Service

Just a guess that the Dalai Lama was never in the service industry.
I am pretty sure of this because:
a) His Holiness was sought out as a small child in the mountains of Tibet as the reincarnation of the 13th Dalai Lama and has been the spiritual leader of the Gelug Tibetan Buddhists ever since. Most likely, as a holy man of the highest order, he never had a summer job as a waiter serving lobster bisque to tourists or scrubbing toilets as folks in cocktail dresses and tails floated by. He's been busy enlightening the world and stuff.
b) He said this: "Think of other people. Serve other people sincerely. No cheating!"

He obviously never worked on a megayacht.

OK, OK. I assume that the Dalai Lama was referring to the type of service you don't get paid for- helping out your fellow human being without expectation of compensation.
The majority of my service background if we're talking in hours has been toiling for filthy green rectangles of made-up value. Yes, I did volunteer work in high school and college, yes I try to help people out where I can, yes I think of myself as a pretty compassionate person- but I never feel like I am ever doing enough.

Especially when I'm working for the wealthy.
I see true Dalai Lama-ish service as working with the economically or socially challenged. With the homeless or orphans or those close to death. With those who just encountered a tragedy or can't seem to find a break from misfortune.
Because when I work for those people, I feel like I am doing something good. Like I can give myself a little pat on the back for being a good person. No matter what the outcome, I tried to help. A little psychological balm for all the help I can't give.

But what if actually getting paid for service and following the Dalai Lama's advice, especially the last bit about not cheating, what if that is actually more virtuous in an emotional sense? It can be harder, that's for sure. (Stay with me- I'm not advocating chucking volunteerism)
For example, I find it easier to feel compassion towards someone who is "less fortunate" than myself if they get angry and start screaming bloody murder at me when I hand them a plate of food in a shelter. I reason that most likely they have psychological problems and are unhappy with their situation and hopefully, somehow, someone (else?) will take care of them. I try to fill my heart with love and compassion and move on.
On the other hand, getting called a servant and being ridiculed for some allegedly botched task (a stiff drink, let us say), even the tiniest sliver of compassion is thrown out the porthole and I am seething with resentment and ill will towards this someone whom is "more fortunate." (Drawing from past experience- the current guests are lovely. So far.)
Thus I reason it is more of a boddhisatva challenge for me to calm my brain and open my heart to those who seem to have more but may be as "poor" or "crazy" physically or emotionally as those I consider charity cases. Instead of being angry at an angry millionaire, why not pour even more kindness into my service with the same intention of making someone's life better. Not because of the eventual payment (money comes, money goes), but because like the women I served in the hospice in India, everyone needs to feel the warmth of a genuine smile, needs to feel the trickle down goodness of the lifeforce that is a clean/ice-cold glass of water, needs a willing hand to help them up the stairs. Even if I don't get a thank you or some other fuzzy approval or gratification for my actions.
So as I scurry around cleaning toilets and wiping down showers and mixing up vodka and sodas, I will be aware that these individuals, whatever their financial or social or emotional situations, need compassion too. Maybe more so.
I will listen and speak with empathy and compassion (even if it's a drink order), I will fold shirts with total willingness and love (stop laughing, I'm serious), I will welcome each person every time they step aboard with genuine warmth and an open hearted smile.

That could be a real service to someone. To everyone.

Even more than a killer bloody mary with extra olives and a twist.