I like to tell real-life stories, even in columns that address universal themes, because that’s where the true pulse of human experience lies. That’s where we find meaning — and, more often than not, a mirror. The resonance of my encounters, and those of people I meet along the way, is what keeps my writing rooted in authenticity.
Perhaps it helps readers navigate the maze of my reflections and opinions, too. So here’s a tiny but poignant tale from my travel diary, penned during recent wanderings. It was the morning after we checked into a snazzy hotel in Chicago for a family weekend getaway. The room bell buzzed, and I opened the door to be greeted by Elsa (name changed), her smile, warm but weighed down by the burden of a baby soon to be born.
I glanced at the badge pinned to her apron and asked, “How’s the baby, Elsa?” “Making me very, very tired,” she said, gently cradling her bump. In her third trimester, Elsa, a housekeeping staff member, was a living embodiment of “service with a smile.”
Her job demanded it. She had no choice but to set aside her discomfort and ask each guest, “Do you need anything?” Elsa might have longed for a break that morning; she might have wished someone would ask her that same question — “Do you need anything?” But life’s intransigence doesn’t offer her that luxury. She had to carry on with the weariness she bore, because anything less might reflect poorly in her work report. She had a job to do, and she must do it — with a smile. Always. I wanted to hug her, just to let her know I saw her, that I felt her.
But I stepped back. There are protocols, unspoken boundaries about how much one can reach out. It’s hard to know what’s okay and not okay in the context of etiquette — both in personal and professional spaces. Cut to a cruise ship a few days later.
A world unto itself — a floating paradise turning the mundane into the sublime for the guests onboard. Surrounded by men and women waiting to tend to your every whim, you begin to wonder: where do they summon these smiles from? How do they keep their courtesies crisp through endless hours of duty?
Pressed by long shifts and the demand to deliver faultless service — because even a minor guest complaint could spiral into a workplace disaster — they were, each of them, Elsa’s photocopies.
Scratch the surface, and you’ll see: beneath those cheerful overtures lie waves of woes, quietly brimming, carefully concealed. It’s a pattern that repeats itself across the hospitality and entertainment industries — actors, singers, dancers, on land, at sea, and in the sky. Men and women whose job it is to make others feel cared for, indulged, and entertained must present their best selves — even when they’re quietly aching inside. Their pains don’t get time off. Their worries don’t come with mute buttons. Yet they show up — smiling, bowing, anticipating our needs, and never letting the mask slip.
Because in these industries, emotional neutrality — or rather, perpetual pleasantness — is part of the job description. Not only are they required to serve, but they must also do so with joy. As if the theatre of happiness must never be interrupted by the ordinary struggles of being human.
I leave you with two lingering allusions that echo the heart of this reflection.” Kehta hai joker saara zamaana” — where the world laughs, while the joker bleeds behind his painted grin. And “Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho” — a line that questions the smile worn to hide what trembles beneath.
Not every smile is a sign of happiness. Sometimes, it’s a mask worn out of duty. Sometimes, it’s a quiet plea not to be seen too closely. And so, the next time someone serves you with a smile, remember — it may be their job, but it might also be their armour.
(The author is a columnist and independent journalist based in Dubai. The views expressed are personal)
