You covered the ocean-view luxury, the room service, and the breathtaking scenery, but you still don’t belong at the table. My man and I enjoy a rich, decadent meal, savoring every bite while you sit there silent and excluded. You don’t get a chair—though I do allow you the scraps, after I’ve ground them under my dirty feet. That’s your role: financing our pleasure and begging for leftovers. Stay focused. This is what true service looks like.