"I'm calling to apologize" I told him. There was a sudden silence at
the end of the line. I thought we had been disconnected. Then he said
"You're what?". "I'm calling to apologize" I repeated. There was
another silence ... until he said (with no sarcasm in his
voice
- rather just skepticism and disbelief) "No one ever calls
to apologize. People only call to complain.".
A Clear Case Of Theft
It was a nice hotel. Nothing fancy. Just ... nice. The room was
comfortable, clean. There were plenty of fresh towels. The TV had a
dozen or more movie channels. Oh and yes, it was just a few miles down
the road from some of the
most amazing
waves
on the
planet.
I'm a creature of habit. In every single hotel I stay in, I unpack in
exactly the same way. While the layout of each room is obviously
different, I unpack my bags and place my belongings in the same
configuration, if you will, regardless of the room's layout,
drawers, or furniture. This way, without thinking I know where
everything is, I can find anything in the dark, and I never leave
anything behind. That's how it was when I came back to the room after a
quite fantastic afternoon's
surfing,
showered, and started preparing for the evening. I laid a clean shirt,
slacks, underwear, and socks neatly on the bed, and a pair of brown
loafers on the floor beside it. Then I looked for a belt ... and
couldn't find one anywhere.
"That's odd ..." I thought. I knew I'd brought a belt with
me. I even remember carrying it out from my home to the trunk of my car
with my other belongings. I looked through all the drawers. It wasn't
there. I looked under the bed. It wasn't there. I looked in my
suitcase. It wasn't there. So I walked out to the parking lot,
carefully retracing my steps in case I dropped the belt along the way
(it wasn't there), and back to my car. I looked in the front and in the
back and then in the trunk. The belt was nowhere to be found.
Slowly it dawned on me (and it's a thought I quickly didn't want to be
having): someone stole my belt from the room while I was away at the
beach.
It was just a belt. It was just a plain black belt which
goes well with my slacks. I can replace it easily enough. But (as they
say in the classics) it's the principle of the thing.
Someone, probably a housekeeper or a maid, came into the room to clean
it and make the bed while I was out, then took the belt ie
stole the belt. They no doubt thought it wouldn't be
missed - or it wouldn't be missed until it was too late. The
trouble is I did miss it - and I missed it immediately.
My inquiry "Is this really worth making a fuss over?" quickly ended
with a resounding "No.". Nonetheless, I picked up the phone on the
bedside table, called the front desk, and asked to speak with the
manager.
I told him what had happened. I told him it wasn't a big deal, really
... yet it was. I felt violated. My trust was betrayed. But given it
was just a belt, I told him I didn't think anyone should get
fired over it. I did say, however, that he should ask the
housekeeping staff, casually, if anyone saw a belt which was reported
missing from the room. That way he could watch for any tell
tale facial signs of embarrassment, signs of
guilt of being unexpectedly caught out for theft.
He said he would do so. He said he would get back to me once he'd
spoken with his staff. He never did.
I tried to envision, once or twice, what I would have seen on the
guilty face if I was him, asking his staff if anyone had seen a missing
belt. It was only a belt, an insignificant black belt which wasn't very
expensive to replace. Yet I had to bring it to his
attention.
Someone stole it from my room while I was out. It was the principle of
the thing.
* * *
At the end of my stay, I packed my belongings and left. Three days
later I bought a new black belt to replace the stolen one. I didn't
like the new one as much as the original. That said, I didn't think
about the
incident
again after that ie I didn't think about the theft again
after that.
A Crooked Mat
It's been seven months since those
most amazing waves.
I return to my car in the parking lot of my gym, having just
completed
swimming
two miles. I open the trunk to stow my swimming gear, and that's when I
notice the mat on the floor of the trunk is crooked. I try to
straighten it but I can't. It's weighed down and held in place by a
box of tools
and an emergency reservoir of water sitting on top of it. I could
ignore it and leave it crooked
the way it is
... but I don't. I don't like crooked.
So, right there in the middle of the parking lot, I set my swimming
gear on the ground. I unload the
tool box
and the water reservoir which I place on the ground next to the
swimming gear. Then, as I'm straightening the crooked mat, I notice
there's a trunk liner under the mat, which is also
crooked.
Having come this far, I'm not stopping now. Out comes the crooked mat
which I put on the ground. Out comes the trunk liner which also goes on
the ground, and now the metal of the trunk compartment is completely
bare and exposed. The spare wheel is revealed in a well in the floor of
the trunk. I may as well now also clean around the spare wheel, which I
start doing ... and that's when I suddenly see what looks like a
hidden, crammed piece of something which I reach for to
dislodge, and ... Oh ... my ...
God!
... could it be? ... it's a black belt, a very familiar
looking black belt, neatly coiled, hidden just out of sight
behind the spare wheel.
* * *
It's not that I know how it got there. I don't. Yes I brought it out
from my home to my car and put it into the trunk. But I didn't cram it
under the mat next to the spare wheel. Yet reality doesn't lie.
Somehow it got there. There it is. It's been underneath
the mat, the erstwhile crooked mat, all this time. The black belt has
been there all this time. The black belt - the stolen
black belt.
A Call Back
Making the definitive statement, I remove the belt I'm wearing and
replace it with the black belt. I put the trunk liner and the mat back
in the trunk, both perfectly straight this time, then the water
reservoir and the
toolbox
and my
swimming
gear on top of the mat. The project to straighten the crooked mat is
now complete, right here, right now, out in the open, surrounded by all
the other cars, in my gym parking lot. With this completion comes the
awful resolution of the "clear case of theft" affair: it was I who left
the black belt in the trunk of my car, then accused a hotel housekeeper
and / or a maid of stealing it.
Mortified, yet setting my outright sheepishness and feeling totally
stoopid
aside, I know there's one thing left I had to do: I have to call the
hotel, let the manager know what happened, and apologize - to him, and
through him, to the housekeeper and to the maid.
I call the hotel and ask to speak with the manager. I give him the
exact dates I stayed at his hotel seven months ago, and the number of
the room in which I stayed. "What can I do for you?" he asks. I tell
him the whole
story.
He remembers me. I remind him I suggested he ask the housekeeping
staff, casually, if anyone saw a belt which was reported missing from
the room, so he could watch for any tell tale facial signs of
embarrassment, signs of guilt of being unexpectedly caught out for
theft. "So I'm calling to apologize" I tell him "for accusing your
staff of theft when clearly there was no theft at all - actually it was
I who simply,
stoopidly
misplaced my own belt.".
There's a sudden silence at the end of the line. I think we've been
disconnected. Then he says "You're what?". "I'm calling to apologize" I
repeat. There's another silence ... until he says (with no sarcasm in
his
voice
- rather just skepticism and disbelief) "No one ever calls to
apologize. People only call to complain.".
* * *
He promises he'll let the housekeeper and the maid know I called, what
I explained happened, and that I apologize to them, the ones who
serviced my room on the dates I gave him. I thank him. He thanks me. We
both hang up. A clear feeling, a lightness comes over me,
like I've done something awkward and (given my propensity for
self-righteousness, self-preservation, survival,
ego,
and arrogance) slightly unnatural - which is only available through
playing
big.
I like the feeling. No, it's more than just liking the
feeling. It's the feeling is divine, sublime - like an
elephant
just crawled off my back.
A Conclusion
I'm a bigger man, a black belt karateka if you will, when
I make a mistake then clean it up, than if I never make any mistakes at
all.