In early 2018, I was in Chennai for a client visit and a short training program. It was one of those trips that looked neat on paper. Flights booked. Stay arranged. Schedule packed. Everything sorted.
At least, that’s what I thought.
I was put up in a service apartment close to the office. It felt like a sensible choice. More space than a hotel. A kitchen I didn’t use. Meals were made in the common kitchen and served upstairs in the apartment, or you could have it in the dining room. A sense of routine, even when you’re away from home. The apartment had a common washing machine, which sounded reassuring. I packed light weight shirts, trousers and salwar suits, assuming I could manage laundry easily.
Little did I know that the washing machine didn’t work.
Not temporarily. Not “we’ll fix it tomorrow.” It just didn’t work.
After a long day of training sessions and client meetings, I found myself standing in the bathroom, staring at a bucket. I soaked my clothes before leaving for the office, scrubbed them by hand at night, and tried to convince myself that this was fine. That it was just one of those things. That I could manage.
Eventually, I hired one of the cleaning staff to wash my clothes. It felt awkward. Not because they were unwilling, but because it wasn’t what I had signed up for. I wasn’t looking for a favor. I just wanted a working washing machine.
The clothes came back clean enough. But then came the next problem. The cotton clothes needed to be starched and ironed to remove the wrinkles.
There was no iron wala nearby.
No corner shop. No roadside ironing setup. Nothing within walking distance. I asked around and was told I could borrow an iron box from one of the residents. So I did. I stood in the apartment, pressing my own clothes, hoping I wouldn’t burn a shirt I needed the next morning.
None of this was dramatic. Nothing went terribly wrong. And yet, the experience stayed with me.
Because travel discomforts are rarely about big failures. They’re about small frictions. The kind you don’t plan for. The kind that slowly chip away at your energy. Washing clothes in a bucket after a full workday. Borrowing an iron from a stranger. Feeling mildly frustrated but telling yourself to “adjust.”
At the time, I didn’t have a name for what bothered me. I just knew I was unhappy with the whole thing. Not angry. Just tired.
Looking back, I realize how much we normalize inconvenience, especially when we’re away from home. We accept broken systems because they’re “temporary.” We solve problems ourselves because it feels easier than complaining. We move on.
But these small moments matter. They shape how we experience a place. How rested or drained we feel. How much mental space we have for the work we’re actually there to do.
That Chennai trip taught me something simple. Comfort isn’t about luxury. It’s about things working the way they’re supposed to. Clean clothes without negotiation. Pressed clothes without favors. Systems that don’t make you improvise at the end of a long day.
I didn’t write about this experience back then. It felt too ordinary. Too small.
But years later, it stands out. Not because it was difficult, but because it wouldn’t happen the same way today.
Now, laundry services are available at your fingertips. A few taps on your phone, and someone picks up your clothes, cleans them properly, irons them, and sends them back. No buckets. No borrowed irons. No awkward workarounds at the end of a long day.
It’s easy to take that convenience for granted. But when I think back to that Chennai trip, I realize how much these small services quietly change how we travel, work, and rest.
We may not remember every meeting we attend.
But we surely remember the nights we stood in bathrooms with a bucket, wishing things were just a little easier.