The little bag of joy (and disappointment)

You know that feeling when something small makes your whole day? I had one of those moments recently during a work trip. And then… well, let me tell you what happened next.

Check-in

I was booking a hotel from our company’s approved list and decided to try somewhere new. Someone had mentioned it was good, it was significantly cheaper than my usual spots, and just as conveniently located. Perfect, right?

When I arrived, the location looked decent enough—maybe a little noisy, but nothing concerning. Check-in was standard: ID, credit card, the usual routine we all know by heart. But just as I was about to walk away with my key card, the desk clerk said, “Oh wait!” and handed me a small paper bag.

I could see water bottles inside, and my first thought was simply, “That’s nice—free water.” But when I got to my room and actually looked inside, I discovered two bottles of water, a little package of cookies, and a bag of Doritos.

I was absolutely delighted. It felt like receiving a surprise present. Here I was, a grown adult getting excited about a bag of Doritos, but there was something so unexpectedly joyful about it.

The Room

My room was lovely too—clean and well-laid-out. I wouldn’t call it fancy, but I really liked it. Then I noticed the TV displaying my name in beautiful sparkling lights: “Welcome, Rebecca!” with twinkling effects across the screen.

I felt so special. What a lovely welcome.

It struck me how such a small gesture made such a big difference. I realized some people might view that little bag differently—thinking, “They just made me carry my own amenities upstairs. This stuff could’ve easily been waiting in the room.” But that wasn’t how I felt at all. Receiving it at check-in made it feel like a gift, as if they were saying, “Here, we picked these out for you.”I also found a card on the dresser from management. It was mostly printed but included handwritten notes and a phone number for support. Just delightful.

The follow-up

The very next day, I told two different people about this hotel experience. That’s how good it made me feel—special and valued. And here’s the thing: I knew it was probably just their standard process for everyone, but it didn’t feel any less meaningful.

Then, later that morning, my phone rang. Unknown number, but I answered anyway.

It was the hotel calling to “check in” on me, asking what time I’d be returning that day. After some back-and-forth where I couldn’t give them a definitive answer, they kept probing about my evening plans and breakfast the next day. I was getting confused—it felt like someone trying to plan a date with me.

Finally, they got to the point: “We just wanted to spend some time with you and figure out how we can get more business with your company.“

And just like that, my joy balloon deflated.

All of that special feeling from the night before disappeared. I found myself wondering: was that lovely experience genuine hospitality, or was I just being worked as a potential sales lead? That little bag of cookies and Doritos that made me feel so valued? The sparkling lights with my name? The handwritten note? Were they just… bait?

So now what?

I’ll never really know the truth. Maybe the front desk staff genuinely wanted to create wonderful experiences for guests, and the sales call was just an unfortunate, separate follow-up. Maybe it was both—authentic hospitality with a sales strategy layered on top.

What I learned is that our perception of an experience can completely shift based on what comes after. Those cookies were still delicious. Those sparkling lights were still pretty. But that phone call changed the entire narrative of my stay.

It made me think about all the times we do things for others. Are we acting because we genuinely want to make someone’s day better, or because we want something in return? And does the recipient always know the difference?

The tricky part is that even if the hotel’s intentions were mixed, my initial experience was still real. I was genuinely delighted. Those emotions weren’t fake just because the motivation might have been complex. But that phone call sure left a sour taste. And while I had already enthusiastically recommended the hotel to two people based on my wonderful first impression, now I’m not so sure I would.

The wrap

Sometimes the little things that make us feel special really are just that—small acts of kindness with no strings attached. And sometimes there are strings. The challenge is figuring out which is which, and deciding whether it matters to you in the end.

Have you ever had an experience like this, where something that felt genuine turned out to have ulterior motives? Or maybe where you initially thought someone wanted something from you, but it turned out they were just being kind? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​