Key Takeaways
- “Fuck Airbnb,” I said to myself as I read one of their customer service replies. Despite having documentation that my host hadn’t paid the refund they
- It was the moment I decided to finally quit Airbnb.
- Back in 2019, I wrote an article called “Is It Time to Break Up with Airbnb?” I cited numerous safety, service, and overtourism issues with the compan
“Fuck Airbnb,” I said to myself as I read one of their customer service replies. Despite having documentation that my host hadn’t paid the refund they agreed to give me, Airbnb decided to side with the host and wouldn’t issue me the refund. This was the second time in several months I had to call customer service — and the second time they sided with the host.
It was the moment I decided to finally quit Airbnb.
Let me explain the journey to this decision.
Back in 2019, Route for Less published an article titled “Is It Time to Break Up with Airbnb?” We cited numerous safety, service, and overtourism issues with the company. That article somehow made its way to Airbnb’s CEO, Brian Chesky, who reached out to talk to us. We scheduled a call and, to his credit, he listened when we unloaded on Airbnb and went into all the things we thought were wrong with it. He acknowledged that the company wasn’t perfect and gave us some insights into what Airbnb was doing to fix their issues.
When we started traveling last summer, we decided to use Airbnb again. We still thought it had a ton of unresolved problems but, in places where hotels are limited, it is often the best and cheapest accommodation option. (Despite our issues with the company itself, they do list some really great accommodation on the website.)
While we were in the Finger Lakes area (a wine region in upstate NY that is just absolutely wonderful), we woke up to an email from Airbnb saying our friend and we had to leave our lodging right away and that our account was now frozen. We had no idea what was going on. The host was equally confused by the situation but was happy to let us stay until we resolved it.
“I’ll figure this out later,” we said and went off to a wine tasting. Someone at Airbnb called us and asked if we had left yet. “No, not until you give me the reason,” we replied.
We weren’t moving until Airbnb told us what was wrong, since both the host and we were happy. But Airbnb wouldn’t tell us until we left (standard procedure, they said). We were at an impasse.
So we deployed the only solution we could think of: we texted the CEO for help.
It turned out that because our phone number was on two accounts, during an automatic review, their system froze them both, thinking this was part of some kind of fraud. And that triggered the email, which, when unanswered, triggered the phone call. Why couldn’t they just tell us that on the phone? It seemed weird their procedure was not to ask “Hey can you clear this up for us” but to say “Your account is frozen. Leave now!”
Our account was restored, but we were left thinking, “What if this had happened to someone who didn’t have the CEO’s number?” Imagine a family on holiday being told they had to leave but not why. (Heck, one of our team members had her account suspended a few years ago and was never informed why. They won’t give her the account back. She just woke up one day and was told, “Sorry, you’re off our platform.”)
It left a really bad taste in our mouth.
Fast-forward to September. We’re in LA and we found a unicorn: an Airbnb run by a person whose actual home it was, not just an apartment bought to be run as a pseudo hotel (See: overtourism). We get to the place and meet the host. The apartment was just OK: it was cluttered, the blinds in our room were broken (and never fixed, despite a promise to do so), and the room had no AC or heat.
But, whatever, it was a place to sleep.
On the second night, at 11:30pm, we were trying to sleep when the host’s conversation outside turned to a yelling match. She and the guy she had over were fighting. This went on for over 30 minutes until we decided to pack our bags and leave for a hotel down the road. The guy was double our size, and we weren’t going to tell some strangers to kindly shut up so we could sleep. That could go south really quick, and we weren’t risking our safety over that.
We emailed Airbnb, explained what happened, and asked for a refund for our remaining nights. They got back to us, said the host denied our story, and that we should have spoken to her first. We’re sorry, forgive us for not telling the big scary dude we were trying to sleep and to keep it down.
We were told that we should have made our problems known in the first 24 hours in order to be eligible for relief. Airbnb has a 24-hour rule where, if there’s a problem, you can still leave with a refund. However, after 24 hours, you can’t. This is a mighty stupid rule. What if something happens outside that window, especially if you’re staying a long time? Are you just screwed? (Narrator: Yes, you are.)
Now, it seems ridiculous that the rep couldn’t just look at this situation and say, “OK, it’s only two hundred bucks, here ya go!” since this isn’t a problem one could foresee in the first 24 hours. But they didn’t. And what annoyed us even more about the interaction were the emails they sent! Look at these actual emails from customer service:
We’re sorry, but you’re a $100 billion company and you can’t hire staff that writes emails that can be understood? It boggles our mind.
Eventually, this got resolved because, you guessed it, we texted Brian.
Finally, last month, we rented an Airbnb in Austin. Not only wasn’t it clean but everything was covered in pet hair. The host hadn’t mentioned they had a pet in their listing; had they, we wouldn’t have stayed. Between those two issues, we decided to leave. So, after some texting, the host and we agreed to a 20% refund.
Except she never paid. We waited a few days to see if the money hit our credit card. When it didn’t we messaged her again and she just ghosted us.
So we contacted Airbnb, showed them our conversation, and asked for help. They said they couldn’t help us because not only were we out
