I have stayed at The Ritz Carlton, Washington, D.C. several times over the past five years, but after this most recent stay, I will probably expand my search for very nice accommodations near the Capital.
This visit had a long list of small but constant problems that, taken together, were pretty annoying—especially given the price point and the expectations attached to this brand.
To start with the basics: there was never a step stool available, which meant my children could not reach the sink on their own. That may sound trivial, but when you are traveling with kids, it immediately turns every routine—brushing teeth, washing hands—into a repeated logistical problem that a family-friendly luxury hotel should already have solved.
The bathroom itself had clear maintenance issues. There was black, slimy mildew in the shower caulk, which is not something I expect to see in any hotel, much less one charging luxury rates. The toilet paper holder was broken, and every time you tried to tear off a piece, the metal holder would swing and hit the floor with a loud clank.
Both the shower and the bathtub lacked any kind of handheld sprayer. This makes bathing children quite difficult—especially when they can’t quite take showers by themselves and still need help washing their hair. Even trying to step into the shower with a child would not have been realistic, because the shower stall was very small. A larger adult would struggle to fit comfortably on their own, let alone two people, regardless of how small one of them is.
The room was also extremely dry. Static electricity that shocks and makes you afraid to touch anything dry. When I asked, housekeeping offered a tiny humidifier that wouldn’t have put a dent in the problem, but then did not even refill it during service.
There was no ice machine available on the floor or that guests could access themselves. You have to call and wait for ice to be delivered. When I asked the staff to please leave it outside the door and not ring or knock—because my children were sleeping—they did anyway. I also don’t appreciate that the Ritz deems me incapable of getting my own ice if I so desire. I’m a perfectly capable adult who would like not to have to wait 15 minutes for ice to arrive to drink my Diet Coke.
I asked staff to empty the minibar—specifically to remove all drinks and snacks—so that we would have room for our own drinks and snacks, but they never got around to doing it.
The electrical setup in the room was woefully inadequate. There was only one electrical outlet in the entire bathroom and only one outlet near the table in a two-bedroom suite. Other outlets were too far away from the bed to charge a phone at night and there weren’t nearly enough overall for a family staying multiple nights.
Individually, these might sound like minor inconveniences, but they added up quickly and became constant friction points throughout the stay. This matters when a four-night stay was nearly $4,000—and that was for the room alone, with no room service, no spa, and no additional services.
One additional note about the service culture itself: there is a meaningful difference between genuinely good service and a highly scripted, hyper-deferential style of hospitality that treats guests as if they are fragile, incapable of managing basic needs, or deserving of constant ceremonial attention. At a certain point, that kind of performative politeness stops feeling attentive and starts feeling intrusive.
In practice, that culture shows up as a constant stream of over-talking and rehearsed check-ins. The staff wastes a surprising amount of your time with repeated lines like, “If there is anything we can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask,” “How are you today, ma’am?” and “Is there anything we can do to improve or enhance your stay?” It is exhausting. Obviously, I know how to ask for something if I need it—this is not the DMV. All of this unnecessary, scripted babble interrupts you repeatedly and wastes precious time I would much rather spend literally any other way. Of course, I want the ladies and gentlemen of the hotel to be polite and helpful. But I do not want staff speaking to me—or to my children—as if we deserve constant praise for doing absolutely nothing. For all anyone knows, I could be a terrible person. It would be far better if the staff simply behaved like normal, friendly, competent people and treated guests the same way.
Overall, this stay felt like a mismatch between price, branding, and lived reality. The physical issues—mildew, broken fixtures, poor bathroom design for families, extreme dryness, inadequate outlets, and basic usability failures like the minibar and ice access—combined with a service culture that is overly scripted and inefficient, created constant, unnecessary friction. Given the high price tag, one expects quiet competence, well-maintained rooms, and practical, thoughtful design. Instead, I left feeling that the hotel is far more focused on performing luxury than delivering it.
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