Service

The service industry is huge out here. If there’s some simple task you need to do, you can bet there will be four Indian men with neatly trimmed mustaches ready to do it for you. Need to open a door? They’ll take care of it. Need someone to guard an ATM? They’ve got it covered. Want to buy a shirt? Rest assured, a handful of workers will make sure you see every one available…even if the first one was fine.

It’s nice when people do things for you, especially if that’s their job. But with each task someone is assigned to, that’s one less thing you can do yourself. And I’d rather do things myself. I have no problem picking out a shirt or opening a door.

Don’t get me wrong – there are some aspects that I like. I live at the Melange, a serviced apartment (like a hotel) where they wash and fold my laundry. And wash my dishes every day. And clean my studio apartment and make my bed (too tightly). But I don’t need them to do all this. I would not die if I came home to a messy room. My world would not crumble if a dirty dish was left in the sink.

Unlike back in the states, I don’t enjoy many of those wonderful do-nothing, never-leave-the-house days. I feel I should be out as much as possible since I have no idea when/if I’ll ever be back again. But there have been a few days where I just wanted to just veg out, to only move the distance between the bed and the refrigerator (and later, the bed and the bathroom). As I do every time I’m in the apartment, I’ll leave the “do not disturb” sign on the doorknob. In the early afternoon, I’ll get a phone call from the cleaning staff. “Good afternoon, sir. What time would you like us to clean the room, sir?” A few time I’ve said that it’s fine, I don’t need the room cleaned that day. In the worker’s response, I can hear the faintest hint of sadness in his voice, of disappointment in his tone. And I feel guilty.

And what happens when a service employee isn’t doing his job? Most nice stores have a doorman to open the door for you. And I want to let him do it – it’s what he’s paid for. But sometimes the doorman isn’t paying attention. Do I wait a moment for him to notice me, then let me in? Do I open the door halfway, hoping the movement is spotted by his peripheral vision so that he’ll open it the rest of the way? Do I just open the door myself and go in, possibly making him feel he’s not doing his job properly? Too many options – and all I want is to go inside.

I’ve accepted having a driver, even if I’ve never gotten totally comfortable with it. It is nice not having to deal with the challenging driving conditions out here – countless motorcycles, insane drivers jockeying for position, occasional slowdowns caused by random cows wandering into the street. And being in the backseat, I can write and stay productive with my time.

But I feel embarrassed when (about a third of the time), Thankachen will see me approach the car and he’ll run around it, rushing to open the door for me. Especially when he does it in public. I’m not someone special, I need no such special treatment.

I also miss the control of being able to drive myself places. Of not having to arrange transportation ahead of time. If I want to go somewhere on the weekend, it’s polite to give Thankachen some advance notice, so he can plan his own schedule accordingly. But I don’t always plan my weekends. I’d rather just do what I feel like it, go where the day takes me (to speak in clichés).

That’s why I walk as much as possible. With walking, I don’t have to rely on anyone but myself and my feet and my comfortable shoes. It’s independent. Nobody is leading me anywhere, I can go any direction I want and I don’t have to stop if I don’t want to. I just hope that wherever I end up, the doorman is paying attention when I walk to the door.