Recognising The Unseen Labor Behind Our Comfort

I had stepped into my hotel room before I realised it was just mopped. Dirty stains from my slippers trailed behind. Something wilted in me; I felt like I had just ruined someone else’s job even though the room belonged to me for the few days I would spend there. And it’s their daily job to clean it. Yet, I didn’t feel okay anytime it replayed in my head. Since I got into the hotel room, I made sure I left whatever I used almost how I met it: I re-did my bed every morning; I cleaned the sink after brushing my teeth or performing ablution; I tried as much as possible to dust the under of my slippers so I didn’t carry the sand into the room. I don’t know why but I was putting myself in the hotel attendant’s shoes; although it’s their job, no one derives joy from cleaning other people’s mess.

Some days later, I met the man cleaning my room. I greeted and apologised for the mess I made the other day. He was surprised I apologised. He’s been at the job for over 4 years, no one ever thanked him. He never expected it too because it’s his job but he sometimes gets miffed whenever he meets a room poorly used. “Just yesterday,” he said, “I had to clean the WC because the guest did not flush out.” He can’t complain because if he does, he might lose his job.

I have realised that I try as much as I can not to misuse the room anytime I’m lodged in a hotel. It’s ironic because my own house is a tarpaulin of a mess – clothes spend days unfolded and the laundry basket and I do weekly staring competitions before I empty it. But at hotels, apart from hygienic purposes, I prefer to use my towels so I don’t dirty the ones provided. I return anything I might have removed from its original space. Probably there is a part of me that understands that people who offer these services are humans as well. Yes, they get paid, but money does not replace their feelings and emotions.

We should always take a moment to reflect on the impact of our actions on others, especially those who perform services that are often taken for granted. It’s easy to forget that behind every neatly made bed, spotless floor, or clean towel, there’s a person who worked to make it that way. These individuals often go unnoticed, their efforts invisible unless something is amiss. Yet, their labour is an essential part of our comfort and convenience.

This also reminds me about the issue of how we perceive and value different types of work. Cleaning, for instance, is often seen as low-skilled labour, and those who do it are frequently undervalued. Yet, this work is crucial to maintaining the standards of cleanliness and hygiene that we expect. When we fail to recognise this type of labour, it somewhat translates to dehumanisation, where the people doing the work are seen as less important. This is also a reminder that our simple acts of consideration can make a difference in someone else’s day. Acknowledging the work of others, even with something as small as a “thank you” or an apology, can have a significant impact.

In essence, being mindful of how we use spaces and how we treat the people who maintain them is a small but meaningful way to acknowledge the interconnectedness of our lives. It’s about recognising that every job, no matter how menial it might seem, is valuable and deserves respect. And it’s about understanding that our actions, whether at home, in a hotel, or any shared space, contribute to the well-being of others – not just because it’s polite or considerate, but because it’s a way of showing respect for the people who work behind the scenes. It’s a simple yet powerful way to create a more respectful and empathetic society, where everyone’s contributions are recognised and valued.

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