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the task of doing important work, even when it isn't easy.

Emotional labor is difficult and easy to avoid. But when we avoid it, we don't do much

worth seeking out. Showing up unwilling to do emotional labor is a short-term strategy

now, because over time, organizations won't pay extra for someone who merely does the

easy stuff.

We're not at all surprised when a craftsman sharpens his saw or an athlete trains hard. But

when an information worker develops her skills at confronting fear (whether it's in

making connections, speaking, inventing, selling, or dealing with difficult situations) we

roll our eyes.

It turns out that digging into the difficult work of emotional labor is exactly what we're

expected (and needed) to do. Work is nothing but a platform for art and the emotional

labor that goes with it.

Volunteering to Do Emotional Labor

"Cellphonesandpagersmustremainoffduringtheentireflighttheflightattendantsaregoingtobe

gintheirinflight . . ." The flight attendant read the script as fast as she possibly could. She

had read it a thousand times before and she was going to read it a thousand more times.

And she knew that not one passenger was going to listen to her.

In her frustration, she followed the rules, but barely. She read the script. But she didn't do

the emotional labor that would have made her hard to replace.

When her airline loses even more money, when they replace the script with an audio

recording, when they break the union and refuse to pay high wages to employees who

don't add any value--well, she'll be even more frustrated then.

The opportunity doesn't necessarily feel like an opportunity. Volunteering to do

emotional labor--even when you don't feel like it, and especially when you're not paid

extra for it--is a difficult choice. My first argument, though, is that you are paid for it. In

fact, in most jobs that involve a customer, that's all you are getting paid for.

For years, people chose to fly on JetBlue for two reasons. First, it was reasonably priced.

And second, the flight attendants were terrific. Along with the pilots, the young and

motivated staff worked as hard as they could to make the flight more fun. Notice that I

said "as hard as they could." No doubt it wasn't easy to put on this show six times a day;

no doubt there were times the staff would have preferred to have a map, a manual, an

instruction guide on how to be pleasant and personable and memorable. But Amy CurtisMcIntyre, who developed JetBlue's shtick, refused to give them one. (And if she had

wanted to, it's unlikely she could have.) Instead, she hired friendly people and motivated

them to perform emotional labor.

The result? An asset was built, a brand was born, profits were made, and the airline grew.

Now, JetBlue has to choose: should they cut corners and be difficult with the very flight

attendants who are a key marketing element of their success? Or should they embrace the

fact that one of the linchpins of the airline is a motivated and connected staff that rewards

passengers for choosing the airline?

The Gift of Emotional Labor

"The gift is to the giver, and comes back to him . . ."

--Walt Whitman

When you do emotional labor, you benefit.

Not just the company, not just your boss, but you.

The act of giving someone a smile, of connecting to a human, of taking initiative, of

being surprising, of being creative, of putting on a show--these are things that we do for

free all our lives. And then we get to work and we expect to merely do what we're told

and get paid for it.

This gulf creates tension. If you reserve your emotional labor for when you are off duty,

but you work all the time, you are deprived of the joy you get when you do this labor.

Now, you're not giving gifts on duty, but you're not off duty much at all. Spend eight or

ten or twelve hours a day at work (not only in the office, but online or on the phone or in

your dreams), and there's not a lot of