My 4 star life

I work at a four-star business hotel located in the financial center of our city. Our 280 “well-appointed” guestrooms (as our brochure calls them) cater to the business traveler, some of whom are China’s most wealthy and influential businessmen. The hotel has 5 restaurants which include a western buffet, a steakhouse with beef imported from Australia, a Japanese restaurant and 2 Chinese restaurants. There’s a swimming pool, gym, sauna center, tennis court, and other recreation activities.

It’s a classy place. Because I work there, I spend a large portion of my time there. I am the only foreign employee of the hotel, which has a staff of somewhere near 600. Also because I am the only foreigner, I have all kinds of privileges none of the other staff have. I can eat my meals in the hotel restaurants if I choose. I can use the recreation facilities. I could actually live at the hotel if I wanted. I don’t so instead they pay my rent.

A few of the job qualifications included being “under 30 and Western-looking.” Not to mention that I had to include a full length photo so the hotel could make sure I was physically attractive enough to stand around in their lobby. (Apparently, they are NOT an equal opportunity employer :)).

Western-looking. Even before I accepted this position and decided to come, I felt like an issue I had to work through for myself was if I was perpetuating “white privilege” or in this case “western privilege” by taking this job. I wasn’t sure at that point what the details of the disparity between myself and my coworkers would be. I knew I would be paid more and work less, but I also knew I can’t live in China for what a Chinese person makes. I also knew this job would enable me to live here and do other things that I want to do, like research and writing and such. I talked to a good friend who is knowledgeable on the white privilege issue and he agreed that it was a good opportunity and encouraged me with the fact that I would not be using my position to exploit or endanger others. So I thought I had worked through it and made the decision to come.

I’m still glad to be here and I still think it’s a good opportunity, but I am also confronted daily by the inequality. Everyday, I work an hour and a half less than my coworkers. I have more days off. I get paid more than one of my supervisors. I make almost 3 times what my Concierge staff friends make. I probably do less actual work. Why? Because I am “western-looking.”

When my contract is up in August, a world (literally) of options awaits me. I have options. Because English is my native language, I can find many jobs like this one in a number of countries. I could teach English or serve in some similar role as I am doing now. I can return to the States and find a job with relative ease because I have a college degree and some decent work experience. I can go to grad school. I don’t say any of these things to be prideful, but to point out that I have numerous options. At most points of decision in my life, I have actually been overwhelmed with options, not a lack thereof.

I remember a conversation I had with my supervisor at Catholic Charities who pointed out to me that the stress of having to choose between multiple options is a kind of stress, but wasn’t an issue until society became “developed” and a larger middle class formed. The stress of having no options is very different and was (and still is) experienced by the poor.

As I hang out and talk with my concierge friends, I’ve asked most of them if they like their job. Most of them do not. One of them said, “I don’t like it at all. But, my family’s economic situation is not good, so they couldn’t afford to send me a good school so that I could go to a good college. All I will able to do with my life is carry other people’s luggage.”

I haven’t talked to very many of the staff in any department who like their job. (Actually, the ones I can think of who do say they like their job are upper level managers). Most of them feel like it is their only option. A girl who works at the front desk told me just a few days ago that she doesn’t like working at the hotel but because her degree is in business English this is the only kind of job she can get without a master’s degree.

I don’t have any of the statistics on hand, but I read an article just the other day about the number of college graduates who can’t find work here. I was talking with a taxi driver a couple months back who was asking about my job. He said, “Our own university graduates can’t find jobs even if they’ve studied English well. If more of you native speakers start coming over and getting jobs, they’re going to be even more out of luck.” This was the first time I had been confronted with the reality that my being here in some ways does actually negatively affect others. I try to justify it by saying that my job actually requested a foreigner so I’m not taking their job, but the principle of foreigners coming to take jobs does impact the locals who are competing heavily for a small number of available jobs.

Another truth I have had to face is that I am indeed wealthy. Not by any US standard of course…I don’t own a home in the suburbs or a vehicle of any kind. I don’t have any sort of investments or a huge savings account. By the standard of wealth based on material consumption in my home country, I am not wealthy. Here, I am. I have options. As I said, I make about 3 times what an average worker here makes. I don’t ever worry where my next meal comes from and I have some expendable income each month. I live in a much-more-than-adequate shelter with running hot water, heat, electricity, and many other amenities. I am indeed the “Rich American” regardless of my negative feelings about this stereotype.

One of my first weeks here one the concierge staff told me I live their dream life. Because I have options, I can choose my career, I’ve traveled abroad, and I am not stuck in a job I don’t enjoy. I live a dream life.

Multiple times that I’ve had friends over and they look through my photo albums they’ve said, “These pictures don’t even look like real photographs to me. They look just like the movies.” Or “these look like postcards because they don’t even seem like real life to me.” I’m never sure how to respond because the photos are actual photos from my actual life. My real life is a romance movie most of my coworkers only dream about.

I don’t really know what to do with any of this. It humbles me. It brings me to an awareness of my pride in the sense that I am undeserving and did nothing to “earn” the life I was given. It gives rise to a spirit of gratitude for the next time I’m in the “what’s next” decision process instead of the usual fear, struggle, and frustration. It spurs me to be more generous. It strips away complaint. It makes me truly thankful for His provision for me. It compels me to live fully, embracing and enjoying my four star life.