Should we exceed guests' expectations, or treat them as if they're lucky to be here?

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Having finally committed to the notion of getting our B&B thoughts and experiences organized in a hopefully readable form, I have decided to take a brief pause and take a closer look at what I am trying to achieve here, for my own sake and to convince readers of our positive intentions.

Obviously, there's disappointment that the very first business that we worked at for an extended period collapsed when we chose to leave it, and it is true that Jenny and I have had "issues" with other B&B owners since the debacle at Long Beach.

But this is not meant to be a bitter tirade against others, or a claim that only we know how to run a bed and breakfast effectively (meaning, let's face it, profitably!).

I have said several times already that doing the job right is much more about combining common sense and the golden rule than learning secrets that can only be gleaned from years of experience.

In the months between our vacation stint at Sue's place (the terrific Wild Rose Inn in Genoa, Nevada) and our decision to leave the Carson Valley and try innkeeping full time, I spent days and then weeks on end visiting countless websites and trying to get a feel for what made a bed and breakfast operation special. I read books and blogs and advice columns until I was cross-eyed, but as the weeks and months went by, I came to realize that the instincts that had kicked in at the WRI were really all Jenny and I needed to make a go of this new venture.

Our first fulltime employers did us a favor by reinforcing our best intentions and teaching us dramatic lessons in how not to run a B&B. How strange it was that Reuben could on the one hand express envy at the ease with which Jenny and I related to strangers and made them feel comfortable, and on the other fail to recognize the damage his own attitude was doing to his own "people business"?

Dennis at the Artists Inn gave us one piece of advice that really stuck with us: "This is a Yes business, so always think long and hard before you tell someone No." We learned as we went along that sometimes you have to draw the line, but generally people are respectful and considerate and do not make unreasonable demands...they, too, follow the golden rule!

At the Artists Inn, we found ourselves working for a lady who had almost zero frontline experience at running her own business. Janet boasted that she had only cooked breakfast at the Inn twice in 15 years and made it clear that she did not expect to have to babysit her innkeepers. That was good news after the micro-managing paranoia we had been subjected to in Long Beach!

The bad news was that Janet basically felt that guests who paid good money to stay at her establishment were privileged to be able to do so and should accept whatever they found without complaint. Peeling paint in every direction, weeds choking pathways, battered and mis-matched furniture...all of that was, she felt, part of the Inn's charm and would make people feel at home.

The fact that the Inn had been on the market for many years and had come within an inch of actually finding a buyer was not, as far as Janet was concerned, an incentive to spruce the place up, improve occupancy levels, and make the Artists Inn more attractive not just to guests but to potential new owners. The inn was listed at $2.3 million when we arrived, and the realtor who put together the brochure and led other agents and occasional would-be buyers on tours of the property confirmed that that was Janet's appraisal, not hers or a number supported by a professional in the field. The message was clear: Janet would only sell if she found a buyer willing to pay around 30% above fair market value; in other words, she didn't want to sell the business at all.

Whenever I commented about the battered back fence, the unkempt condition of the yard, or anything else that was sure to catch the eye of guests and color their assessment of the value we were providing, Janet would respond with variations on a theme: "I'm selling the place and I don't need to fix it up. Whoever buys it will want to change things to make it their own anyway."

My counter-argument was similarly like a cracked record, versions of, "Sure, but this is a business, and we are charging people up to $250 a night to stay here - we owe it to them to make everything look as nice as possible."

The contradictions came to a head one day when Janet brushed off my latest list of broken down eyesores that needed fixing and said defiantly that she was going to walk through the entire property with her realtor and discuss my silly little so-called problems with an expert. It was, of course, the worst thing she could have done. I tagged along for the first part of the tour, but when it became clear that Suzanne had a list of complaints that was even longer than mine, I made my excuses and headed back to the office, hoping that Janet would appreciate that I had chosen not to stick around and gloat.
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