When my husband and I got married, we were broke. We pooled the money from wedding cards and the “money dance” and booked the only honeymoon we could afford: a quick flight to Seattle. We splurged on a “fancy” hotel within walking distance of all the attractions. We felt like royalty. The world was our oyster—and yes, we were eating those too.
But there was one thing I really wanted: Alaskan King Crab legs. Ever since I was a kid, these giants were the ultimate splurge, reserved for only the most special occasions—and I thought our honeymoon qualified. But despite being in the perfect place to order these crave-worthy crustaceans, we couldn’t find them on a single menu in Seattle.
Now, this hotel—did I mention it was fancy?—had an attentive and eager concierge. He radiated warmth and seemed to live for challenges like ours. When we shared our quest (and that we were honeymooners), he was in. For the next couple of days, he kept us updated on his “mission,” and was baffled by how hard it was proving to be.
Finally, as we passed through the lobby, he called us over with a proud smile—he’d found the King Crab legs. He’d even made the reservation personally. When we arrived at the restaurant, we didn’t need a menu. “Bring out the bibs!” I wanted to shout.
A few minutes after taking our order, the waiter returned—not yet with our plate of legs and crackers, but with two beautifully seared crab cakes. “We didn’t order these,” we said, worried they’d push us over budget. “These,” the waiter replied, “are compliments of your hotel concierge.”
Seventeen years later, that concierge is still a legend in our household—a symbol of joy, pride, and true hospitality. I work in education, not hospitality, but I’ve always loved the idea of treating people the way he treated us.
Imagine how different the world would feel if we all acted a little more like that concierge.
It’s in that spirit that I created a monthly membership for current college students—something like a personal concierge desk.
Starting the summer before college begins, our counselors help students: ✔️ Review class schedules
✔️ Navigate orientation
✔️ Set and stick to goals
✔️ Tap into campus resources
✔️ Avoid the dreaded Turkey Day Panic (that moment in November when many college students consider dropping out)
My hope? That students in this program feel the way I did back in Seattle—like someone is truly looking out for them, cares about their happiness, and is invested in helping them find what they’re looking for.
And who knows? Maybe there’ll be some juicy crab legs involved too.