It was several years ago. I had been hired as the school superintendent in Marlow, OK. It was an incredible opportunity in an amazing school system. There was only one, little, almost inconsequential problem. We couldn’t find a house to live in.

We looked for a couple of weeks to no avail. Then one day, our real estate agent called with the news of a new house that was being built south of town. I decided that we couldn’t afford it. Gayla said we could. We bought the house.

There was just a teeny, tiny issue. I was supposed to start work on July 1. The house was not scheduled to be completed until August. So, we would be without a house for several weeks.

Our solution was simple. Gayla and our boys would move in with her parents. I would drive to Marlow on Monday morning, stay Monday night through Thursday night in a motel and drive to my in-laws on Friday evening. Yes, Marlow had a motel. Actually, there were two motels
in town.

I spent a couple of weeks in one of those motels. Then, being the generous community minded person that I am, I decided I should send a little of my business to the other motel in town.

I drove into town early that Monday morning. Worked hard all day and then drove to the motel that I had not yet stayed in.

I pulled in and walked into the office. An older lady who was none too spry made her way slowly out of the chair, hovered for a bit and walked to the counter. I asked if they had any vacancies because it seemed like the thing to do. She looked me over. I guess they had some minimum standards for customers. She obviously didn’t know I was the new school superintendent (or maybe she did).

She asked, “Cash or credit?” I handed her my credit card and told her I would be there for four nights. She put one of those big metal slider things on the counter, placed my card, and a form with carbon paper in it. She ratcheted that big metal slider thing to make an imprint of my card. She gave me a key that had a plastic thing about the size of a small boat oar on it, told me the room number, and then slowly, ever so slowly, sat down after hovering over the chair for several seconds.

I pulled my vehicle up to the door of the room I was assigned to. I walked to the door. Unlocked it and let it swing open to reveal a motel room that was probably built in the 1930’s or early 1940’s. No, I am not that old. It was like something out of a horror movie. I was hoping that the woman who waited on me didn’t have a son who had a big, butcher knife.

I was in a bit of a shock. This was obviously not a non-smoking room. In fact, I’m a bit surprised the lady at the front desk didn’t give me a pack of non-filtered Camels to be used in the room.

The room was dark and a bit dank. I was sure there were bed bugs. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see a bed bug riding a cockroach around the room. If Gayla and the boys were with me, I probably couldn’t have stayed in this room. But it was just me. And surely to goodness, I could stay in this room for this one week.
I unloaded all of my stuff. That’s when it happened.

I called back to the front desk. The same lady who had helped me get checked in answered the phone. I asked her if it would be possible to get a wake up call the next morning.

She said, “Well that depends.”

I asked, “OK. What does that depend on?

She said, “What time do you want to get up?”

I asked, “How about 6:00 in the morning”?

She said, “How about you come back over here. I’ll give you an alarm clock and you can get yourself up.”

It was hard to argue with that.

For whatever reason, I periodically think about this story. I am reminded that we have come a ways when it comes to customer service. We have come even further when it comes to technology (like using our cell phones as an alarm clock). But more than that I am reminded that we ought not think too highly of ourselves. There are a multitude of ways to be brought back to reality.