A few years ago, I was working in South Africa and was put up in a nice hotel in Durban.
My mobile phone battery was low and I didn’t have my charger. I was saving its juice to call home so I booked an early morning wake-up call, explaining to the desk that 7.00 am would be fine.
06.45 am; phone rings. I thrashed around in the dark and picked it up, unsure what to expect. It was a smiley man with a very deep voice.
‘Good morning Mr Andrew Cope. If I may be so bold as to call you Mr Andrew?’
‘Morning,’ I grunted. ‘Who is this?’
‘Robin, sir. This is your early morning call, Robin-style sir.’
‘Err, thanks, Robin.’ But he wasn’t finished.
‘You requested 7 o’clock, Mr Andrew. But it’s only 6.45. And that is because we have a wonderful South African breakfast waiting for you sir. I figured you’d need a little extra time to enjoy it.’
‘Thanks, Robin. That’s, err, very kind.’
‘And Mr Andrew, you need to know that it’s a chilly morning today so please wear a sweater. I wouldn’t want you catching a chill and taking it back to dear old Eeengland.’
‘No,’ I chuckled, ‘that’d never do.’ And he still wasn’t finished.
‘So, before I go, are there any taxis you need me to book or any arrangements I can help you with this morning, Mr Andrew?’
I was sat up and smiling. ‘No thanks, Robin. And you can call me Andy. I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.’
‘Excellent Mr Andy. And I know you’re going to have a fabulous day.’ I could hear him grinning down the phone.
I had a Cheshire Cat look about me as I leapt into the shower, got dressed and skipped downstairs.
I sought out Robin at reception. Nope.
Maybe he was the hotel manager? Nope.
And then I heard him, outside, ‘…and I hope you have a fabulous day.’
Robin was the bell boy. His job was to meet, greet and carry cases. He also did wake-up calls. In hotel terms, he was on the lowest rung of the corporate ladder.
And I’ve never met a happier man.