To the Ritz

Saying, "I work at the Ritz Carlton" is like saying, "I"m from California." Everyone knows something about it and is happy to pigeonhole you, especially if it means you're one of them.
An Italian conversation:
"Where are you from?"
"Idaho."
"No, no. Where you come from?"
"Idaho."
"Where are you from?"
"Idaho."
"No, no, I no say right. I am Italian. You are?"
"American."
"But where?"
"Idaho."
Exasperated sigh.
"I'm from a small place near Venice. You?"
I debated saying, "the state of Idaho," but sighed into a meek, "California."
"CALIFORNIA? Hollywood!"
Well, no.

Same thing.
"I work at the Ritz."
Response A comes in a whisper: "OHHHHhhhh, the RITZ!"
Response B replaces "I" with "you;" "awe" with "awe, I just stepped in THAT?"

Here's what recent experience and reflection on long experience has unearthed: the egotism of the underdog.
If I say that I burn up all my energy at an independent bookstore in the morning, a Chinese restaurant in the afternoon, and a fine dining restaurant in the evening, people have a universal 'whoa' factor.
If I burn up equal amounts of energy in a 9, as opposed to 13, hour shift at the Ritz, it is assumed that I am a pampered and privileged individual who lives in sheer physical luxury.
Reality: in my position at the Ritz, I am always on point. I am always visible and accountable. I do not have a back counter around which I slouch and vent and commiserate. I do not have heart of house sanctuary. I live in the front, always under scrutiny, always running.
And I love it.
But saying "I work at the Ritz" is like saying, "My zip code is 90210," and it is automatically assumed that I am incapable of sustaining myself.

I find the same bias in myself: a bank exec complains about a rough day of work, a loan shark, any other sort of paperwork-based job, and I think, "yeah, so? I spent the day running--physically running--around a mouse cage, pandering to the whims of the uber wealthy." No matter that my mouse cage is physically beautiful, and I love each twist and turn, it's a mouse cage. I'm running. And my running is at the whims of the uppermost class. Therefore I am superior to someone who wracks his/her brain for the best option for someone who has based his/her future on the decision.
And yes, in this case, I am reading myself into the equation. Nevermind that 100% of the calls I've heard from bankers have been about how easy it was to fleece a customer who fit the description of "another [demographic]."

Here's the weird thing: working full time at the Ritz is harder than working full-and-a-half time in independent businesses. I've been through manual labor, and it is exponentially easier than the scrutiny surrounding half the time in the Ritz. But a lumberjack, a member of the great American demographic that keeps diners thriving at the expense of salaries, would look down on such a scornfully luxurious employer, and that demographic would bring a good portion of the American public.
What matters is that the Ritz and its customers constitute a soft demographic unaccustomed to nobility past the accident of birth.
Yet here I am, the guy who went to the college with the best loan package, the guy who's always held an entry-level job, the guy without half the security of a cattle ranch, and I am scorned for I've figured out how to work my mind more than my body, to think through a ballet of unchoreographed moves, and I am soft because I gyrate at the whims of those wealthy enough to have the privilege of tipping those of us who have ground our teeth down enough to earn entry into a livable situation.

I'm still disquieted by the hypocrisy. I look down at people whose living depends on others investing, or maybe entrusting, blindly. A lawyer is one thing--a matter of individual inclination. But someone on Wall Street or a bank office seems much more morally ambiguous; an individual has no control over the use (or misuse) of funds, and there is a darn good chance that no matter what happens to the investor's money, the manager will make some serious money. At least you can fire a lawyer.
And here I am, making my living on the expected gratuity of people who have little choice or say in falling into my section of the restaurant.
For the same reasons I resent big profits made by people wrangling electronic messages pertaining to unwitting investors' money and livelihoods, a farmer resents me for doing nothing but run a plate from the cook to the table.

But here's the thing: my job is to make sure people have a good time, and the only times they don't almost invariably have to do with their own reluctance to enjoy a given experience. The Ritz Carlton has a history, reputation, and following that draws a demographic willing to pay for a certain level of service. So when I associate with that demographic, it is assumed that I am one of them, and that assumption pigeonholes me in a disparate identity, and it completely overlooks my opinions of the overarching process.