I arrive with Tweet at a wonderful south Asian bed and breakfast that we’ve found online. This trip is our R&R from our home away from home, and it’s a belated birthday gift. We’re the only guests at the small resort on this rainy afternoon.
The hotel manager comes out and as we begin our tour, and immediately tells us about a wedding party, “You know, a local wedding party considered moving in here for the weekend . . . “ The B&B manager pauses (and my face falls), “But I explained to the local family how we had already booked a nice couple in the nicest room at our B&B and that you had requested peace and quiet.”
I process this information internally. “Wow we’re so lucky that he read between the lines of my email inquiry to find a peaceful place,” I think.
Tweet, as always, patiently listens to the manager explain what he did to prevent the other party from booking, and then offers, “Well thank you but you know there is no need to prevent other guests. We like to meet new people. If you want to invite them back, please feel free. Don’t hold them back on our account.”
I think to myself, “Tweet, no! I do want peace and quiet and I don’t want to share this great view.”
The next day a local couple shows up. They look quickly at a room and then leave. We have the B&B to ourselves for the entire five days.
On the day we checkout, we have some overlap with a newly-arrived couple, who look not too unlike ourselves – young professionals who haven’t been outside to much. Out comes the manager speaking in a tone of voice I’d heard before, “You know, a local wedding party considered moving in here today . . . But I explained to them how . . .”
I look at Tweet. He smiles, “You knew, didn’t you?”
“No I didn’t know that I just got a line.”
Tweet says, “Well you felt good. That’s all that matters. And it’s not what’s being said but why it’s being said that matters.”
The hotel manager comes out and as we begin our tour, and immediately tells us about a wedding party, “You know, a local wedding party considered moving in here for the weekend . . . “ The B&B manager pauses (and my face falls), “But I explained to the local family how we had already booked a nice couple in the nicest room at our B&B and that you had requested peace and quiet.”
I process this information internally. “Wow we’re so lucky that he read between the lines of my email inquiry to find a peaceful place,” I think.
Tweet, as always, patiently listens to the manager explain what he did to prevent the other party from booking, and then offers, “Well thank you but you know there is no need to prevent other guests. We like to meet new people. If you want to invite them back, please feel free. Don’t hold them back on our account.”
I think to myself, “Tweet, no! I do want peace and quiet and I don’t want to share this great view.”
The next day a local couple shows up. They look quickly at a room and then leave. We have the B&B to ourselves for the entire five days.
On the day we checkout, we have some overlap with a newly-arrived couple, who look not too unlike ourselves – young professionals who haven’t been outside to much. Out comes the manager speaking in a tone of voice I’d heard before, “You know, a local wedding party considered moving in here today . . . But I explained to them how . . .”
I look at Tweet. He smiles, “You knew, didn’t you?”
“No I didn’t know that I just got a line.”
Tweet says, “Well you felt good. That’s all that matters. And it’s not what’s being said but why it’s being said that matters.”
