Invited to present at the Changing Change Management Conference, our plane arrived an hour late.

I found my driver waiting for me just outside baggage claim. He held a sign, “Dr. (they call me doctor there) David Schmaltz”, so I approached him and identified myself. The man standing next to him held a similar sign, “Dr. (they call Amy doctor, too) Amy Schwab,” and Amy tried to explain that she didn’t need a separate ride. But her driver spoke little English, clarified that she was, indeed, Amy Schwab, took her rollaway, and headed for the garage. My driver and I followed.

We took separate cabs to the same hotel. Amy felt kidnapped.

Then, as I was registering for our room, I asked that Amy’s name be entered into the computer, in case someone called for her. “But you are in a single room, Herr Schmaltz,” the clerk replied. Amy had a separate reservation and a separate single room. They found adjoining rooms for us, but had no double room available that night.

I liked this. After two weeks on the road, my inner introvert craved some cave time. Amy’s steaming nearly went to boiling point when I closed my door to use “my” facilities. I fell asleep in “my” room shortly thereafter. Amy was up in “her” room until after two, feeling abandoned.

The next day, the hotel had promised to move us to a double room, but they had no doubles available. They did have a junior suite overlooking the most popular shopping street in Vienna, which was slightly less per night than two single rooms. We agreed to take that.

This story should be no surprise to anyone who travels much. Planes arrive late. Reservations get garbled or lost. At the point where difference first appears, everything just looks f***ed up. Maybe you feel kidnapped. Or abandoned. Only later, sometimes much later, does a delightful end result emerge.

If you want something to end up delightfully, wait until delight appears, then call that the end. If you choose to end on a sour note, you’ll accumulate few sweet memories.