Good lord man, of course upgrade me.

I respond to the word upgrade the way others respond to 'fire' or 'free'. The moment someone utters that glorious word, I’ve already said yes.

Doesn’t matter what it is. Could be legroom, linens, lobster, luggage tags. If it’s shinier, fancier, or described using words like “limited” or “expensive”, I want it.

My business partner says I’d probably pay extra just to be told I’d been upgraded, even if absolutely nothing changed. And she’s quite possibly right.

But do you know what confounds me? If upgrades are so delightful, if they make people irrationally happy, why are so many staff terrified to offer them?

Restaurant waiters are the worst offenders. You sit down, menus handed over like files from the Vatican Secret Archives, and the waiter murmurs, barely above a whisper, “Would you like something to drink?”

Would I like a drink? Does a bear… well, you know the rest.

Old chap, I’m in a place where the butter has been churned by blind nuns and sprinkled with Himalayan pink salt harvested by dive-bombing Himalayan monals.

I’m practically begging for an overpriced cocktail made with something ridiculous. Leftover lemon pips or a tincture of burnt rosemary, probably. But you’ve made it sound like a chore.

Now imagine if, instead, they leaned in and said,
“Our cocktail today is a smoked passionfruit margarita with chilli salt. It’s divine. Shall I bring you one?”

Good lord man, of course bring me one.

Suddenly it’s not a decision. It’s an experience. A narrative. A foregone, delightful conclusion.

It’s the difference between offering a product and offering a story.

Between “Would you like to upgrade?” and “I have a corner suite with hot and cold running butlers, shall I switch you over?” No, I'd rather stay in the staff dormitory, of course switch me over you lunatic.

People say they hate being sold to. They don’t. They hate being badly sold to.

A good upsell isn’t pushy. It’s seductive. It assumes enthusiasm. And if you describe it properly, I won’t just say yes. I’ll say, “Make it two.”

Because an upgrade isn’t really about utility. It’s about enhancing the experience. About feeling clever, chosen, and part of a smug little community of fabulous people.

Which is why I consider it a triumph of self-control when I forgo the Louis XIII and order the '39 Delord instead, like some sort of celibate monk with a vow of poverty. Piety and virtue personifed I am.

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PS. I suppose I should say something amusing to upsell Luxury Academy training in this CTA shouldn't I 🙄 .