Jai, Ganesha!
The Hindu god Ganesh, the remover of obstacles in the form of an elephant, sits in statue form in many rooms in my home. Who doesn’t need a little assistance with obstacle elimination?
A recent overnight trip to Boston made me think of how obstacles impact us. If we can manage to reframe them or have them reframed for us, are they even obstacles?
Expectations
Marriott: According to their emails, Marriott’s Residence Inn Dedham happily anticipated my arrival and looked forward to fulfilling my every need – at least the hotel stay-related ones. I had high hopes.
Kava: On the other hand, getting a reservation at the South End Greek restaurant Kava, where we intended to fete my sister on her birthday, proved a three-person, multipronged, military-level strategic operation. I had low expectations.
Reality
Marriott: Samantha, the front desk clerk and assistant manager at the hotel, quickly cast a shadow on my sunny disposition. I stood at the desk while she studiously ignored me, much like the Post Office clerks in Athens when I’d go to retrieve my poste restante mail in the summer of 1981. Samantha neither made eye contact, nor greeted me in any way until I cleared my throat, that physiologically needed no clearing, several times and finally exhaled a frustrated, “Excuse me?” She didn’t even look up, but simply exhaled, “Yes?”
Things went from bad to worse. Overbooking, rooms not yet ready, fire equipment duct-taped to the elevator wall, stained carpet, drug paraphernalia in the stairwell, bags of trash in the hallways, and finally,a power outage. The skeleton staff and AWOL general manager did nothing to atone for the negative impact of any of these problems, especially the blackout. Guests navigated dark hallways with cell phone flashlights, one lamenting that her husband’s refrigerated medicine might have gone bad, with no staff available to help in any way. One man sitting behind the counter (it was unclear if he even worked there) just kept shrugging his shoulders with an air of irritation that implied we’d all interrupted his nap. Adding salt to the now gaping wounds of outrage, I was convinced that the mosquito bites that covered my body and itched so badly that I wanted to rip my skin off were from Marriott bed bugs that had chosen me as their hotel and might hitch a ride home with me.
Kava: The Dedham clouds followed us into Boston’s South End that evening and rain threatened as my brother-in-law searched for a parking spot. Things looked grim: crowds spilled out of the narrow restaurant entryway into the street and the music played so loudly both inside and out that we had little chance of hearing the waiter and less of hearing each other. It was hot, humid, muggy and close. Chaos prevailed. I could feel a migraine gathering in my head as the thunderclouds gathered overhead, both threatening to explode with loud cracks of pyrotechnics.
Festering vs. Removal
Marriott: Clearly, the Residence Inn had neglected to invite Ganesh in. Samantha’s initial surliness only faintly foreshadowed the tsunami of bitchiness to come. She stormed past unhappy guests in the morning, having parked in the handicapped spot near the door, ignoring protests and readily admitting that she was not, in fact, physically disabled in any way. When I told her about the needles on the stairs and trash in the halls, she said, “I don’t care right now,” and when I deposited my key in the provided receptacle, she actually wished me “a bad day.”
Kava: The host parted the sea of hopeful potential diners for us and sat us immediately. The congenial and clearly very busy waiter welcomed us immediately and plied us with constantly replenished water bottles and quickly delivered cocktails. He apologized for the loud music and promised to try to persuade the manager to turn it down. He brought upgraded wine by the glass because the bartender had opened a nice bottle by mistake. He apologized repeatedly for the slow pace of service (which we neither noticed nor minded). We had a table full of mezes and a sister/mother/wife/mother-in-law to celebrate. He brought several complementary skewers of grilled chicken and beef, and a round of ouzo shots for the table. He treated my sister to a dessert plate of baklava and Greek yogurt with honey and walnuts and sang with us as she blew out her candle.
The Upshot
What could have been a triumph turned into an utter disaster. What could have been a disaster turned into a delightful triumph.
Samantha’s actions resulted in a disgruntled customer and a very long letter to Marriott customer service. The Kava waiter (I could not hear his name) got a great tip and earned accolades for the restaurant.