No app could’ve found that grave. No AI could’ve known where to start. But a human concierge could.
In today’s hospitality world — where guests track drivers in real time, book rooms with voice commands, and get dining tips from algorithms — it’s easy to assume the role of the hotel concierge is fading.
That assumption fades the moment you meet Sharezal Abdul Wahid, Director of Concierge at The Majestic Hotel Kuala Lumpur, Assistant General Secretary of Les Clefs d’Or International, and one of only 22 Malaysians entrusted with the golden crossed keys of Les Clefs d’Or.
“I make my guests smile,” he says simply. “That’s what I do every day.”
Behind that simplicity lies a deep well of experience, empathy, and intuition — the kind of qualities no machine can replicate. Over two decades of service have taught Sharezal one thing: while tools evolve, the human instinct to serve — to truly understand a guest — remains timeless.
“We are not just part of the hotel. We are part of the city. The guests don’t just come to us for directions. The guests come to them for clarity, comfort — and sometimes, closure.
A Guest’s Request That Went Beyond the Map
There are moments in a concierge’s career that quietly define them — not because they make headlines, but because they make a difference.
One such moment for Sharezal came from an elderly guest who had returned to Malaysia after five decades — likely since wartime. He wasn’t there for sightseeing in the conventional sense. He wanted to revisit places from his past.
But Kuala Lumpur had changed.
“He’d give me street names that no longer appeared on modern maps — Foch Avenue (now Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock) and Treacher Street (now Jalan Hang Tuah),” Sharezal said.
The Majestic team did what they could. They pieced together a personal itinerary — from Kuala Lumpur to Ipoh to Penang — places the guest associated with people, not landmarks. The itinerary wasn’t built from listings or apps. It came from memory, maps, instinct, and a willingness to try.
On his final day, the guest mentioned something he hadn’t yet done.
“He said, ‘There’s one thing I wish I could do. But I don’t think it’s possible.’”
He wanted to visit the grave of a friend — someone who had died during the war. No address. No GPS location. Just a name and a battalion number.
“I told him — give me the details, and let me try.”
Sharezal spent the next few hours making calls — to cemeteries, archives, and anyone who might hold the records. With just one hour to spare before the guest’s departure, he knocked on the guest’s door.
“I told him — do you mind leaving earlier? Because I’ve found the address.”
A car was arranged. The guest left.
A week later, the email came. A photo. A grave. A short line:
“Thank you. I found him.”
No machine could’ve delivered that.