“Welcome to our hotel,” the desk clerk said.
I’ve heard those words thousands of times over the years. Most of the time, they’re spoken by a smiling employee who wants my first encounter with the hotel to be positive.
“We have your payment information on file . . . breakfast starts at 6:00 . . . would you like a wake-up call?” It’s a routine conversation, but pleasant. Like the safety instruction given by a flight attendant, it’s easy to glaze over the content. In some form, I’ve heard it all before.
Until this time.
“We do have one little problem, sir.”
“What’s that?” I asked, surprised by the change in the usual script.
“The key readers aren’t working. It’ll take a couple of days to get them fixed.”
That didn’t sound good. “So, what are you saying?”
“You can’t get in your room,” he replied.
I’m looking around for the hidden cameras, wondering which candid show I’d be appearing on.
“I’m really sorry,” he continued. “But every time you want to go into your room, just come to the front desk. We’ll walk down there with you and open the door.”
He asked someone to cover for him at the desk, then stepped out to accompany me through the corridors. My room was at the far end of the hotel, so my new companion and I talked along the way.
“Have you had many angry guests because of this?” I asked.
“Not angry, but a little frustrated. They know stuff just happens, but it makes it really inconvenient for them.”
I continued. “Don’t you get tired of walking with people over and over again?”
“Nope,” he said. “But it has surprised me.”
“How so?”
“I always thought I was interacting with a lot of people every day. But really, I was just having the same little conversation over and over with different people. Now, I have time to actually get to know them a little. They’re like . . . well, real people.”
I chuckled to myself, thinking about how often “good customer service” might be focusing on the wrong thing – appearing to care instead of simply caring.
He went on. “With just that short conversation, it’s like we’ve connected. We know each other, just a little.”
“It’s changing the way I look at my job,” he said. “I’m supposed to make people feel welcome, but it’s not real. I’m just smiling and saying the right words. But when I have a real conversation that goes beyond that greeting, they actually feel welcome.”
“They become real people.”
That was last week, and I’ve thought about it a lot in the past few days. I wonder how many people I encounter that I have quick, casual conversations with that are cordial . . . but we’re just going through the motions of caring.
Sure, we can’t have long, deep encounters with everyone who crosses our path. But what if we saw each person we encounter as a “real” person?
That doesn’t mean the conversation has to be any longer. It just means that I’ll see a desk clerk, a grocery cashier or the person behind me in line as human.
If I do that, I won’t try to force conversation, or even avoid it.
I’ll just see them as a unique person, going through unique stuff on their unique journey.
I’ll see them through different lenses.
When I see them as “real,” the words aren’t as important. I just have to care.
It shifts the momentary focus from “all about me” to “all about them.”
Try it today. Just take the time to notice as you encounter people. Ask yourself, “I wonder what their story is?”
See them as real people. That’s where caring starts.
Who knows where it might lead?
(Let us know how it goes in the comments below)