Several months prior to our 2021 stay, my brother-in-law informed me he had a scheduling conflict, and because he is a preacher and my mother specified that she wanted him to officiate at her burial, I informed my host that we had to postpone until summer of 2022. She said she had no problem as long as dates were available (and they were).

Using Airbnb’s website, I attempted to make the date change, fully expecting to pay an additional amount representing the difference between the 2021 and the higher 2022 rates. Once I started the process of making the change, the website informed me that the stated rates were only good for a short specified period of time, and if I didn’t complete the transaction within that time, the rates would go up. The problem was I could not complete the change-of-date transaction without first paying full price for the new 2022 reservation — the website was not giving me the option of applying the funds from the fully paid-for 2021 reservation.

I sent the host a message asking for guidance, and while she had always gotten right back to me prior to this moment, for some reason, I did not hear back from her prior to the transaction deadline. I went ahead and charged the full 2022 reservation on my credit card, assuming that of course, the already paid full 2021 reservation amount would be refunded to me. I wasn’t trying to rip anyone off, but at this point, I had now paid the full amount twice for a weekend stay at the farmhouse. I thought surely I’ll be refunded the funds for the cancelled 2021 stay. I mean, I was using Airbnb’s website and the host didn’t respond to my request for guidance.

I contacted Airbnb’s customer service department who told me the host had to agree to me receiving a full refund of the cancelled 2021 reservation. I contacted the host who agreed to the full refund, and I informed Airbnb’s customer service of the host’s agreement. The customer service representative explained how my full refund would consist of two amounts: the amount paid for the original 2020 reservation ($1,980.87) and the additional several hundred dollars I paid for the 2021 reservation, representing the increase in rates between 2020 and 2021. The customer service representative repeatedly used the term ‘full refund,’ which frankly were the only two words I was listening for.

Within minutes, I received a full refund on my credit card for the smaller, several hundred dollar ‘increase in rates’ amount. As the minutes ticked by and the bigger $1,980.87 amount never showed up on my credit card account, I started to get worried. When I called Airbnb customer service back, I was informed the ‘full refund’ of $1,980.87 was actually a credit for future use. I told them I’d like to take that ‘credit for future use’ and apply it to the 2022 reservation. I was told that couldn’t be done. So my promised ‘full refund’ morphed into a ‘credit for future use’ — a future use of their choosing.

Airbnb customer service did suggest a possible resolution: I could cancel the 2022 reservation and make a new reservation and apply the ‘credit for future use’ funds toward that. I pointed out that their suggestion would certainly resolve the ‘credit for future use’ funds left over from the 2021 reservation, but now I’d be stuck with a new ‘credit for future use’ from the cancelled 2022 reservation. They suggested I work it out with the host. I called the host, and explained to her what had transpired. She seemed to be sympathetic, but she asked me to have Airbnb customer service call her and walk her through the process of fixing the situation because she didn’t want to make any mistakes, which I could understand after trying to use the badly coded ‘change of reservation date’ section of the Airbnb website.

When I contacted Airbnb customer service again, I pointed out that this all could be resolved within seconds, but the customer service representative insisted it couldn’t be done. The next time I called Airbnb customer service, I got a garbled recording stating that the number I was calling had been disconnected or was no longer in service. I figured I must have made a mistake punching the numbers when I made the call, so I called again, and again got the garbled recording.

Once I picked my jaw off the floor and pondered the thought of a customer service department of a major American corporation having a disconnected number and no apparent new or forwarding number, I was at a loss; it just didn’t make any sense. Then, a truly ridiculous thought entered my head: they didn’t block me, did they? To shoot down that ridiculous notion right away, I decided to call Airbnb customer service using my landline phone and not my cell phone (the number on my Airbnb account). Bingo: no garbled disconnection message when I called using my landline.

I got into customer service — that is, if you call answering a few questions put to me by a machine and being ultimately referred to an online FAQ page as ‘customer service.’ That is pathetic: I was blocked by Airbnb customer service.

Now I know what you’re thinking: I’m a hothead and I was speed dialing into Airbnb customer service 24/7, hurtling expletives at meek and mild customer service reps. Not quite. I called Airbnb customer service maybe four times total. I was always civil, and most of the time I was simply requesting information. The most confrontational (if you can call it that) was when I was told by the customer service representative “It can’t be done” in reference to the promised full refund. I very politely pointed out that actually it could be done — it was promised. A partial refund was accomplished within seconds after the first time I called in, and a full refund of the remaining funds could be done within seconds.

So as it stands now, I supposedly have a ‘credit for future use’ for $1,980.87, even though there is nothing in my account that indicates that. I guess I’d have to contact Airbnb customer service in order to access that credit, except they blocked me. I didn’t go to business school, but I can’t imagine there’s a business school out there that teaches business people that it is better to lie to and cheat a customer — a customer who is using your services so that he can bury his mother’s ashes and turn the customer into a lifetime enemy of your company than to put in perhaps twenty seconds worth of effort to push a button to issue a refund check. Whenever I hear someone utter the word ‘Airbnb,’ believe me, I let them know of my experience with them.

