Wilderness, and the Naivety of a Business Decision

I’ve never written a piece like this before. But I’m in the rare position of having a well-read platform that actually means something to the trade.  I’m able to say something that a lot of people are only willing to mutter privately, as most of them can’t afford to say it.  I’m lucky enough that I can.  So here goes.

First, my relationship with Wilderness — because the rest of this only makes sense once you understand it. Those of you in the trade will know them as a juggernaut and need no introduction from me. Those of you who landed here because you were bored and were half-hoping for some dick jokes about a hotel: afraid not, but do stay.

Wilderness were there when we started Dorsia. They helped us, immensely, at the point when help mattered more than anything. They still do. I genuinely don’t think Dorsia would be the company it is today without them. So I’m not writing this without a great deal of considered thought.

The history

Back when a few bombs went flying in the Middle East, the oil price shot up (pun not intended) and we all became experts in virology or shipping lanes or whatever the latest trend now is.  You may have read about it.  Wilderness gave it a few weeks, and then implemented a 2.9% surcharge to all bookings.  And I mean all bookings.  This was not being applied to just their flights, but even their lodges, some of which are 100% solar powered.  Making sense so far?  No, me neither.  Because I’ve managed to build two, successful, multi-million dollar businesses across two completely separate industries, and have never once seen a supplier increase the fees after confirming them.  Because it’s a terrible idea.

So let me just put that again:  Wilderness applied a 2.9% surcharge to bookings; fares we, and everyone else, had already agreed and already quoted.  And as the oil price came down, Wilderness also reduced their rates, right?  Nope.  When I started thinking to write this, oil was around 15% higher than it was before the war.  Now it’s back to where it started.  Still, the Wilderness surcharge flies on.

So the surcharge stands on nothing. And even if it didn’t, I’d still be writing this, because the problem is not the number, it’s what the 2.9% says. It sets a precedent: we can change the rules of the game whenever we like.  That’s the principle being established here, and once it’s established it doesn’t un-establish itself.

And the timing ain’t exactly golden either.  I cannot remember a moment when it has been less competitive to be Wilderness. In the ten years of our partnership — a partnership I’ve genuinely enjoyed, and both parties have benefitted from — look at what they’ve shed. They’ve lost Abu, soon to reopen as a new-build Singita Elela. They’ve lost North Island, first to Marriott and now to independence. They’ve lost Jao, one of the finest properties in Botswana. They’ve lost Xigera. And now Tawana has arrived as serious competition on their doorstep, ironically, by a bunch of ex-Wilderness people. The map has rarely looked harder for them. This is the moment they’ve chosen to tell agents and clients that they don’t care.

Aftermath

In twenty years of running a company, I have never once seen a supplier raise a price after agreeing it. Not in a recession, not in a pandemic, not ever. Did the oil crisis hurt? You bet it did. It hurt every lodge, every operator, every agent, every airline on the continent. It hurt all of us. And out of everyone, Wilderness were the only ones who decided to pass it on.

So let’s think about where that leads.  What does this behaviour train someone to do? It gives me two choices, neither of which Wilderness should want. I can go back to a client who has already accepted a quote and ask them for more money — irritating someone who did nothing wrong. Or I can steer the next enquiry somewhere else. That’s the actual outcome of a 2.9% surcharge: not 2.9% more revenue, but a standing incentive for the people who sell you to sell someone else instead. It’s so short-sighted it’s almost breathtaking.

And just to rub it in, I went to Bisate Reserve and Magashi Peninsula. I went as a paying guest, not on a freebie. I wrote warm, honest reviews. I sent business their way — directly from us, and indirectly from everyone who reads what I wrote and appreciates it (cheers, y’all). The reward for that loyalty is a line item asking me for more.

So, Wilderness, this is your chance to look at it again and think otherwise. There’s still a way out of this. The surcharge can be written off and almost no one will remember it by next season. But make no mistake about what’s on the table if it isn’t: this is long-term damage, done to a relationship that took ten years to build, over a fuel price that has already corrected itself.