Fight Club recruits get drilled to think, "You are not your job". Jean-Paul Sartre talks about the temptation of becoming your role, being constrained by how society categorises you. But, for my part, I've seldom seen waiters who are still waiters when the guests are gone.
What strikes me is the contrast between the polish and politeness before, and their personalities after. When someone flicks on the room light at the end of the reception, it can be like they're flicking on the staff's personalities as well. The waiters get into intense discussions about sport. They play music. They complain. They talk about upcoming shifts. They banter. They make crass comments about girls. They get told off and yelled at by the venue manager. And, meanwhile, they're moving fast. I'm assuming the sooner they set up for the next event, the sooner they can go home.
It's also amusing for me to see this in reverse. When I arrive at the reception, the DJ might be in shorts. The decorators are probably still decorating. There might be people laying down the dance floor. There's bags and boxes and ladders and cables everywhere. There's a lot of mess generally (a lot of it mine!). And then, an hour later, the doors fling open: candles are lit, bread is on the tables, soft ambient light and music fill the room.
The waiters stand in line to welcome you.
I was once filming a tourism expo in Queensland, hired by the event company. During the day, all the event staff ran around frantically, dressed in high-vis vests and sweat. Then, half an hour before kick-off, they vanish; and the next thing I know they're gliding around the room in sharp dresses and suits, fully switched on and in event host mode. The thought occurred to me, "They're now in their element. The show is what they live for."
A final thought to wrap up. I was at a "haldi" recently, which is part of multi-day Indian weddings. A haldi is often much lower-key than ceremony and reception -- held in someone's backyard or in a community hall; and all the family pitches in to help set up.
A guy approaches me, shakes my hand, smiles. I smile back, but the problem is I meet so many people. "Hi! What was your name again?" I ask.
He tells me. I slowly chew on the information.
"We met two days ago. Don't you remember?"
And then it hits me. "Sorry. You look very different dressed like this."
He laughs.
When I saw him two days ago, he wasn't wearing glasses, and was clad in traditional Indian groom attire, whereas now he's very casually dressed and is moving chairs.
It's not just the vendors -- it's also the couple with a role that they're playing, a transformation that they undergo.
