My Favorite Job: Motel Cleaning at the Route 66 Hotel
(L to R) Ann Kramer, Sandy Lane, Scott Lane, Matt Wagner, Gene Kramer in front of the Route 66 Motel
I’ve been reminiscing recently about a cherished summer job in 1988. It was not the accounting internship I desired, nor a glamorous position; my job was cleaning motel rooms.
The Route 66 Motel in Kingman, Arizona, was a haven for travelers, nestled roadside to the historic highway. Gene and Ann Kramer, North Dakota natives, were its dedicated owners, spending their waking hours tending to the motel and its occupants' daily needs.
The Kramer’s were hardworking, good people from whom I learned many life lessons that summer. None of these lessons were taught in my business courses, but have stayed with me throughout my career.
The summer of 1988 fell between my junior and senior years in college. A student in the Midwest, I decided to spend that summer with my parents, who had moved to Kingman, Arizona, in 1986. It was an opportunity to enjoy my last collegiate summer out west before entering the working world.
It was also an excellent time to get an internship in my accounting field, or so I thought. My quest to work in accounting that summer was less than fruitful. Pre-Internet, I relied on recommendations from my dad and the good old-fashioned telephone book, sending resumes to every accounting firm in Kingman. Soon, I learned my first lesson in public accounting: They don’t like to work in the summer.
Without a single bite in accounting, I resorted to Plan B, which was getting any paying job. My dad was a barber in Kingman with many connections in the community. He put out his feelers and came through with a lead.
Gene Kramer was Dad’s customer at the barbershop. The two men shared a Midwestern connection with Dad’s roots in Iowa and Gene’s in North Dakota. When Dad explained to Gene that his daughter was having trouble securing a summer job, Gene quickly jumped on the opportunity.
Gene had his fill of the less-than-ambitious help. He loved the idea of employing a Midwestern girl.
“Tell your Iowa daughter to look me up the minute she gets into town.”
That is what I did. After a twenty-four-hour cross-country car drive from Iowa to Arizona, my first stop was at the Route 66 Motel. I was hired on the spot.
Ann Kramer was in charge of running the rooms, and Gene ran the front desk. They were about sixty-ish in age and had “Nort Dekoda” accents, with Ann’s being especially strong. She was a straight shooter who ran a tight ship.
Not one for small talk or unnecessary pleasantries, Ann ran me through the expectations of a room cleaning. Keeping a fully stocked cleaning cart, I followed Ann and learned the ropes. As I shadowed, Ann assessed my skills. It didn’t take long until I was given the nod and let loose.
My days were filled with switching out dirty sheets, dusting off television sets, vacuuming green carpets, and emptying cigarette ashtrays. I did not take my promotion to independent work lightly and gave equal effort when unsupervised.
My pay was based on the number of rooms cleaned, which was common in the industry. I was paid $5 per room for a total of twenty-two rooms. With both of us cleaning, my earnings depended on my speed compared to Ann’s.
I quickly learned that I was very good at cleaning the rooms and streamlining the steps involved in the process. Within days, I could clean four rooms to pristine in an hour. Ann confided that their prior help took thirty minutes to clean each room. Following inspection, it was clear that my speed didn’t equate to shoddy work.
With time management and multi-tasking skills in high gear, my accounting mind quickly deduced that making $20 an hour and being done by noon was a good gig. Note that this was in the eighties, with minimum wage at $3.35 an hour. I was earning 2.5 times more than my counterparts who worked eight-hour shifts.
Ann saw this as a win-win situation. Rooms were ready for their customers earlier, resulting in a “no vacancy” sign turned on before nightfall. Ann found her extra time better spent on other duties and new-found personal time. And I was quietly out of their hair by lunch.
My first lesson was understanding the concept of value. My hard work allowed them to fill rooms sooner, providing clean rooms to their happy customers. I was rewarded for this value by earning a higher wage while having my afternoons off.
