Status is a net

Do you miss the toaster?

Not because you ever wanted one.

Because you notice who gets it.

The toaster isn’t for you. It’s for the new guest. The first-timer. The one who hasn’t yet learned how the system works. The toaster sits there like a welcome mat: we’re generous here, we thought of you, stay awhile.

You don’t get the toaster anymore.

You get status.

Status doesn’t come with small comforts. It comes with expectations. It tells the system you already know how to navigate inconvenience. You already understand that things won’t be perfect. You’ll forgive the missing chair, the wrong room, the policy that hardens when it shouldn’t.

The toaster is a lure.

Status is a net.

They call you a Frequent Guest, as if frequency were loyalty and not habit. As if coming back again and again were proof of satisfaction instead of tolerance. The language flatters you while quietly downgrading what you receive.

And then there’s the upgrade.

You’re told you’ve been given something better, but you never see what you would have had. That’s important. The comparison is removed. The narrative replaces the reality.

Is it really an upgrade to be moved from a high floor to a lower one because the bed is larger? Is it an upgrade if the room is noisier, closer to traffic, closer to staff areas, closer to the machinery of the building? Is it better, or just easier for them?

They say “higher category,” and you’re meant to stop asking questions.

Titanium Plus doesn’t mean you’re cherished. It means you’re known. Profiled. Predicted. The system knows you’ll be back. It knows you’ll negotiate with yourself before you negotiate with them. It knows you’ll accept explanations where a new guest would still be deciding whether to return.

The toaster is given to the undecided.

You’re already decided.

And when you complain, something subtle shifts. Not open hostility. Just friction. Points that don’t post. Invoices that don’t arrive. Notes added to your profile that quietly change how future interactions unfold. Flexibility becomes policy. Policy becomes immovable.

You realize then that loyalty programs don’t reward loyalty. They exploit certainty.

The longer you stay, the less they have to try.

You don’t miss the toaster because you want toast.

You notice it because it reveals the truth.

The system is generous only where it needs to be persuasive. Once persuasion is no longer required, the kindness becomes optional.

And seeing that doesn’t make you angry.

It makes you clear.

Clear about where you are welcome, and where you’re merely expected to return.

Clear about the difference between being valued and being captured.

Clear enough to stop mistaking habit for hospitality.

Clear enough to stop wondering why the toaster never shows up for you anymore.

Because now you know exactly why.

WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.