I received a call early one morning and, unfortunately, said, “Okay, why not?” to a Hilton Honors smooth-talker offering a reduced-rate hotel room. All I had to do was listen to a fifteen-minute presentation.

Fast-forward a day, another person called to explain what I committed to doing. I found out the presentation was two hours long, and the room provided was a Hampton Inn.

Fast-forward a month, I explained to another caller why I was unhappy with their dishonest sales tactics. She apologized and offered a room at the Hilton in Times Square. I was pleased to accept a great room in my favorite city of all time. But she clarified that I needed to stay two hours at the presentation, or they would bill me for the entire room price.

Fast-forward again to me arriving on the 44th floor to fulfill my obligation. Welcome, Rudy, the sales rep. When he shook my hand, he apologized for two broken front teeth.

Up-front, I said,  “Just to be honest, I don’t want a timeshare.”

He didn’t care, but asked:

How many days do you travel a year?

What do you spend on lodging a night?

How many kids and grandchildren do you have?

Do you like to travel?

Do you like to save money?

What’s your legacy?

Do you want to leave good things for your kids when you die?

I was 100% truthful.

Rudy grew frustrated with my unwavering, “I don’t want a timeshare.”

He soon turned on a movie about Conrad Hilton and left the cubical.

He eventually came back and asked what I wanted to talk about. I told him I was a therapist and we could have a session. He didn’t smile. He asked if I liked the movie. I told him I once owned a Carnegie Library and explained what Andrew Carnegie and Conrad Hilton had in common.

Once the silence grew uncomfortable, I asked how the dentist would fix his teeth. He told me, and I shared my dental stories. He then turned on another movie and again left.

He returned, leaned back in his chair, and put his hands behind his head. He sarcastically said, “Since you travel and don’t like to save money, I’m going to do us both a favor and let you leave.”

Yippee!

I thanked Rudy, shook his hand, and told him I enjoyed the visit. He walked me to the unsmiling checkout guy, who gave me the promised goodies. Then, Rudy escorted me to the elevator and pushed my floor number.

I laughed the rest of the day.

I tell this story because it has a mental health lesson: Be yourself, honest and clear.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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