Hard Truths: I Am Not Okay! Speaking Out Against the Service Industry

“How do you feel today? Is everything going well? Is there anything I can help with?”
“NO! I am not OKAY!”

When Pansy, the housewife who is irrationally angry throughout the entire film “Hard Truths”, lashes out at the smiling sales assistant in a furniture store, I, for once, found myself empathizing with Pansy. I exhaled a long breath, thankful that this irritable woman expressed the anger I dared not show in public—anger towards the Western service industry. 

Of course, I also understand that the salesgirl in the film is absolutely innocent. She was brought to tears by Pansy's yelling and complained, "This is my job; I just want to do it well."

So, why would service workers, who just want to do their jobs well, provoke the dissatisfaction of people like Pansy and me? The reasons for the film character’s frustration and mine aren’t exactly the same.

In the film’s story, Pansy, played by British black actress Marianne Jean-Baptiste, can be considered a desperate housewife. She spends every day in a monotonously decorated home, cleaning and cooking for her silent husband and her son, a homebody who only loves reading aviation magazines. At the dinner table, she constantly mocks and criticizes them both. She laments that she is like a kangaroo, always carrying two useless men. Unsurprisingly, under the oppressive atmosphere created by the matriarch, her husband and son become even more withdrawn and cowardly.

But kangaroos are also fierce boxers, prone to anger and provocation. When Pansy goes out, within the span of just one day, she irrationally hurls insults at the furniture store clerk, the supermarket cashier, the man who fought her for a parking space, and her sister, who does her hair, all in high-pitched, offensive language.

"I've been harassed by people all day, I'm sick to death of it." While she lashes out and hurts both strangers and those close to her, Pansy also feels deeply wounded herself.

“Why are you so angry? Why can’t you enjoy your life?” her well-meaning sister asks.

“I don’t know.” Pansy is just as powerless in the face of her own irritability.

This is director Mike Leigh’s second collaboration with Marianne Jean-Baptiste since “Secrets & Lies” in 1996, the film that earned Marianne nominations for both a Golden Globe and an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Mike Leigh’s usual approach as a writer-director is to avoid explaining the full story to his actors. Instead, he provides only a rough sketch of the characters and then asks the actors to find the story themselves through their own experiences. One can only wonder whether Marianne had to go around being angry in real life, picking fights here and there, to fully immerse herself in portraying a desperate, angry housewife from suburban London.

Due to different experiences and emotional backgrounds, each audience member’s level of empathy with such a constantly raging character varies greatly. Perhaps the one universal moment comes when Pansy returns to her bedroom and lies on the bed after a day full of being angry and her husband tiptoes in and nervously asks, "What’s for dinner tonight?" Pansy snaps again, "Go cook by yourself!" At least during the premiere of this film at the San Sebastian Film Festival, this scene brought the only round of applause from the audience. Yes, how can two grown men constantly hide in the kangaroo’s pouch?. But it’s also the kangaroo’s anger that has stripped them of the courage to stand up and take care of themselves.

Most of the time, I find Pansy, with all her incessant yelling extremely annoying. But, as I mentioned at the beginning, the scene where she lashes out at the innocent furniture store clerk gave me a oddly satisfying sense of catharsis. Why is that?

Because I’m utterly fed up with the Western service industry! Especially the restaurant industry!

The concern shown by the furniture store clerk—"How do you feel today? Everything is fine? Is there anything I can help with?"—is something you hear even more frequently from restaurant waitstaff. After taking your order and delivering your food slowly, they’ll periodically interrupt your engaging conversation with friends to ask, with fake warmth, "Everything is good? How is the taste of the food?"

If this scenario takes place in North America, it’s undoubtedly in anticipation of a hefty tip after the meal. If it’s in Europe, Australia, or Latin America, it’s what I consider needless "over-service." Perhaps it’s because I’m from fast-paced, efficient modern Asia, where dining scenes usually go like this: you walk in, sit down, scan a QR code to order, and the super-efficient waitstaff—without any small talk—deliver your food within minutes. No one interrupts your solo phone browsing or your chat with friends, and when you’re done, you pay via QR code and leave without worrying about the evil tipping.

I can’t fathom why the profession of “sommelier,” which seems straight out of a feudal royal court, still exists today. Is it to maintain the fancy ambiance of so-called slow-food culture? Please, I have my hands, it’s not like I’m incapable of pouring my own drink! When a friend confides in me or shares their feelings, the last thing I want is to be interrupted by your wine-pouring or are you eavesdropping under the guise of "serving." Think of that classic scene in “The Godfather” when the soon-to-be boss, Michael Corleone, goes to the Italian restaurant to negotiate with the corrupt cop and the mob leader. If the sommelier hadn’t been serving them, the shootout and escape to Sicily Corleone would already have shot them dead and escaped to Sicily.

That said, the next time I walk into a restaurant and the server asks, "How do you feel today? Everything is fine?" I know I’ll still force a polite smile, rather than snapping back like Pansy:

“I am not OKAY!”