I learned serving first class — and why the quietest passenger in the cabin understood luxury better than anyone.
You can’t buy class.
There are moments when servicing first class — quiet moments — when the passenger didn’t care about the menu or the entertainment device on board.
The quiet HNWI. Maybe a CEO of a multimillion dollar corporation. Maybe a self-made serial entrepreneur. Sleeping. Reading. Or maybe just indulging in the simplest meal on board.
Then came the routes full of royal dignitaries — their entourage filling up first and business class.
I could see the stark contrast.
Not patronising. Just observing something obvious.
Class.
Not the words “first class” printed on the ticket. But the deportment one carries.
In marketing and consumer culture — being the loudest is the goal. Big bold shiny logos slapped across handbags. Colonising every corner of your attention.
But at the other end of the spectrum — there are spaces moving away from the noise. Hidden but looked after. Isolated but yearned for. Mundane on the surface but rich in texture and feeling.
In the luxury world — being quiet is the ultimate luxury.
The Felda boy serving lobster at 35,000 feet didn’t understand this at first.
I would have devoured everything. Because that’s what you do when abundance meets scarcity for the first time — you consume it completely. You make sure you got your money’s worth.
But the regular first class passenger — the one who had been here a hundred times — ordered water. Read his book. Slept.
He wasn’t enjoying it less.
He was the class in the room.
And no ticket price put it there.
P.S. At Majalah BIKIN, I write about human experience, UX, and business psychology — drawn from 30 years across airlines, banking, design, and the field. Read more and follow along.