Inspired by Coconuts

An incredulous look swept over Jose May’s face.  “You are leaving today,” he asked with exasperation, “at what time?”  When I told him we would be departing at twelve o’clock, he replied, “I will see you at the front desk at noon then.”

For a moment, I felt like royalty: the manager of the restaurant/bar wanted to personally bid farewell to my wife, Kacey, and me before we returned to Minnesota.  When noon finally arrived and I stood at the reception desk relinquishing my room key, Jose May was nowhere in sight.  “Oh, well,” I thought to myself, “He must have gotten busy.  It is lunchtime, after all.”

Just then, the receptionist picked up her two-way radio and said with certain urgency, “Jose May…diez y ocho esta aqui.”  In other words, room 18, my room, was checking-out.  Within the time it takes to down a bottle of Corona on a hot day on a Mexican beach, I saw four figures rushing from the restaurant toward the reception desk.  Leading the way was Jose May, and with him was the restaurant’s executive chef and two servers.

As they drew closer, I noticed Jose May and one of the servers were holding something, but it wasn’t until they arrived at the reception desk that I could tell they were carrying two large coconuts.  But these were not regular coconuts; they came complete with a face created from limes, cherries, carrots, oranges, and watermelon.  Best yet, the coconuts were scalped and filled with a tropical drink.  It was impressive that Jose May was looking out for our hydration even upon our departure.

The four of them spent ten minutes chatting with us, telling us how much they appreciated our business and how they desired that we would return soon.  Again, this was all during one of the busiest parts of their day.

That was not the first time that Jose May treated us like King Boz and Queen Kacey.  He had been pestering me for a couple days to have dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.  Kacey and I were generally satisfied lounging around our hotel through breakfast and lunch, but by dinnertime, we began to feel a bit claustrophobic and preferred to explore other offerings.  However, Jose May was so insistent that Kacey and I adjusted our schedule on our final full day so that we could dine at the hotel’s restaurant.

Although he had several more than competent servers, Jose May chose to personally wait on us for the evening.  He made a specialty pre-dinner drink for us: the only margarita I have ever enjoyed in my life.  It included the unusual but divine additions of chile powder and tamarind sauce.  Shortly thereafter, he emerged with what appeared to be the expected Mexican chips and salsa.  However, he replaced the salsa with a fantastically delectable combination of mushrooms, onions, celery, chipotle, and cream cheese in a puree. 

We didn’t even bother to look at our menus as Jose May told us exactly what we should order: shrimp-stuffed grouper for the queen, and bacon-wrapped filet mignon for the king.  With dinner, he brought out two bottles of hand-picked and previously unopened wine, a fume blanc for Kacey, and a Malbec for me.  He opened the fresh bottles despite our proclamation that we would each only be enjoying a single glass.  At the end of our entree, Jose May encouraged the chef to greet us and discuss the making of our meal. 

After dinner Jose May himself put on a fire show as he made the caramel sauce to accompany the homemade crepes. He said, “If you don’t like, you don’t pay.”  Needless to say, we paid.

Including this dinner, Kacey and I spent a grand total of about $200, before tips, at the restaurant/bar over our five days at the resort.  While that amount is nothing to scoff at, it certainly does not make a significant impact on the bottom line.  It thus got me to thinking…how will Jose May benefit by treating us as royalty? 

First, we will write great reviews of his restaurant on various travel forums.  Further, our experience at the restaurant will also cause us to more highly recommend the accompanying hotel to other travelers.  Hotel management should appreciate Jose May’s role in that recommendation.  Finally, the next time we vacation in Mexico, Kacey and I will most certainly return to that hotel and restaurant.

I am grateful for the powerful lesson that Jose May reminded me of over our final hours at the hotel.  Through his actions, he reminded me that people are drawn toward others who treat them well.  As I reflect on which friends, colleagues, clients, and even family members I most associated with, it is those who treat me well.  And for those who treat me like royalty…well, they get the best I have to offer.

But most importantly, I learned that if I want others to be drawn toward me and if I want their best, I first need to treat them well.  And, to the extent possible, I need to treat them as royalty.  When people leave me, I need to let them know how much I enjoyed my time with them. 

When Kacey leaves the house, she needs to know I will genuinely miss her and I appreciate what she does for our family.  When the kids leave for school, they need to feel not like I am happy to get rid of them, but rather that I would prefer they didn’t have to go.  When I hang-up the phone after talking with my mom, she needs to feel like I cherished our conversation.  When I finish lunch with a friend, they need to feel like I can’t wait for our next meal together.  When I say goodbye to co-workers at the end of the day, they need to feel my sincere appreciation for their contribution toward our common goal.  And when class ends, each of my twenty-five students needs to feel like their attendance mattered that day.

So, thank you, Jose May.  Not for the margarita, the wine, the salsa dip, the fish, the steak, or even the coconut drink.  Thank you, rather, for the reminder to treat others like royalty.

To my readers, if you are ever near Tulum, Mexico, stay at the Cabanas Tulum hotel and eat at El Bistro.  And tell Jose May that Boz says, “Hello…and thank you.”