|This is a pretty accurate depiction of our interaction|
On Wednesday, June 12, 2013, I was doing my usual hourly receptionist duty when a gentleman and a lad (who I think was his son) came to the booth. As usual, in my very polite and cordial way I addressed him and asked how I could be of service. Straight off the bat he seemed very brash. He was one of those high coloured Jamaicans, the ones you expect to own hotels, factories and such, whose voices always surprise you just a little bit when you realize they’re actually from JA. He came to see one of the General Managers to have some fees waived for his business. I called that GM’s extension but it went to voicemail. I called his secretary and I was advised that the GM was on lunch. I informed the gentleman of this, and he in turn informed me in quite a matter-of-factly manner that he was coming all the way from St. Ann and had already spoken to the GM and needed to see him. It was about 12:40pm and he further insisted that he wasn’t about to stand around and wait for the GM to come back at 2:30 when he needed to return to the country. Throughout all this, the young lad just looked on grinning sheepishly like I was some sorta rat being cornered by a huge cat, as his father (I’m just assuming) continued to aggressively seek that for which he came. He pressed on, “Suh is only one manager? I can’t talk to someone else?” all the while sounding quite annoyed at what seemed like an impending exercise in futility. I said I would try the Managing Director. I was informed that he was in a meeting and was unavailable. I informed the man, and he was not pleased. However, he was adamant that he had to talk to somebody, and he wasn’t leaving until he did. I called the GM’s secretary again, who advised that the gentleman could choose to wait until the GM’s return. It was at this point, he started to make small talk, where I realized he seemed to just be mischievous, and not so brash after all. I told him that he could wait in the lobby, to which he said, “Why can’t I wait upstairs? I want to go upstairs and wait. And I want a room with dancing girls.” Yes. He really said this. Nuh kno wah do him *shrug*
At the dancing girls utterance, the lad, which once and for all I’ll assume IS HIS SON, had the biggest Cheshire cat grin and I couldn’t help but smile too. I told him we didn’t have any dancing girls, but I could ask if he’d be allowed to wait upstairs. While making the inquiry on his behalf he said that I must be from the country, because I was very courteous and gave him good customer service. When I informed him that I had lived in Portland for sometime, he nodded and said “yeah man, mi know seh a country yuh come from!” Shortly afterwards he said he would go on the road and return and at the same time the rightful receptionist returned, and I promised him that she would take good care of him and he thanked me. After I returned from lunch, I went upstairs, and lo and behold! There he and his son were, waiting to be seen by the GM. He shook my hand and asked for my name and thanked me once more when I was going by. On the return trip, he shook my hand again and told me I was a good man. He admonished me not to change. Guess it was worth it after all. I was really happy to hear that.
I posted the song below before, but it’s so powerful and relevant, I’m sharing it again. Remember the next time you have to do customer or Christian service, that it pays to serve Jesus 🙂
Don’t worry about getting back at anybody down here on earth; frankly, earth sucks! Store your treasures in heaven. Enjoy the song.