I was checking into a mid-range hotel after a long flight when a couple ahead of me quietly asked the front desk if there were any “free snacks” behind the bar.

The clerk smiled, the concierge raised an eyebrow, and the couple shrank a little.

I’ve felt that same shrinking before—like there are invisible rules everyone else learned on a field trip I missed.

This piece isn’t about judgment.

It’s about awareness, choice, and a few practical upgrades that make you feel at ease anywhere you go.

If you’ve ever worried that your “hotel habits” might read as unworldly to a more polished crowd, let’s rewrite the script together.

1. Asking for what’s “free” instead of what’s included

When we ask, “What do you have that’s free?” some staff hear, “I’m here to squeeze every perk.”

It can create defensiveness on both sides.

Try this instead: “Could you walk me through what’s included in my rate and anything complimentary for loyalty members?”

You’re signaling that you respect the service structure.

You’ll still get what’s available—minus the awkward energy.

And if you’re unsure, remember that clarity beats assumption.

A two-minute question at check-in can save three annoyed trips to the front desk later.

2. Treating housekeeping like a catch-all fix-it squad

If a light is out or the A/C is strange, many travelers default to calling housekeeping.

But in most hotels, engineering handles maintenance and the front desk coordinates requests.

Say: “Hi, could you connect me with maintenance about the A/C? Room 804.”
It’s concise and respectful of roles.

You’ll usually get a faster response, and staff will appreciate that you know the lane.

I still leave a short thank-you note when someone goes the extra mile.

Gratitude travels further than we think.

3. Turning the lobby into a picnic zone

I love a budget win.

But eating takeout with crinkly bags in plush lobbies can read as mismatched etiquette.

If you want to dine outside your room, ask if there’s a guest lounge or terrace where food is welcome.

Many properties will happily guide you to a designated space.

If not, your room is still the most gracious option—lay a towel on the desk, open the window if you can, and avoid strong, lingering smells.

Small adjustment, big shift in how at home you feel.

4. Treating staff like gatekeepers instead of guides

Luxury travelers often use staff as partners, not obstacles.

That mindset changes everything—especially when you need a favor.

Try these small, high-yield upgrades in how you ask (pick one or two and you’ll feel the difference):

• Lead with context: “We’ve got a 6 a.m. flight and need quiet for sleep—could we be away from the elevator?”

• Make it easy: “I can pick up the extra pillows at the desk if that helps.”

• Use names: glance at a name tag and say “Thanks, Maria. Really helpful.”

• Offer a window: “No rush—any time before 8 p.m. works.”

When I shifted from “Can you?” to “Could you help me figure out the best way to…,” doors started opening.

5. Loading the breakfast plate like it’s the last meal on earth

Buffets can trigger scarcity instinct.

We pile high, mix sweet and savory, and then rush like we’re on a timer.

It reads as stressed—and it’s not very enjoyable.

Here’s a calmer rhythm: take one plate, sit, taste, and only then decide if a second pass is worth it.

Use the tongs and spoons as intended.

Ask staff if you’re unsure about the toaster or waffle iron.

You save food, avoid mess, and carry yourself with ease.

If you want to bring something up to your room, check the policy and grab a napkin or small plate.

It’s a tiny detail that signals self-awareness.

6. Treating “late checkout” as a right, not a request

I know the urge to push the clock.

But housekeeping runs on tight turnarounds.

Assuming you can stay until 2 p.m. without asking puts strain on the team—and it shows.

Say: “Is late checkout possible today? If not, could I store my bag and use the lobby Wi-Fi for an hour?”

You’re giving options instead of a problem.

Staff often respond with flexibility when we offer flexibility first.

This is one of those places where personal responsibility meets comfort.

We can ask for what we want and still respect the system we’re in.

7. Hiding valuables but leaving signals of chaos

Stuffing cash in socks and scattering tech across the bed is a recipe for anxiety.

It also makes rooms harder to service and easier to misplace things in.

A simple upgrade: keep a “hotel set-up.”

Valuables go in the safe or a single zip pouch.

Chargers live in one outlet strip or organizer.

Trash in the bin, toiletries corralled on a towel by the sink.

It’s not about perfection—it’s about creating a reset point you can trust.

I started doing this on yoga retreats where space was shared.

My mind felt clearer, and packing to leave took five calm minutes instead of thirty frantic ones.

8. Assuming you need to “perform” wealth to be treated well

Here’s the truth: confidence and kindness read better than flash.

Overcompensating with name-dropping or performative complaints can backfire.

Try an internal check-in before you approach the desk: slow your breath, relax your shoulders, decide on one clear ask.

You don’t need a fancy watch to be taken seriously.

You need presence, a steady voice, and a willingness to collaborate.

As Rudá Iandê puts it in his new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos: “Their happiness is their responsibility, not yours.”

That line helped me stop chasing other people’s approval in service settings.

I focus on living with integrity, and I let the response land where it lands.

Final thoughts

If any of this stung, breathe.

Growth often starts there.

Pick two shifts you’ll practice on your next stay—maybe a cleaner way to ask for help and a calmer approach to breakfast.

Notice how the energy changes.

Rudá Iandê’s insights have nudged me to question the scripts I inherited and choose my own way—without pretending to be perfect, and without outsourcing my self-respect.

If you’re craving a fresh lens on everyday power and presence, his book Laughing in the Face of Chaos is worth exploring.

We’re almost done, but this piece can’t be overlooked: travel doesn’t make you someone else.

It reveals you.

So let it bring out your clarity, your kindness, and your quiet confidence—and leave the invisible rulebook at the door.