I wouldn’t hesitate in characterizing myself as a “good person.”  I’m no angel – probably a little closer to an upbeat cheerleader devil who tells you that you are great when she thinks you are great, and struggles with the already tiny filter between her brain and mouth when she thinks you’re not.  Usually, these momentary slips, frequent as they are, come in good humor and are not mean-girl-esque. 

This morning, I had a mean girl moment that I’m wildly ashamed of.  

See, given the nature of my job in training, consulting, and speaking, I travel frequently.  I can tell you where to get the brand of yogurt that you want in the SeaTac airport or the best spot to build yourself a productivity nest in the A Concourse at Denver International.  I can almost always pack my suitcase to the 50lb mark without going over.  I remember flight attendant names.  And, most importantly, I can go through the security line with breakneck speed.   2 bins, bag in the first, pull out the laptop –it goes in the second, jacket off before I get to the table so it’s already in the first bin, slip out of the flip-flops, and I never have anything besides lint in my pockets. “Any liquids, Ma’am?”  No.  Liquids at the TSA line are for chumps.  I don’t do the backscatter machines, but that’s why I scout the line with the metal detectors or I opt-out for the “federal feel-up.” 

It’s an art form, and I’m never one to skimp of quality art supplies or techniques.  And like any artist, I get really snobby about critiquing other people’s work.

This morning as I departed to speak for the Houston Apartment Association Expo and Conference, I was standing in line and I was watching the people in front of me.  They were SO SLOW.  One group was a family of three that I was pretty sure had never been on a plane since the pre 9/11 days, and the two people behind them were slightly more aware of what to do, but still had the look of, “huh?” about them.  I wanted yell out at them to take off their shoes.  I wanted to give them the “take off your jacket, you weirdo!” look.  I wanted to taze them to either get them to move faster or so that I could step over them.  But, I didn’t do these things.  The TSA has so little pleasure in their day, and I’d never steal the joy from them that way.   I started to wonder why, if I could have a shorter lane to get to the TSA, I couldn’t have a security lane for frequent fliers who know what they are doing. 

And just like that, it was “us” verses “them.”  Those pesky tourists.  Those causal fliers.  You know… the ones that board the plane in ZONE 4 – Shudder!  The Horror!

A lot of things happened in my head at the same time.  I felt righteous.  I felt smug.  I felt super ashamed. I am pretty sure my face turned red.  I realized that I hadn’t eaten breakfast and the lack of food had possibly made me unreasonable and cranky.

And I looked at the slow poke care bear fliers in front of me and thought, “So, this is what the new residents feel like.”

I’m pretty sure that at least one of them was aware of the other four Frequents in the line behind them shifting from foot to foot, their faces as full of malevolence as was socially acceptable for the situation, and, each and every one of us, making noises like a second grader who has been told they can’t go to the bathroom and have to just hold it for a little while.  And I wonder how incredibly uncomfortable it was for them to realize that.

I was being a brat.  They really didn’t know what to do, and they just happened to end up in front of me.  It took me back to my days on site.  Specifically, move in days, and walking a new resident through the lease.  Except, when I learned my company’s lease inside and out, I didn’t walk residents through it – I sprinted them through.  I was proud of how quickly I could do it.  I thought I was being super efficient until one day when my manager took me aside for some coaching.

Turns out, what I was really doing was giving terrible service. 

As a leasing consultant, assistant manager, or manager, we’re all frequent fliers when it comes to our lease.  We know the drill, we know the tricks, we know where each hidden “initial here” line is, and we have it down to an art.  But while Monet might be your taste,  Matisse may be more pleasing to your resident, and this is their gallery, not yours. 

Your new residents are casual fliers – they don’t go through a lease signing every day or every week.  They don’t even do it every month.  This is totally foreign to them in some cases, and it can be extremely uncomfortable to have to ask questions.  What I should have done this morning was offer to brief the confused people, quietly, before they got flustered.  I could have noticed the confused look in their eyes, or that they seemed a little lost. I should have offered to help – but I was too distracted with my own annoyance at being forced to slow down, that I couldn't see the situation for what it was until the opportunity to handle it well had totally passed. 

Without those tourists, those care bear fliers, the airlines wouldn't be in business and the price of my tickets would go sky high.  I need those people.  Without new residents, your occupancy would go downhill fast, and the price of your apartments, and your NOI, couldn't rise as quickly if all you had to push it up were renewals.  You need those new residents, even if they do slow down your day.

I offer you my moment of frequent flier hubris in the hopes that you’ll learn from my less than stellar moment of humanity and slow down your next lease signing, look for the confusion on your new resident’s face, and offer them the real service of not making them feel stupid.  And, that you’ll eat breakfast, because if you don’t, you could possibly get cranky.