Lessons in Compassion or Is It Just Good Business?

You may have seen the following story (I found it on my Facebook feed.)

“A sweet lesson on patience. A NYC Taxi driver wrote: I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. 'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.' 'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?' 'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.. 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'. We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. 'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse. 'Nothing,' I said 'You have to make a living,' she answered. 'There are other passengers,' I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.' I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.”

Sure, it is a lesson on patience, but I think it is a lesson on character and making a difference in a seemingly insignificant way. But it reminded me of how we can apply it to our lives in the multifamily industry. Recently, I heard about how one management company suggests handling a long-term resident (seven years at a predominantly student housing community. Apparently the resident lived there while attending college and after graduation decided to stay.) It so affected me that my entire weekend was spent thinking about it. When a resident requests permission to find someone to sublease her apartment so she could leave the state to care for her ailing mother, their response was it was permissible so long as they understand no one in leasing will help them, even if they could easily locate a suitable replacement tenant. “Why would we?” was the corporate response.

Well, why not? Isn’t it the human thing, the compassionate thing to do for this resident? Wouldn’t this resident be much more likely to tell her friends and coworkers how great the apartment management response was, how supportive everyone was toward her circumstances, how much more likely this person would be to refer everyone she knows to this community? After all, the management company continues to gain new leases from others, but in the process why is it the worst business decision to provide the opportunity to fill this standing lease? Of course, I understand that the goal is always to fill true vacant units first, but when I know there is the chance to make a difference in the life of one person, is that all bad?

This Thanksgiving ...

During the next few days, many people will be buying lots of ingredients for recipes they prepare once a year for a crowd of people they see once a year and offering prayers of gratitude they say once a year. For me, this is my favorite time of year. Not because of the food, not because of the people, and certainly not because I offer prayers of gratitude only once a year. For me, this is the time of year that reinforces my faith in all that has blessed me: the changing of the season from hot as hell to one as colorful as rainbows and sunsets. This is the time of year when my children and I share stories and dreams and wishes (even if we are all adults now.) This is the time of year where we gather to become present in the moment, in each other, in the goodness we have as a family.

Our family of three does not find relatives traveling many miles to see us (heck, they don’t even pick up the phone or email); my children pretty much grew up without any grandparents doting on their every milestone and sharing those cute little Brag Books to anyone who would look at them because their grandparents passed away when they were very young (except for their father’s mother who disowned us when their father and I divorced.) They grew up without a lot that others take for granted. We all grew up together and learned to rely on one another, trust one other to guide us in our decision-making which carries on today. My two probably figured out that Mom didn’t always know best the day I went to the Pound and got a dog (which, it turns out, was a great decision after all. Just saying.)

But at this time of year, I like to reflect on all that I know, all that I have, and all the joy I share in each day. Because when you hear those words that you aren’t in remission, the little things in life become all important. Because when you run (well, mostly only walk) your first 5K and do it without any feeling in your legs and excruciating pain in your feet that are plopping along in an unnatural pounding sound, you are grateful that you can still move at all. Because when you find that the Regional in your life treats you like you are nothing and worthless and stupid and he is sorry he listened to the company president and hired you, you are grateful to find the strength and courage to walk away, literally, and never look back. Because when you look around your new office and realize that the team you are training and building is exactly what this property needs, you are grateful for the opportunity to share your knowledge, enthusiasm, and talent.

For what, I ask you, are you grateful?

  

Becoming a Roommate Is Not Always Easy

Do you know how weird it is to pull up in your car, packed with all of your clothes, most, okay – just some of your shoes – and look up to see you are sitting in front of your son’s house? It’s a temporary solution to a new situation. At least, this is what I tell myself. The door was open and I could see a happy little face staring out of the glass, tail wagging, all excited to meet this person who will hopefully be new and full of time to give much deserved attention. Yes, moving in with my son – my son, his dog, his girlfriend, and until just a couple of days ago, now a paying roommate/renter. Add to this mix – The Mother.

My son’s name is Tom (Thomas Sean) and he adopted a black Lab who, unbelievably, was already named Sawyer. Get it – Tom’s dog is named Sawyer! What a hoot! Sawyer is a big dog who likes nothing more than sitting right beside you and begging for a scrap or two. If you don’t willingly offer him something, he’ll just nudge close enough to grab it right out of your hand. He’s not even the least bit apologetic either. But he is just so darn cute, it’s hard to stay too mad at him. Plus, it wouldn’t so any good since he honestly couldn’t care less if you’re upset … or hungry, still.

Sawyer has lots of beds, I discovered, throughout the house, including the corner of the basement TV room where I had just taken up residency. This room is tiny, as far as TV rooms go – real estate professionals such as myself would describe it as “cozy” but it is tiny. It’s dominated by his huge big screen with surround sound. That first night I pulled out my queen size air mattress and my son plugged it in and it magically, and quickly, expanded to fill the tiny space. Literally, it reached from one side of the room and touched the loveseat. No more room for Sawyer’s bed, which we placed in the adjacent laundry room, which, because it contained an actual sink and counter became my closet and dressing room. Sawyer accepted the change with great grace and didn’t seem to mind. He willingly snuggled up to me on the loveseat every chance he got and I did not mind at all.

One night, around 2 AM, I woke up to hear Sawyer running around the house like a dog obsessed. I rolled over and tried to ignore it. I heard him at one point come into the TV room-turned-bedroom and leave a minute later. Shortly thereafter, I smelled something. Hummm? I got up and turned on the light. Yep, he had left a smelly disgusting pile right there at the end of the bed. 

I went upstairs to tell Thomas Sean that his dog had pooped and to ask where the cleaning supplies were. After that incident, we just left the cleaning supplies in the TV room. Apparently, Sawyer did not think his bed being moved was such an agreeable proposition. Ahhh, the search for a new home for me cannot come fast enough! And that is when it occurred to me that being uprooted, even for a dog, came have ramifications we may not even recognize. Perhaps we should keep this in mind when dealing with those Prospects who come to us for guidance and help in deciding where to lay their heads each night. Yes, I understand – now more than ever.