It was 1997, the day before my birthday, and I was checking into a Holiday Inn about eight hours from home.
I had just finished a successful business presentation, and the client asked if I could stay another day for additional discussions. The additional day happened to be my birthday. Of course I said yes — I really wanted to nail down the agreement, and an extra day with the client was exactly the opportunity I needed. Still, I wasn’t particularly happy about spending my birthday away from my family.
I hadn’t planned to stay another night, so I walked into the hotel without a reservation. The people working at the front desk were friendly and began looking for an available room. Somehow, my birthday came up. I jokingly told them that since I was being forced to spend my birthday away from my family, they ought to put me in a suite. We all laughed. They told me they’d do the best they could.
No, I didn’t get the penthouse suite. But they found me a nice room. I checked in, unpacked, and settled in for the evening.
Then there was a knock at the door.
A birthday cake
When I opened the door, two members of the front desk staff were standing there holding a small birthday cake. Candles. A hastily written “Happy Birthday.”
These people had heard a guest joking about being away from his family on his birthday and decided to do something about it. They had gone to the kitchen and, with the help of the late-night kitchen staff, put together a birthday cake for someone they had met only a short time earlier.
I don’t remember what kind of cake it was. I don’t remember what room number I was in. I don’t remember what I ordered for dinner that night. But almost thirty years later, I remember those people standing outside my hotel room. In fact, as I write this, I can still picture the layout of that front desk and check-in area.
That’s remarkable when you think about it.
It wasn’t the nicest hotel
I’ve been privileged to stay in some very nice hotels over the years — hotels considerably nicer than that Holiday Inn. I couldn’t begin to describe most of their front desks to you today. But I remember this one.
The client relationship required me to return to the area, and I ended up spending several weeks at that hotel off and on. It became my hotel. Not because it had the finest rooms. Not because it had the most impressive lobby. Not because someone upgraded me to the penthouse.
Because some people behind a front desk made a tired business traveler feel like he mattered.
I wanted someone to know
The hotel had one of those guest surveys asking some version of a simple question: how did we treat you?
I decided to tell them. I wrote a heartfelt account of what those employees had done for me, because I wanted someone in the organization to know that these people had gone well beyond anything their jobs required. Then I sent it in and went on with my life.
Apparently someone was listening. The story made its way to the regional office and the employees were recognized for exceptional customer service. I didn’t know that immediately. I found out a month or so later when business brought me back to the hotel. I was standing at that same front desk and mentioned the birthday cake, and the staff knew exactly what I was talking about.
Then someone pointed to a plaque on the wall. Holiday Inn had formally recognized the two employees who had brought the cake to my room.
I loved that.
Small things can travel a long way
Those employees probably had no idea where their spontaneous act of kindness would lead. They weren’t trying to win an award. They didn’t know I would write about them. They certainly couldn’t have known that nearly thirty years later I’d still be telling the story.
They simply noticed someone, and they did something kind. Then something else happened: I noticed them. I took a few minutes to tell someone what they had done. And someone in their organization noticed too.
There’s a lesson in both halves of that story. When someone does something exceptional, say something. Tell their manager. Write the note. Complete the survey. Send the email. Give them credit when they’re not in the room.
We are often quick to report disappointment and surprisingly slow to report excellence.
Recognition doesn’t have to be elaborate. Sometimes it simply needs to make its way back to the person who earned it.
People remember how you treated them
Businesses spend enormous amounts of money trying to create memorable customer experiences. Some of that investment is worthwhile. But I’m not sure memorable experiences can always be engineered. Sometimes they’re simply human.
Someone pays attention. Someone cares. Someone does a little more than the job requires. Someone recognizes that the person standing on the other side of the counter isn’t merely the next transaction. They’re a person.
I don’t remember the names of those two employees today. I wish I did. But I remember what they did. I remember that cake. And I remember coming back weeks later and seeing that plaque hanging on the wall.
They made a stranger feel remembered on a birthday away from home. I made sure someone knew about it. And their company made sure they knew it mattered. Almost thirty years later, it still matters to me.
We don’t always get to know which moments people will remember us for. That’s probably a good reason to make the small ones count. And when someone creates one of those moments for us, it’s probably a good reason to say thank you where someone else can hear it.