We were just finishing a long, lazy lunch in our villa’s open-air dining area. The sky was blue, the air was blissfully warm, and frangipani blossoms drifted slowly down into the pool.
There was a knock at the front gate, and two of the housekeeping staff came in to service the villa. As they started washing up the lunch dishes, another woman arrived to collect the laundry, followed by a couple of gardeners.
By now most of us were in a state of dozy bliss, looking forward to a peaceful afternoon of siestas, massages, or just lying around in the shade. But M wasn’t entirely happy. She’d mentioned before that she just couldn’t get used to being ‘waited on hand and foot’.
I bit back something sharpish, and tried for a lighthearted note: none of us were used to it, I said, that was the joy of being on a relaxing holiday in a beautiful tropical resort — someone else does the cleaning up.
But M was still uneasy. Yes, they were all working quietly and unobtrusively — but they were there, five whole people, scattered around the villa and the garden. It just didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel right.
I suspect many Western visitors would have agreed with her. So I drew a deep breath, counted to ten, and tried to explain.
Let’s take a minute here to connect the dots. First, in this part of the world, most people’s monthly pay amounts to what we spent on dinner last night, and upward mobility isn’t even a concept. If you’re born into an affluent and privileged family you can assume you’ll get a good education, and eventually a good job (which may or may not involve any actual work).
And if not, not.
This means that when good hotels and resorts are looking for staff, they have their pick of the best and brightest from poorer backgrounds: kids who are smart, hard-working and motivated. The young men and women who deliver your breakfast or make your bed or fix your pool are enormously proud to be working here. In time, they may be head driver or chief engineer, or guest service representative, or chef. Meanwhile, they’re well-trained, fairly paid and very loyal — many of the staff have worked here for 10 years or more, even though other resorts constantly try to poach them.
Of course this isn’t the case everywhere. (But wherever you’re staying, it’s not hard to tell whether the employees are genuinely happy. You don’t need to know the language — just use your eyes and ears. If they’re not, your stay will be less pleasant.)
So bear in mind — these people know their mission is to make sure you enjoy your time here. Instead of ignoring them because they make you uncomfortable, do the gracious thing, the generous thing: smile and say thank you. Make it clear that you’re having a wonderful time, and that you appreciate their efforts. That’s how they know they’re doing a good job.
And, of course, we leave a generous tip at the end of our stay.
(Note: This particular resort also uses a “tranche” system: the tips guests leave in an envelope on departure are scrupulously divided amongst the entire staff. It would be practically impossible — and a huge hassle — to tip everyone you come into contact with each day: housekeeping, room service, drivers, etc. And you’d still miss the invisible army of cooks, laundresses, maintenance staff, switchboard operators, security guards, etc. This way everyone gets a fair share. Not many places do it, but it’s worth asking whether the resort or hotel you’re staying at has a similar system.)