Sometimes Breaking the Rules is the Right Thing to Do
And sometimes what we need, more than anything, is a normal evening.
So usually it’s about the money, but not always. I like to help people too, because it feels good and it’s the right thing to do, even when it breaks the rules.
On the same day I argued with a coworker and had a stand-off with a petulant customer who refused to pay for valet parking, an older couple pulled into the port around 7:30 p.m. The driver hopped out of the car and moved quickly to get her luggage out of the trunk.
Her husband stayed in the car. I wondered why. Before she exited the vehicle, when I was talking to her about the parking situation, I could see her husband across the console. Something wasn’t right about him. He had the look of someone who’d lost some of his faculties.
I grabbed a luggage cart and helped the woman load it. Then we moved over to the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Does he need help getting out?” I asked.
“A little,” said the woman.
We went to work. I know they managed his condition alone, but they seemed to need my help. It seemed like a two-person job.
The woman appreciated my help. Physically, her husband was quite limited. She was loving but firm. She didn’t baby him. In fact, I thought she was a tad impatient and even rough, but I didn’t know the situation. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this working retirement, things aren’t always what they seem.
After we got him on his feet, the woman looked at her watch and said, “We have a reservation at Churchill’s at eight.”
Churchill’s Steakhouse is just down the street. It’s a Spokane institution. When I’m at the other property, parking cars on the top floor of the garage, I can smell the steaks cooking on the other side of the alley. It’s torture.
The steakhouse is only a block and a half from the hotel, but it’s on the other side of the railroad viaduct. It’s not a dangerous walk, but it can be unpleasant, depending on the availability of street drugs. But this wasn’t the reason I offered.
“You have time,” I said.
“We can walk down there, can’t we?”
“Yes.”
“But we need to check in first and take everything up to the room.”
“I can help you do that.”
The woman accepted my offer, and I took everything up to their room. Before that, though, when they were just starting to make their way into the hotel, I could feel they weren’t going to make it to the restaurant in time.
“I’ve got your car here,” I said. “Why don’t I just run you down there.”
“You don’t mind?” said the woman.
“Not at all,” I said.
I’m so glad I offered. As I spent more time with the couple, hauling their stuff up to the room and unloading the cart, I could tell that the life they were living wasn’t the life they expected to be living. Because of his condition, everything was more difficult. They were rolling with it, but it had to be frustrating.
I suspected the woman – and both of them, really – just wanted to have a normal evening, dining out, like they used to before whatever condition he had took over their lives. Two hours later, at the end of my shift, my suspicion was confirmed.
I picked them up and helped the man back into their car – this time by myself, as the woman was still inside, taking care of the bill. As we were walking back into the hotel and were about to separate, the woman looked at me while holding on to her husband’s arm.
“Thank you,” she said. “You made this possible.”