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My wife and I were not banned from just any old app. We were banned from a very popular app that is looked at as a darling of the sharing economy. One that since it was founded has changed the way we travel and experience a city or place. An app we were considering to be the foundation of our upcoming trip around the world. Of course I’m talking about Airbnb. We had recently sold our house and 70–80% of our possessions and said farewell to Minneapolis and its beautiful winters, where we had lived for 14 years. The idea was that we would travel slowly around the globe, staying for extended periods in different countries so we could learn about culture and food and customs and really become ingrained in neighborhoods previously inaccessible to casual travelers. And we would do this by using Airbnb. We already had a history of using the site. A great one in fact.

Before getting exiled, we had successfully logged 13 stays in 5 countries and received very favorable reviews from all the homeowners we encountered. One in Seattle was even amazed that we took the time to set her clocks to daylight savings time. We are those people. The words used by these homeowners to describe us as guests ranged from “amazing” and “polite” to “extremely polite and educated, really quiet, and great to talk to.” In Louisville after a conversation with the owner, he described our interaction as “one of the best conversations… that I have ever had in the Pearl.”

We are polite and quiet. We are what they say. We like to leave things in a better place than we found them. We are conscientious to a fault. We even stack plates when we dine at a restaurant to make it easier for the staff to clear. It’s almost a sickness. It may seem like I’m living that song from Flight of the Conchords about the prettiest girl on the street, depending on the street.

While the review system on Airbnb is flawed like any review system online, we began to believe that we wouldn’t have a negative interaction with a homeowner — we were homeowners ourselves, after all. So it came as a surprise when received notice that the owner of the property we just visited was charging us $1,000 in damages for forcibly entering the house, and by doing so destroying his lock and door. What really happened is that we couldn’t get into the house using the key provided as somebody had thrown deadbolt from the inside and our key only worked on the bottom lock.

I sent a few texts to the people in the house and shouted through some open windows and rang the doorbell before we were let in by one of the housemates. He assessed the situation and determined what we already knew — the key doesn’t work for the deadbolt. It was decided we would not use the door again. We retired to our room and in the morning checked out as planned and left through the front door. We became homeowners for the first time when we were 22 and 24 respectively, and have bought, remodeled and sold two more homes since then. We know how personal a home is, and we know how to care for one. That’s why we are so careful when we are invited as guests into another person’s home. It’s as close to a sacred space as we can imagine.

The homeowner in his opening statement said that he was willing to negotiate and would settle for a couple hundred bucks, which is way more than a broken deadbolt is worth. He was clearly just looking for money, and knew how to work Airbnb. Sadly we were not so experienced, but were about to get a crash course on how they arbitrate between two parties. I’ll save you some time: they hold up their hands, shrug, and say “you guys work it out.”

The owner submitted more of his investigations into the situation. He claimed to have reviewed messages between me and other housemates and interviewed the other guest staying there who said we were “paranoid” and disobeyed the house rules. He also claimed to review the “home security surveillance system”, but this failed to reveal anything. Nobody else was able to see these tapes, and given the state of the house, it’s doubtful they even existed. If they did, they would have revealed no more than me retreating a foot into the air when almost stepping on half a mouse near the garage. I’m sure it would make a lovely GIF.

Airbnb customer service was reviewing our case and had told us that if we didn’t reach some sort of consensus with the owner, we were risking having our account put on hold. Since we were on our way to our next stop on our road trip, this was alarming and we asked for more details. Once Airbnb found out that we were not going to negotiate and pay any of the fees, I received a notification that our booking for the very next night was cancelled and our money had been refunded. I couldn’t log into my account. We were formally exiled from Airbnb. We moved through the next few days in a ragged haze while making other plans for our immediate roadtrip needs while thinking about the next 10 months of our trip.

Does this mean we are relegated to using hotels again? That likely means no kitchen and eating every meal out. This means no laundry. This means we will have to stay in urban centers within easy reach of restaurants. This means our budget is shot. This means a big hole in the budget. Could we travel for so long when paying exponentially more per night for food and lodging?

Fast forward 8 months. We are Japan for a month before heading to Beijing and London. We’ve visited 13 countries since being exiled from Airbnb. We’ve stayed on olive farms in the hills of Croatia and apartments in the middle of urban centers found on sites with policies that actually consider the renter as an important part of their business foundation. We don’t consider ourselves exiles anymore, because let’s be honest, we would never go back to Airbnb.

Writing this won’t change the homeowner centric policy of Airbnb, and it won’t change their lousy customer service. The temptation is still there. We still get their emails despite trying to opt out numerous times. I’ve deleted the app from my phone, but am reminded of our exile every time there is an article about their greatness, or a friend posts pictures of their amazing kitchen in Oaxaca. It’s enough to make us consider trying to get back in, but only briefly. Because let’s be honest. The interface is great. Their stock is enormous. It would be easy. But their “guilty until proven innocent” stance on a platform that doesn’t allow you to properly defend yourself against unfounded and slanderous charges keeps us from trying too hard.

The post On Being Exiled from Airbnb, and What Follows appeared first on Airbnb Hell.