The job of a butler The job of a 21st century butler was underappreciated in society, but in carrying out the role Mr Wainwright found a type of magnificence which contradicted that lack of respect. His ability to be a silent yet highly perceptive presence amongst the upper classes, whilst performing his duties immaculately, was his proof.
He understood why he might be looked down upon by others; servitude wasn’t equated with prestige, unlike other jobs such as surgeon or architect. And society’s general disdain for the very privileged meant those who served them were like slaves to the enemy. He could leave his job at any time, however, and his salary rivalled his prestigious counterparts in the 'outside world'.
What he wasn’t allowed to do was be less than perfect. A butler was the boss of all the other service staff and he hadn’t arrived at the position overnight. The others around him - the valet, the footman, the hall boy - could make small mistakes and seemingly get away with it, that is until the earl took notice and had a word with Mr Wainwright, which he would pass on to them. The admonishment was more like a slap on the wrist, thanks to his kindly nature, however.
The butler had to know what was going to happen before it happened. Anticipation was the top job skill - not something you’re taught at school. It was a life lesson, one most people rarely learn. Even at butler training, this skill would be one you would just have to ‘pick up’. They’d tell you that you need to do this, but it was up to the individual to work out how they’d achieve it. Sacrificing your own needs to attend to the needs of others was a large part of it.
Besides being well paid for his service, there were certain other rewards for being a butler. The workspace was an elegant turn-of-the-century mansion, which Mr Wainwright admired deeply but had grown so accustomed to he took for granted, aside from its upkeep. The endless array of dignitaries that passed through the halls meant experiencing - if only from the sidelines - a slice of society most people would never come across. The butler’s living quarters were well furnished, if meagre in space. But the butler - in fact, all the staff - dined much like the nobility. They partook of the same fine meals that went upstairs, even if they consumed them downstairs. That was what Mr Wainwright savoured the most.
Every bit as delicate as the household procedures was Mr Wainwright’s relationship with the earl. Their exchanges were often friendly, but it was understood that they were not ‘friends’, nor could Mr Wainwright ever wish for that. The lady of the house was technically the person he reported to. Lady Channing was the one who’d elevated him to his exalted position, and who would defend him against any of the earl’s misgivings about his service, of which there were few.
Mr Wainwright had settled on a life of service, disregarding other opportunities, not only because of his rare ability to serve others while remaining largely unseen, but also because of his deep-seated need to be needed himself. Praise, however, was rare in Channing Manor - the perfunctory ‘Thank you, Wainwright’ was as commonplace as afternoon tea. The very promotion from footman to butler had only included the words ‘I’d like you to be our butler’ followed by ‘This is what you will do’. It was years later, when Lady Channing, in a moment of humility, said, ‘I don’t know what I would do without you,’ that Mr Wainwright was reminded of his wise choice. |