the way about a tool I had spent years being afraid of.

    The misunderstanding I had for years

    When I first arrived in Canada at fifteen, credit cards felt scary to me.

    My parents had always warned me about debt. My friends talked about credit card debt the way people talk about a trap you fall into. The story I absorbed, without really questioning it, was that credit cards were dangerous things designed by banks to take advantage of regular people. The smartest move, I assumed, was to avoid them completely and just use my debit card for everything.

    That was a mistake.

    Let me be careful here, because the warning is partly true. Credit cards used badly will ruin your life. The interest rates are brutal. If you spend more than you can afford and carry a balance from one month to the next, the system eats you alive. My parents and friends were right to warn me about that side of it.

    But credit cards used carefully are something different. They are one of the most powerful tools a working person has to get more value from money they are already spending.

    The key word is carefully.

    The rules I live by are simple, and I want to put them right at the top of this piece before I tell you anything else.

    I only spend what I would have spent anyway. I pay the full balance every single month. I never carry debt from one statement to the next. If you cannot trust yourself to do those three things, you should not read the rest of this post as a recommendation. It is not.

    For those who can, here is what changed for me.

    The Marriott Bonvoy Amex

    The first card I signed up for is the Marriott Bonvoy American Express Card.

    I signed up because I love travel, and I knew that one day I wanted to take my family on nicer trips than my paycheck could normally cover. The card earns points you can redeem for free hotel nights at Marriott properties around the world. Like most travel cards, the biggest single burst of points comes from the welcome bonus — a large amount given to you when you sign up, as long as you spend a certain minimum in the first few months.

    In my case, the welcome bonus was 65,000 points. That alone was enough to cover several free nights at a decent hotel.

    But there is a second benefit I did not fully appreciate at first. Every year on my card anniversary, Marriott gives me a free night certificate. One voucher, good for one free night at many of their hotels around the world, simply for keeping the card active.

    On its own, an anniversary night is not life-changing. It is one night a year. But year after year, those certificates add up. A free night in a city I had been wanting to visit. A free night to spoil my parents or my brother when they come to visit me.

    The rest of the points I earned slowly, simply by using the card for expenses I was already making. Groceries. Phone bill. Gas. The small purchases at the convenience store that add up quietly over time. Nothing I would not have bought anyway. The only difference was that instead of swiping my debit card and watching the money disappear into the void, I was paying with a card that was collecting points in the background.

    Then I paid the balance in full at the end of every month. No interest, ever.

    A year or so later, I had enough points for a real trip.

    Five free nights in Seoul

    I had been dreaming of visiting Seoul, South Korea for a long time. I had been learning Korean on my own. I wanted to see the country in person, hear the language spoken around me, eat the food at the source, experience the culture I had only seen through a screen.

    When I started looking at hotels for the trip, the prices made me pause.

    A decent hotel room in Seoul was running around two hundred and fifty dollars a night. Five nights would have meant well over a thousand dollars on accommodation alone, before I had even paid for flights, food, transit, or anything else. For a supervisor working steady but not luxurious shifts at a downtown hotel, that was not a small amount of money. It was the kind of number that would have made me think twice about going at all.

    But I did not pay it.

    I remember sitting at my kitchen table one evening, my laptop open to the Marriott rewards page, staring at my points balance and the booking calendar side by side. I had to do the math twice. The points I had been quietly accumulating — mostly from the welcome bonus, topped up by months of normal daily spending — were enough to cover all five nights at a Marriott in the middle of Seoul.

    I could not believe five nights in Seoul would be completely free. I sat there for a while just looking at the screen.

    The only real cost was the annual fee on the card. Once you compare that fee to the value of five free hotel nights in a major international city, the math is obvious. The card more than paid for itself on a single trip.

    And I had not changed my life to make it happen. I was not spending more than usual. I was not skipping meals or cutting corners. I was paying for the same expenses I would have paid for anyway, but with a card that gave me something back for it.

    The money was leaving my bank account either way. The only question was whether anything came back.

