Me too or I did. Spent 10 days recovering from knee surgery at the Hotel Majestic in Kuala Lumpur. My immobility made that impossible. And then there came Rahma, the handsome Bangladeshi houseboy, to show me how it’s done. He’d effortlessly whip those crisp sheets into submission artfully tuck those pillows into shape then proudly turn to me with his life affirming smile for approval. He’d stop by while going off duty to make sure that the room service tray was picked up and that I had enough water and toiletries for the night. His attention and aura sped up my recovery immeasurably.
As much as I appreciated Rahman’s ministrations, tipping is not a common practice and can be taken as an attempt to bribe. In any event he was not on duty the day I left. About a year later I was checking out of a room after a short stay in a different area of the hotel when I bumped into the houseboy’s cart and who should be servicing the next room but the same Rahman. While we don’t share a common language we greeted each other warmly as old friends which confused the bellhop who’d come to fetch my luggage.