Under New Management
The white vinyl sign hanging in front of the roadside motel reads, "under new management." I always wonder what they're hoping I'll think when I see that. I, like probably most of the other drivers, find myself playing along pretending to know what they're intimating. "Mmm yes, that's good to know, very good. This is a significant development." But in reality, I've never stayed there nor do I know anything about the former or current management and what this all means for, say, the continental breakfast, the minimalist decor or the number of ellipticals in the workout room. I wonder if the old manager is offended. When he drives by this sign on his way to work at his new job at the less reputable inn down the road, does he hang his head in shame, or put down the passenger sun visor so his face can't be seen from that side of the road.
The more I think about it I question the thesis that newer is the same as better and that simply because the old manager didn't last we're automatically in better hands. What if she just retired to spend more time with her grandchildren and volunteer at the food pantry? Worse, this new manager could have hung the sign as a red herring to distract you from the Loomis truck carrying duffel bags of cash and dismembered body parts to an offshore account in the Cayman's! Newer certainly is better when it comes to flat screen tv's and milk. But by that same logic a premature baby would be the obvious choice to advise you on whether to cash in your 401K and buy crypto coins.
The other thing I wondered is who this motel might be trying to impress with their sign. The people who drive on this road are probably on their way to work--which means they already have a place to sleep. However, I certainly can understand the urge to call in sick on your way to the office, check into a discount room and spend half a day flipping through channels one by one until you've seen most of about 6 different movies. Or perhaps, just because I don't see interlopers doesn't mean they don't exist. This is not a highway, but it is a thoroughfare and perhaps there is a middle aged Kansas couple trying to visit all 50 states the old fashioned way---stopping to smell the roses and driving at the minimum posted speed. She might turn to him and with a gentle touch of the arm and say, " Oh Vern, honey why don't we stop here for the night. This seems like a good place, real trustworthy folks." She can't be blamed for deferring to a place of security. These 35 years of marriage have been nothing but a celebration of predictability and trained her on the inestimable value of choosing not to try new things. Every morning back in Kansas, Vern wakes to Dotty putting on coffee, mixing orange juice concentrate, pouring eggs from a carton, buttering 40 toasted english muffins with those miniature butter bricks in the plastic trays and unlocking the padlock on the mini fridge where the yogurt is kept. "Dear, I'm feeling like waffles this morning." he might say. Dumping the uneaten feast into a gray garbage bin with a knotted black trash bag, she hands him a plastic cup which he takes across the room to collect a long draw from the waffle mix spigot they had installed in the wall of their kitchen. They sit around their wobbly, circular table and gingerly maneuver floppy plastic cutlery while they make small talk about how comfortable their mattress was last night and what was on the news this morning. It's these folks, I imagine, who look forward to motels and read flappy vinyl signs like they mean something, because they do. While it's mundane to me, I know there are people who would find it heartwarming, that a motel's management would go to such great lengths to reassure them of, well frankly anything. If the sign had said "our toilets flush!" I think Vern and Dotty would have made love on the motel's creaky, barely twin-sized bed all the same.
The next thought I have is more troubling, and it's that maybe this suggestion that there is "new management" is some sort of lingo I don't understand: a prostitution ring operating out of the first floor rooms, or maybe just some this-motel-will-let-you-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want type of business. It seems that with increasing regularity phrases get dropped in a conversation that leave me smiling faintly and nodding my head, outwardly feigning comprehension, but inwardly praying I didn't just become complicit a dirty joke or agree to smoke "doobies" with someone later. I mentally file these questionable items away for a future evening educating myself on urbandictionary.com. Though unlikely, I prefer to assume the worst and double check rather than let everyone I've ever respected tell me, "you probably shouldn't say things like that in public."
Assuming that new management is in fact a good thing, then it's fair to assume that whoever it is that will be renting a room here will still have a slightly below average experience, maybe a bit better than the last place, maybe worse. Never absolutely terribly but certainly never great. The real tragedy of all of this is that this focus on the management is drawing our attention away from the things that really matter, things that can change your experience, things that aren't even remotely insured by a change in management. I rarely come in contact with the manager of a motel. I doubt they've cleaned my toilet or checked around the base of my bed for forgotten boxer shorts. I doubt they're the ones cooking the flatulent eggs or mopping up the syrup spills. Even if they do really care, the most they could even do is smile and let me borrow their pen to sign the receipt.
So, in case you were wondering, here's how to sell me on a motel--and if you want to use a sign that implies that new things are better than the old things, that's fine with me! But make it about things that matter! "New custodians;" "new recipes;" "new carpets;" "Toilets that flush!" Or if I'm being perfectly honest, save yourself the trouble and just don't hang up a sign at all.