    If after reading this you decide the Marriott Bonvoy American Express Card might be useful for your life, I have a personal referral link that gives you a larger welcome bonus than the standard public offer — at the time of writing, that is 100,000 points after meeting the spending requirements, compared to 75,000 from the public offer. Credit card offers change over time, so please verify the current terms on the American Express website before signing up. If you are approved through my link, I receive 15,000 points as a referral bonus.

    You can find my referral link here.

    If using a referral link from a stranger on the internet feels strange, the public offer is easy to find on the American Express website. The card is the same either way.

    The Scotiabank Passport Visa Infinite

    The second card gave me one of the most meaningful experiences of the last few years.

    It is the Scotiabank Passport Visa Infinite. It earns travel rewards, like most travel cards. But it comes with something I did not fully appreciate until I used it for the first time.

    Complimentary airport lounge access.

    If you have never been inside one, let me describe it. A lounge is a separate area inside the airport where you can wait for your flight in a much nicer environment than the crowded gate. Comfortable seating with space around you. Quiet, or at least quieter than the terminal. A buffet with hot food, drinks, desserts, snacks. Clean bathrooms. Wi-Fi that actually works.

    Normally, to get inside, you either need to be flying business class — which costs thousands of dollars more than economy — or pay a day rate at the lounge itself, often fifty to one hundred dollars per person.

    With this card, I get free access to hundreds of lounges around the world. And I can bring guests with me for free.

    I did not understand how powerful this was until that night in Hanoi.

    After my trip to Seoul, I had flown back to Vietnam to spend time with my family. We had planned a short trip down to Da Nang together. All five of us. And we were now at Hanoi airport, waiting for our flight, with all the tiredness and noise that comes with traveling as a family at the end of a long day.

    When I led them to the lounge that evening, what was happening inside me was something more than satisfaction. My parents had spent most of their lives working long hours. Fourteen-hour days. The kind of work that does not leave room for luxuries. They had sacrificed a lot to send me and Jerry to Canada when we were fifteen, with the hope that we would build a different kind of life there.

    And now, more than a decade later, in their own country, in a busy airport, I was the one leading them into a quiet room where everything was already paid for.

    That experience is worth more to me than any dollar figure I could put on it.

    Being honest about the costs

    I want to be honest about the other side of all of this, because any real advice has to include the full picture.

    Both of these cards have annual fees, and the fees are not small. They are in the range you would expect from premium travel cards. If you never travel, never stay in hotels, and never fly, these cards are probably not for you. The annual fee would cost you more than you would ever get back.

    But for someone who uses them intentionally, the math is overwhelmingly positive. The five free nights in Seoul paid for the Marriott Amex many times over. The airport lounge experience with my family was worth more than the Scotiabank fee for years to come. And in the meantime, both cards continue to earn points from my everyday spending, which means the next free trip is already being built in the background.

    Let me put the three rules again, more firmly this time.

    Never spend money you would not have spent anyway just to earn points.

    Never carry a balance month to month.

    Never sign up for a card if you cannot trust yourself to pay it off in full.

    The moment you start paying interest, the entire system breaks. All the points in the world cannot outweigh what high interest rates will do to someone carrying a balance.

    Used wrong, credit cards will ruin your life.

    Used right, they will quietly add experiences to your life that you could not otherwise afford.

    The difference is entirely in how you use them.

    The bigger lesson

    Credit cards are just one specific example of a much bigger idea.

    There are countless ways to use the same money more intelligently. Most people never look for them because they are busy, tired, and focused on getting through the week. Most people assume money only flows in one direction — out of their hands, gone forever, with nothing left over.

    But once you start asking the simple question — is there a smarter way to spend the money I am already spending? — you will start finding answers in places you were not looking. Reward programs. Cashback offers. Loyalty bonuses. Membership discounts. Off-season pricing. Free experiences you are already eligible for but did not know about.

    Almost no one teaches you any of this. You have to go looking.

    Every time I paid for something with my debit card, I was handing over money and getting nothing back. Every time I paid the same thing with a rewards card and then paid it off in full at the end of the month, I was getting something back for the exact same purchase.

    The money left my bank account either way. The only difference was what came back.

