We travel writers are on the road (or in the air) for a giant chunk of the year, so you’d think we’d be immune to making stupid travel errors. Actually, a lot of the time we’re so busy filing copy or juggling six trips at once that we make some pretty dumb decisions.

That was the case last month when I paid for an online upgrade on Qatar Airways on a flight between Sydney and Reykjavik. About three days before I left a pop-up appeared on my phone via the Qatar app, offering to upgrade me from Economy to Business. At first glance – and stupidly, first glance was all I gave it – it looked like a great deal. They were asking around $800 for the entire leg. Without looking into things further I went ahead and paid.

It was only when I checked in at Sydney airport on the day of my flight that I learned that in fact the upgrade only covered the second part of the three-part journey, between Doha and Oslo. And it was only when I reached Doha did I learn that there was no included lounge access. Suddenly my $800 deal felt like an agonising rip-off. All things I would have realised if I’d only taken a little more time to sleuth out what was being offered. 

Wavering over whether or not to take that upgrade? Here are my best tips for making smart-kid decisions.

1. Check the fine print

This is achingly obvious and a fairly solid blueprint for life if we’re laying it all on the line. Don’t pay until you’re really sure what you’re paying for. Those phone-based pop-ups can be particularly treacherous: they’re too easy to click and discourage scrutiny. Be particularly mindful of how much of your journey your upgrade includes and whether or not it gives you lounge access (note to self: online upgrades almost always don’t).

2. Do a cost-per-hour analysis

Upgrade bandits all over the internet recommend that the best way to gauge whether or not a cash upgrade is a good idea is to set yourself a ‘per hour’ cost limit. A recent Reddit thread debated this topic, with users saying that a Business or First international upgrade is worth anywhere between $75 and $150 per flying hour (which is what made my $800 upgrade across what I thought was a 22-hour flight look like such a top deal on face value). Domestic upgrades are nominally costed at far less and are only really worth it if you are flush with cash. Pick your limit and use it as a guide whenever that tantalising upgrade offer drops into your world.

3. Add a loading for other perks

The per hour cost analysis works well but there are other factors that may also come into play: are you tall and therefore value extra legroom more than most? Do you have an important event at the end of your trip that would be better navigated with a flatbed snooze in the lead-up? Add on a little extra allowance for those life soothers that make things a little bit sweeter.

4. Check your airline’s emails

Okay, this is less about upgrades and more about claiming all the extra perks that will help you get better upgrades when they’re on offer. Every so often airlines will offer frequent flyers juicy little sweeteners such as extra status points or other loyalty bonuses. More of those means you’re more likely to be offered bigger and better upgrades. I recently missed out on advancing from Qantas Silver to Gold tier because I didn’t see an email offering to sling me 35 extra status points in August. They send so many frustrating emails about wine offers or hotel deals that it slipped past my radar. Again, do as I say not as I do and keep an eye on those valuable offers.

5. Points-only upgrade? Press play right away

In terms of getting the most out of your airline points, nothing beats the value of an upgrade. No, not the wine cases or the hotel bookings or anything else. Unless you’re saving them all to pay, outright, for a major flight just hurl whatever points you’ve accumulated at upgrades. They’re not there to be cherished forever.

6. Be a billionaire

If you have cash to burn why are you even reading this? Just buy yourself First Class from the outset, Daddy Warbucks, and leave the rest of us to our desperate scrap-scrambling. Gah.