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?
