Housekeeping Has A Name

The health club that I go to is one of the most modish gymnasiums in suburban Mumbai. It boasts of an illustrious clientele (I don’t include myself in it!) of pot-bellied industrialists, toned and botox-ed film stars, and a bunch of twenty-something rich dandies and dudettes. In a stark paradox, you also get to see a handful of housekeepers there, dressed in staid uniforms nearly ready to tear at the seams.
The housekeepers stand at various corners of the gym, looking around curiously, and sometimes aimlessly at the machines and the jazz-exuding spin studios which they will probably never use. They hold a Colin spray or the like in one hand, and a damp towel in the other. When the big sahibs and the memsahibs finish their routine on the treadmill, they rush to the machine and dutifully wipe the sweat off every corner before the next fitness enthusiast hops on to it and trots away to a five hundred calorie burnout.
Occasionally, when he misses a droplet or two, an irate customer calls out ‘Housekeeping’ with all of a hand gesture or a curt clap. Or worse, that ever irritating snap of the finger.
Come on, people! The guy’s got a name. It’s no more than a second’s effort to know his real name, but it might work wonders for his self-esteem. Let alone the self-esteem, I think that is the least bit of recognition he deserves. Rationally speaking, the demand-popularity ratio is severely skewed for the poor chap. Everyone seems to need his attention at the same time, either for cleaning a treadmill or for getting their bottle filled at the water cooler. But surprisingly, nobody considers it necessary to know his name.
I’m not sure if I sound too cynical making a fuss of the whole thing. But I did give it a thought. If I walked into my client’s office and someone snapped his finger at me saying, “Over here, consultant,”, I would not possibly take to it too kindly. Would I? Or would you?
For those who are unaware, or have simply not bothered to be aware: you know that shiny thing on the housekeeper’s tattered shirt pocket? That is a name plate that bears his name in fine print. Next time, do consider walking up to him and reading the name. It doesn’t matter then, if you return to your original position and call him by his name.
Do not take that unassuming smile for granted. It comes at a price too. ‘Housekeeping’ has a name.