Suite Dreams

The Rio, a Las Vegas hotel, offers perks to lure gambling’s elite THE SEARCH for a true one-to-one marketing program has ended in Las Vegas. The catch is that only about 200 individuals worldwide qualify for it: an elite group of gamblers who can walk up to a table with a $1 million credit line at their fingertips.

Even at that level, however, heavy initial losses can discourage continued play. And a casino’s hold increases dramatically the longer a guest stays at a game.

So, many hotels offer incentives like complimentary luxury suites, which are designed to keep these high rollers – known as “whales” in the industry – content. And therein lies the opportunity for one-to-one marketing: This very small customer base plays about $1 billion a year.

At the Rio, a Harrah’s hotel, chief butler Barbara Hernberg’s goal is to ensure that guests are as comfortable at the hotel as they are at home. At $10,000 a wager, the cost of reminding a guest he or she is not at home is dear indeed.

The nine “Palazzo” luxury suites at the Rio cost $65 million to construct and furnish: At any given moment, only four of them are likely to be occupied.

Preparation starts before a guest arrives: The Rio maintains a filing system that tracks preferences ranging from the meals guests have eaten to the perks they’ve requested. A pre-arrival checklist of preferences – the brands of liquor a guest likes, specific types of movies for the DVD player, or even which channel a TV should be tuned to – can run up to six pages.

Hernberg follows a simple rule when setting up a suite for guests: Anticipate, don’t assume. If a guest has taken her meals extra spicy, for instance, a booking agent will ask if she still would like them prepared that way, rather than automatically entering a request.

But this rule doesn’t take the place of observed behavior. When a guest checks in, a butler might unpack his bags and set up his toiletries. This allows the hotel to note the guest’s preferences and stock the appropriate brands if he is a frequent visitor.

To keep the cost of such comforts under a guest’s margin of loss, most large expenses have to be signed off by the casino host. Once an amenity has been granted, says Hernberg, it’s approved for the entire span of the guest’s relationship with the hotel.

The suites are used in what passes for prospecting to this select market. One Texas gambler, whose level of play falls just below “whale” status, organized a junket of seven high rollers. In appreciation, the Rio gave him one of the luxury suites – and collected the names (and the business) of his associates.

While Hernberg is setting up an intranet throughout all Harrah’s properties that would share whale preferences, Rio president Jay D. Sevigny points out that one element that will not translate is the deal negotiated with each gambler. High rollers often have a percentage of their losses comped back to them by the casino. These deals, he says, are based more on what local competitors offer, and can vary based on which location a gambler plays in.

Even these arrangements are constantly reviewed to increase the likelihood of “beaching” a whale at the casino: On July 31, the Rio introduced a sliding scale of remittances, under which the percentage of the player’s losses the casino forgives increases based on the number of hands played.

Those among us likely never to be invited into these suites should take heart: The rich share at least one trait with the rest of us. A tour of the suites revealed that some of the coins in the courtyard fountain were pennies.