While most of our reputation management work is for companies that are either well-established, large or both, occasionally I’ll stumble across a small business from which some of the large ones might learn a lesson.

We were heading to northern Wisconsin for a wedding. A couple days before the trip, I received a call from the place we were planning to stay. It turns out that they sold the condo we had reserved two months prior. It seems that the developers of the property—I’ll do them a favor and keep their name out of it—had turned the property into condos and had been unable (surprise, surprise) to fetch the $400K per copy they were seeking. So they turned it into a vacation rental property while they tried to sell the units. In the process of creating the condos, the developers also destroyed a quaint northern Wisconsin getaway that was a wonderful part of my childhood, but that’s a rant for another time.

So, when I received the call, the discussion went something like this:

“Unfortunately, we’ve sold the condo you’d reserved,” the representative said.

“Uh, okay,” I replied, not sure how to respond since the rep’s comment was declarative and not a question.

“So, the condo’s not available anymore,” she replied.

“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” I said, remembering an old boss’s sales rule: Never make your problem the customer’s problem.

I awaited a response from the rep, but heard nothing but silence.

“How about another condo,” I continued.

“They’re all rented. There’s a wedding in town,” she said, apparently forgetting that I was coming to town for the very same wedding.

After an exchange that included an offer of an ancient, two-bedroom, nonair-conditioned cabin (temps had been in the 90s) for me, my wife, our three-year-old son and my in-laws who, in addition to getting up there in age have back and hip problems, I decided that any further discussion was pointless.

So I embarked on a crusade to—in one day—try and find accommodations for the five of us, in or near a northern Wisconsin resort town of 1,500 for a weekend in August. I didn’t like my chances.

That was before I happened to call Bonnie’s Lakeside. Bonnie’s appeared, from its website anyway, to be a quaint little resort on a lake and near the wedding.

I figured Bonnie’s would be booked, but when I made the call, I received something I didn’t expect. Bonnie herself (yes, the resort’s owner answered the call) offered to help me out.

“Give me your number,” she said. “First I’ll call the manager at the Northern Aire and make sure they’re booked. If they are, I’ll see if I can’t find you something.”

Just like that, Bonnie created a lasting impression. In an instant, she put a helpful and human face on her business. She helped build its reputation. Bonnie’s Lakeside was no longer just one of a thousand-or-so resorts up north. It became a place I wanted to go. She was someone I wanted to meet.

Bonnie followed up with me the next morning, giving me a call while we were driving toward the north woods. While I was able to find a place before hearing back from Bonnie, her call put a nice caption on her business’s reputation.

“Well, I’m glad you found a place,” Bonnie said. “Stop and see us sometime when you’re up here.”

Indeed, I will.