Among the many unforgettable moments that transpired in Mike White’s latest series, The White Lotus, the character of Armond (Murray Bartlett) himself is possibly the most memorable element of all. Tellingly, Armond has no last name that we know of—nor do any of the staff members, including Kai (Kekoa Scott Kekumano), Dillon (Lukas Gage), Hutch (Alec Merlino), Christie (Christie Volkmer), Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) or the short-lived Lani (Jolene Purdy). This lack of half their name ever being known speaks to the invisible identity Murray seeks to cultivate for what he calls “tropical kabuki.” Disappearing into the “mask” of being an “interchangeable” servant to these rich white folk.
Out of everyone, however, Murray might have it worse than any of his staff members despite not being relegated to “grunt work” (if you don’t count the late-night rimming of Dillon’s ass). For he has to adhere to his own admission, “They exploit me, I exploit you.” The “They” in this instance applying to any corporate juggernaut with the capital to allure people like Murray into the trap of believing they’re getting compensated “somewhat” “adequately.” But it doesn’t take long to find out that the pay grade definitely doesn’t match the degradation grade. And Murray knows all too well about eating shit—hence, his perpetual shit-eating grin. It’s no wonder he developed a drug habit that he now requires turning back to at a particularly vulnerable moment. And it all starts when Lani, his trainee, reveals that she’s been in labor all day, yet working through the pain in order to not risk losing the job she only just started.
In the middle of Murray going through the motions of scuttling from table to table at the dinner to make sure everyone is satisfied, Dillon interrupts and takes him aside to announce, “Lani’s in your office, having a baby.” “What? Who’s Lani?” Armond snaps back, revealing how, at times, managers can be just as blind to the “little person” as upper management is to middle.
The “bit” shows up again in the second episode when Belinda asks Armond, “What’s going on? How’s Lani?” “Who’s Lani?” Armond responds dazedly. Belinda arches her brow and nudges, “The trainee who had a baby in your office.” Armond, seeming to be jolted back to reality, replies, “Oh yeah, she’s um, she’s at the hospital. I think she’s okay.” Belinda then inquires, “Are you okay?” He sighs, explaining, “I was criticizing her all day and she was in fucking labor. Last night, I wanted a drink so fucking bad.” That need for a drink to take the edge off stems from coming to terms with how gross he feels as a human being for enforcing the bullshit policies of the corporation that pays for his life, slowly becoming “one of Them” without even the small consolation of Their salary level. He asks Belinda, as though she’s his confessor, “What if I just can’t fucking do this anymore?” Oh, but he will. Until the bitter end. For that is what we all must do to keep “surviving.” Though Henry David Thoreau certainly wouldn’t call it “living.”
With Shane Patton (Jake Lacy), a privileged white male guest, incessantly on him about fucking up the room they booked, Armond’s stress levels are running particularly high. Even Shane’s new wife, Rachel (Alexandra Daddario), is stressed because of his comportment, and she’s got her own existential crisis to worry about. Still, even if she was trying harder to enjoy her honeymoon, it would be ruined by Shane’s constant obsession over Armond’s wrongdoings—yet another hazard of middle management being “the face” of an institution. At one point, while Rachel is trying to read, Shane returns to his chaise lounge and announces of Armond, “He’s a fuckin’ liar. The fuckin’ dude at the fuckin’ front desk.” Shane tells Rachel this as he continues to fixate on the Pineapple Suite that another honeymoon couple has gained access to despite Shane’s mother being the one to book and pay for it. While some might have “let it go,” Shane only seems to want the suite all the more precisely because it’s been denied to him. And because he knows the Pineapple Suite costs more, which his mother ponied up the dough for. Yes, Mommy pays all the bills, it seems. When he confronts Armond about it, already in a delicate state because of Lani, Armond grits his teeth as he smiles politely at Shane and says, “I assure you, your mother is only paying the rate for your current room.”
Shane remains unsatisfied, continuing to press the issue, to want Armond to eat more shit. So he persists, “You guys made a mistake. Just own up to your mistake, that’s all I’m asking.” “Well if there’s been a mistake, I do apologize. I’m so very sorry,” Armond assures, his disingenuous smile matching Shane’s as he says it. Shane, pretending to be placated, still continues, “Mistakes happen, you know. I’m just on my honeymoon, you know, and, uh, it’s just not the kind of trip where you wanna be impacted negatively. By someone else’s mistake… So I guess I’m just wondering what you might be able to do for us to make us feel better about the whole situation.” The pressures of his middle management role increasingly appear to become more trouble than they’re worth—both emotionally and financially. Particularly with the kind of customers that seem to be the norm no matter what their socioeconomic class: entitled cunts from all walks of life are convinced they deserve “more.” But Armond only has so much more obsequiousness to dole out.
Some part of him clearly wants to sabotage himself as he chooses to leave the door to his office unlocked in the midst of upping the ante on his bender by including Dillon in it…sexually, of course. The “Mr. Hyde” that has come out due to his drug addiction is there to tell Armond, “Leave it open. Get caught. Fuck this place. Who needs it anyway?” All very tantalizing thoughts in the moment… until one wakes up the next day and remembers that the bills won’t pay themselves no matter how strong your “principles” are.
“See you on Wednesday?” Dillon asks after obliging Armond’s request in exchange for being allowed to ask for whatever shifts he wants going forward (oh, the small pleasures the proletariat must take where he can get them). Armond ripostes, “You mean tomorrow. You’re on second shift.” How quickly Armond has forgotten all that he was willing to promise Dillon now that he’s sobered up after getting caught—by Shane, of all people. Dillon is happy to remind, “You said I could pick my own shifts. You said a bunch of shit.” Armond counters, “I forget what I said.” Dillon insists, “Well I didn’t. You owe me.” Armond has now officially made the biggest mistake one can as a manager: losing his power over the underling. By way of losing any kind of respect he might have once had from Dillon as a result of completely lowering the veneer he spoke of so earnestly to Lani at the outset, knowing full well that you have to keep it on when you’re a middle manager in terms of comportment toward employees. And sure, every manager is tempted by the prospect of coming across as “fun” and “accessible” (which usually turns out like David Brent in The Office), only to realize too late that it isn’t worth the eventual mockery you’ll end up making of yourself in the eyes of the underlings.
As the fate of Armond becomes clear in the final episode, Belinda approaches him with information about Rachel potentially needing another room. While she’s going on about it, Armond tersely announces, “I’m getting fired. I don’t care.” “You’re what?” she asks, incredulous. “Randy’s coming tomorrow to fire me.” The “Randy” we’ll never see is that higher-up invisible man who only materializes when someone’s head needs to meet with the guillotine.
“Fuck this place!” Armond screams back in his office with Dillon, ready to consume the last of his stolen drug haul from Olivia (Sydney Sweeney) and Paula’s (Brittany O’Grady) bag. In the end, a middle manager will always be painted into this corner. It is not a tenable way to live one’s life, not even in the backdrop of a “paradise” like Hawaii. Then again, there are many middle managers who have checked out of their bodies in order to remain in this rather prostrate position.