    This essay is adapted from my book, Alive After Hours. If it spoke to you, the book goes deeper.

  • The Day My Shift Got Cancelled

    A couple of years ago, on a beautiful fall day, I was supposed to go to work. I had already prepared myself for the shift.

    Then I got the call. Business was slow. The hours were not needed. The shift was cancelled.

    I had been in hospitality for years by that point. I was a supervisor. I was financially stable in the way someone in their late twenties can be — I paid my bills, I had savings, I was investing every month, I was not living paycheck to paycheck anymore. On paper, I was fine.

    I want to describe what happened in my chest in that moment, because it surprised me.

    I felt panic.

    Not a small inconvenience. Not a “oh, that is annoying” feeling. A real, physical sense that something had been taken from me. My breath got shorter. I sat with the phone in my hand and felt my mind start running calculations.

    Here is the part that stopped me. I had savings. I had an emergency fund. The cancelled shift was not going to make me homeless. I was going to be completely fine. And I still felt the panic.

    That afternoon stayed with me for a long time. Not because of the lost hours. Because of what the panic told me about the life I had built without realizing it.

    Why the panic happened

    The panic was not really about the dollars.

    It was about a quieter realization that had been sitting in the background of my life for years, and finally surfaced.

    The income I had been counting on every month was not actually under my control. Someone else got to decide whether I worked that day. Someone else got to decide what my month looked like. I was the one absorbing the consequences of their decision.

    I had already counted that money. I had not consciously decided to count it. I just had. Somewhere in the back of my head, before the shift was cancelled, I had been doing the math that anyone who works for hourly wages does without thinking. This week I will work this many hours. That is roughly this much. Out of that, this much goes to rent. This much to bills. This much to investing. This much to food.

    The shift cancellation did not just remove a few hours of pay. It removed a number that had already been spent in my mind. The rent did not change. The bills did not change. Only the pay had changed. And I was the one who had to close the gap.

    You can be paid well. You can be valued at work. You can have savings. The shift can still get cancelled. The hours can still get cut. The economy can still slow down.

    As long as your entire income depends on one company deciding to give you hours, that fragility is in your life whether you admit it or not.

    The boring foundation

    Before I tell you what I did about this, I want to back up and talk about something boring. The thing that made the panic survivable in the first place, even if it did not make the panic disappear.

    An emergency fund.

    If you have read any book on personal finance in the last twenty years, you already know what this is. If you have not, here is the whole concept in one sentence. An emergency fund is a specific amount of money, kept in a separate savings account, that exists for one purpose only — to protect you when life goes wrong.

    Your car breaks down. You lose your job. You have a medical bill insurance does not fully cover. A family member gets sick and you need to fly home. Your hours at work get cut. Your laptop dies and you need a new one. Your shift gets cancelled.

    These are not rare situations. They happen to almost everyone, eventually.

    Without an emergency fund, every one of these becomes a crisis. With one, every one of these becomes an inconvenience. Annoying, but manageable.

    The number most books point to is six months of basic expenses — rent, groceries, utilities, transportation, insurance — kept in a separate savings account you do not touch unless something has actually gone wrong.

    I want to say this plainly, because the books often skip past it. Six months is a lot of money. The first time I read that number, I closed the book and laughed. It felt impossible. Like advice written for someone in a different life than mine.

    So I will tell you what I actually did instead.

    How I actually built it

    I broke the mountain into pieces.

    Six months sounded impossible. One month sounded a little less impossible. One thousand dollars sounded almost doable.

    So I started there. One thousand dollars. That was the first goal. Once I hit it, I let myself feel proud of it for about a day, and then I set the next one. One month of basic expenses. Then two. Then three. Then six.

    Each milestone was small enough that I could see the next one. I never let myself think about the whole climb. I only thought about the next step.

    The way the money actually moved was simple. Every payday, before I saw the money in my main account, a portion went into a separate savings account. I did not have to decide each time. I did not have to summon willpower each time. The transfer happened automatically. By the time I noticed, the money was already gone. I lived on whatever was left.