The Kramers quickly became fond of their new Midwestern hire. Soon, they invited me to join them for lunch in their private kitchen before I took off for the day. After a few more weeks, they asked me to watch the front desk, entrusting me with the cash register. This allowed them to enjoy lunch together at the Bob’s Big Boy restaurant across the highway, a luxury they had rarely previously enjoyed.
My next lesson was on the value of earning one’s trust. As the summer wore on, I also learned the importance of holding this trust in high regard.
My summer cleaning motel rooms may sound domestic and quite horrible compared to a swanky accounting internship. But it was just the opposite. I enjoyed a routine and the trade-off of working hard with having afternoons to myself.
By morning, I furiously cleaned motel rooms and lunched with the Kramers or covered the front desk for them. My leisure afternoons at my parents’ home consisted of laying out in the sun and watching Magnum P.I. reruns. I caught up on reading and wrote letters to friends back home while sipping Diet Coke. The summer of 1988 was a pre-adulting dream.
Ann also became an unlikely friend. We shared stories and many laughs during our side-by-side cleaning and deli meat and cheese lunches. I often teased her that she couldn’t keep up with me when cleaning, but Ann only saw this as a challenge.
One steamy Arizona morning, with our dueling cleaning carts humming down the outside corridors, Ann needed to stop for a bathroom break. I was ahead in room count, and Ann was annoyed at a delay in her quest to catch up.
After doing her business, she hurriedly grabbed her cart and passed me.
And then I saw it. Floating in clear daylight from the top of her shorts was an errant strip of toilet paper. In her haste, the discarded paper intended for the toilet bowl stayed with her.
Contemplating how to tell my boss that she had toilet paper hanging from the back of her shorts, I got a severe case of giggles. As I tried stopping Ann to point out her imperfection, she kept speeding away. I can only imagine how this looked from the vantage point of a trucker in the parking lot: A tanned, laughing girl furiously trying to grab toilet paper from the behind of a short, gray-haired speed demon.
Eventually, Ann noticed my shadowing and laughter.
“What da hell is da matter wit ya??”
Still unable to speak, I could only point to her tail with tears streaming down my face.
“Well, what da hell?” she said with a smile and a pull. “Now, ya get back to work!”
We laughed together as we retold our follies to Gene over noontime lunch. This story was repeated on many occasions until summer’s end. Lesson learned: Friendship can come in the most unlikely places and when you least expect it.
By the end of the summer, I was promoted to front desk night detail, checking in customers while Ann and Gene enjoyed an occasional dinner out. They also picked up on my artistic skills, and I was assigned to repaint building signage.
With these newly added duties, I was earning even more than my room rates and was flattered by their final request to babysit their granddaughters. I had become their valued assistant, up for any task asked of me.
By August, my days with the Kramers and working on my tan had ended. My last day at Route 66 Motel closed over pickled bologna sandwiches, hard cheese, stale crackers, and some noontime talk about current hotel guests. With hugs and wishes of good luck, we parted, and I started my journey back to the Midwest.
The value of relationships was the most important lesson I learned that summer. My dad’s relationship with Gene created a critical introduction. The relationship I then formed with Gene and Ann started with the commonality of a high work ethic but grew into a shared friendship and family. Trust was earned.
Under the Arizona sun and the watchful eyes of Midwestern business owners, I was taught hard work and the joy of an entrepreneurial spirit.
Although my LinkedIn experience does not go back to 1988, perhaps it should and would read something like this:
Motel Assistant - Route 66 Hotel, Kingman, Arizona
May 1988 — August 1988
Starting responsibility was as a room cleaner. After demonstrating efficiency and a high standard of cleanliness, I was recognized for process and time management skills. Promoted to high-level positions within the organization, including customer concierge, graphics design artist, and skilled caregiver. Experience gained in the areas of hard work, trust, humor, empathy, responsibility, and the concept of return on value. Skills added in leadership training include how to lead a good life. Compensation for work performed: Priceless.
Yes, that covers it well. Thanks, Gene and Ann, for the mentorship and internship on living.
Gene Kramer passed away on May 5, 2024, at 92, after living a full and generous life. Link to his obituary: https://www.amundsonfuneralhome.com/obituaries/eugene-kramer
