As a mobility professional perfecting the delicate art of relocation, you collect a couple of unique skills that help you adapt to an industry forever in flux. Like keen powers of observation that keep you focused on the little details and how they fit into the big picture. And superhuman agility to help you react with urgency when unexpected changes arise. And of course, an innate sense of care and compassion.
These are attributes that we at Weichert value and prioritize. They help us uphold an unparalleled Duty of Care for those we support through major life transitions and earn us industry-leading satisfaction scores year after year.
Nothing is quite as captivating as seeing a mobility pro out in the wild living these traits through everything they do. So, while we deeply regret that an on-site hidden camera didn’t capture the dramatic series of events that unfolded this afternoon in Connecticut, we’re grateful that our VP of Client Services, Dave Dunn, retold this story in such vivid, grip-your-seat detail!
VP Client Services, Dave Dunn
Our team was in Connecticut for a meeting with a client who was out to bid. With such high stakes, we naturally brought in our heavy hitters, including the incredible Krystle-Lynn Stephens, an international counselor on our team who made the trip up from New Jersey. Two of our client contacts joined us for a great partnership lunch at a really nice steakhouse in Danbury, which we deemed our (very) late holiday lunch. After a great meal, we were eager to keep the conversation going, so we invited one of the clients to a drink at the bar before calling it quits for the weekend. He enthusiastically agreed, so Krystle, me, and a few others stayed behind to chat.
Mid-discussion, we heard some commotion behind us, where a small elderly group was having a late lunch in the same bar area. From that group arose a trembling, panicked voice:
“Does anyone know that thing that you do when someone’s choking? Can you help us?”
We all whipped around in our seats to see a lady out of her booth, clearly in discomfort. Her other elderly co-diner hovered behind her, awkwardly hugging her from behind but seemingly unsure of herself.
Krystle and I jumped out of our seats, walking over to stand on either side of the woman. At first, it didn’t seem overtly apparent that she was choking and appeared to be breathing; I guess we’re accustomed to the Hollywood version, hands gripped to the throat, face turning from red to blue.
Krystle gently nudged her to take a sip of water, but as soon as she tried, it just as quickly came spilling out. This was our glaring green light.
With our eyes as big as the plates before us, Krystle and I telepathically exchanged the same message: “Well, what do we do now?!”
“Go for it,” I said to her, my vote of confidence to jump in and get the job done, which she did with awe-inspiring skill.
The other lady moved to the side to make way for Krystle, who positioned her arms around her friend’s waist, delivering eleven abdominal thrusts before the chunk of food spewed out across the bar.
We all stood frozen in shock as the woman expressed her gratitude, thanking Krystle for saving her life…on her birthday of all days!
Once Krystle had stopped shaking, we sat back down at our table to face our client contact. He stared back at us in disbelief, having witnessed a far more dramatic display than he had bargained for on a Friday afternoon in Danbury! “Oh my gosh,” he exclaimed. I have to tell everyone that not only does Weichert provide great service, but they save lives!”
I chuckled back, “Yep, we do it all. Whatever it takes.”
And I meant that.
Cheers to that, Dave!
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