    I want to be honest about one thing. There were many times I was tempted to dip into that money. A new restaurant was about to open in my neighborhood, and I had been excited to try it for weeks. Each time I felt that pull, I had to remind myself why the money was there.

    It was not for now. It was for the day I would need it.

    It took me months and months of discipline. Not the heroic kind. The boring kind. The kind where you keep showing up paycheck after paycheck even when nothing visible is happening.

    The day I finally crossed the six-month mark was one of the most powerful days of my life.

    What it actually feels like

    I want to take a moment to describe what changed in me on that day, because I think it is the part of the story most people do not talk about.

    Before I had the emergency fund, every shift at the hotel carried a small invisible weight.

    Every day before going to work, I felt a quiet worry that I might do something wrong. A small mistake with a guest. A detail my supervisor noticed. The mistake would affect my performance. A bad performance review would mean my hours could be cut. The hours would affect everything else in my month.

    I came to almost every shift carrying that pressure on my back, even when I never said it out loud.

    If business slowed down, my hours could be cut without me making a single mistake. If the economy went into a recession, the whole industry could collapse. I did not consciously think about these things every day. But they were always there, in the background, shaping how I felt about my work and my life.

    After I built the fund, that weight disappeared.

    If my manager called me into his office tomorrow and told me I was being let go, I would not panic. I would shake his hand, say thank you for the opportunity, walk out of the building, and know with complete certainty that I had at least six months to figure out what came next. Six months to apply for new jobs. Six months to take a breath, think clearly, and make good decisions instead of desperate ones.

    This is the difference between living in fear and living in freedom.

    Most people show up to work every day in a state of quiet fear, even if they would never admit it. They are afraid of losing the one income source that holds their entire life together. That fear shapes everything. It makes them tolerate disrespect from bosses they should not tolerate. It makes them stay silent when they should speak up. It traps them in jobs they have outgrown.

    A six-month emergency fund changes the relationship completely. You still go to work. You still do your job well. You still treat your guests, your patients, your customers with care. But you do it from a place of choice, not fear.

    That single shift, more than any specific dollar amount in your account, is what real financial peace feels like.

    A note if you are stretched thin

    I want to take a moment to talk to you directly, because I know what some of you are thinking.

    Some of you are thinking, “Tom, that is great for you, but I cannot afford to do this. I am barely paying my bills as it is.”

    I hear you. And I want to be honest. Saving is harder when you are stretched thin. There is no clever trick that magically makes more money appear in your bank account.

    But I would also gently push back on the idea that you cannot start.

    The amount you start with does not matter as much as the habit of starting. Even ten dollars a paycheck is a beginning. Even twenty. Even fifty. The number is not the point. The point is that you are building a system, and you are training your brain to think of yourself as someone who saves.

    When I started, the amount I was putting in was small. The kind of amount that felt almost pointless. Embarrassingly small, honestly, compared to what I have been able to save since. But the habit was the same. The system was the same. The discipline was the same. And the system grew with me as my income grew.

    If you wait until you have “enough money to start,” you will probably wait forever. Life always finds a way to consume whatever you earn. Rent goes up. Food gets more expensive. New temptations show up every month.

    The only way to break out of that cycle is to pay yourself first, before life has a chance to take it from you.

    So even if all you can spare right now is a small amount, start. The habit matters more than the amount.

    The quiet thing nobody talks about

    An emergency fund is not exciting.

    It does not multiply your money. It does not make you rich. It does not earn you bragging rights at parties. Nobody is going to write a viral post about it. The interest it earns sitting in a savings account is small enough to feel almost insulting.

    But it gives you the one thing that nobody talks about, which is also the only thing that actually matters.

    It gives you the ability to make choices from a place of safety.

    To leave a job that is hurting you, instead of staying because you need the paycheck. To take a week off when a family member is sick, instead of working through it. To say no to something that is wrong for you. To say yes to something that scares you. To negotiate. To wait. To rest.

    The shift can still get cancelled. The hours can still get cut. The unexpected can still arrive at the wrong time.

    You will just feel different about it when it does.

    This essay is adapted from my book, Alive After Hours. If it spoke to you, the book goes deeper.