Trust Where You Least Expect It

It is close to midnight. I am out walking Loki, our little poodle. He is full of excitement, wagging his tail as if every walk is the best moment of his life. Rain or shine, tired or not, Loki never fails to show me the same enthusiasm. His consistency is what makes him trustworthy.

As I walk him, I find myself reflecting on the paradox of trust. Why is it that Malaysians, myself included, trust mamak stalls so deeply, even though hygiene is questionable and prices are never consistent? Yet in marriage or leadership, trust can be broken with just one careless word. Why is it easier to trust strangers with our stomachs than it is to trust the people closest to us with our hearts?

This is the paradox I want to explore: what Malaysians’ trust in mamak stalls teaches us about leadership, marriage, and legacy.

The Paradox of Easy Trust

Walk into a mamak stall and you’ll notice something strange. Nobody asks for the menu price in advance. Nobody protests when the bill comes and today’s roti canai is RM2.20 instead of RM1.80 yesterday. Nobody storms out when the man making roti handles cash with one hand and the dough with the other.

We know the hygiene is questionable. We know the sugar in teh tarik is enough to shock a dietician. We know diarrhea is always a possibility. Yet Malaysians go back. Again and again.

Now compare that with how trust works at home or in leadership. One careless word can undo months of peace, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts from warmth to tension. In places where trust should be strongest, it is also most fragile.

Globally, the Edelman Trust Barometer confirms this paradox. People no longer trust governments (only 42% do) or media. But surprisingly, 63% trust their employers more than those institutions. Trust is not about perfection. It is about predictability. We tolerate flaws in mamaks because we know what to expect. But when it comes to family and leadership, our expectations are so high that even small cracks feel like betrayal.

This is the paradox of easy trust: it is freely given to strangers but costly to those closest to us.

Loki, Marriage, and Mamak

Every night, Loki reminds me of what consistency looks like. He doesn’t care if I’m in a good mood or a bad one. He doesn’t measure whether I had a challenging day at home or whether work was heavy. For him, the walk is everything. He never fails to say “thank you” with his excitement.

That night, my emotional health was low. It had been three months of peace, and only now did tension surface. It struck me how quickly calm can give way to conflict, how easily trust can wobble when expectations are not met.

And then, in the very same day, I sat with people I barely knew. To my surprise, they ended up witnessing a private moment of struggle. Sometimes we are forced to trust strangers with our most vulnerable realities, not because we want to, but because life corners us into it.

Then I remembered the mamak. Malaysians trust mamaks more than they trust five-star restaurants. In a mamak, the kitchen may not look clean, the price may shift day by day, but we return because we know what to expect: familiarity, accessibility, and a predictable experience. At a fine-dining restaurant, we demand spotless service, consistency of pricing, and perfect hygiene. A single mistake can bring criticism or even rejection.

And that is the paradox. We grant easy trust to mamaks, even with flaws, yet we hold our closest relationships to impossible standards.

What Real Trust Is

From these reflections, I see that trust comes in three forms.

Situational trust. Like visiting a doctor. You may not know him personally, but you trust the process, even if it requires you to undress. At mamak, it is the same. You trust the system, not the person.

Earned trust. Like when I tell my team, “I trust you enough to hand you the knife.” I believe they won’t stab me recklessly. And even if they do cut, I trust it will be to save me, like cutting off a hand to save the body. This is the trust that grows over time.

Surrendered trust. Like in marriage or in faith. You don’t just trust for safety; you trust with your whole being. This is the hardest form because it requires vulnerability.

John Maxwell calls this the Law of Solid Ground: trust is the foundation of leadership. Once it cracks, influence collapses.

Confucius taught the same. He said that a nation can do without weapons, and even without food, but it cannot do without trust. Without trust, a nation cannot stand.

Even modern research echoes this. Google’s Project Aristotle found that the number one factor in high-performing teams is not intelligence or resources but psychological safety, the trust that you won’t be punished for mistakes.

And yet, trust cannot exist without security. Insecure leaders cannot extend trust because they are too busy protecting themselves. Secure leaders extend trust even at risk, because they know leadership is not self-preservation but sacrifice.

Stellar’s own values anchor this truth: Integrity, Empathy, Excellence. Without integrity, trust is impossible. Without empathy, trust is shallow. Without excellence, trust erodes over time.

Building Trust That Lasts

So what do we do with this paradox, trusting mamaks with our stomachs but struggling to trust our closest with our hearts?

For leaders, the call is clear. We need to:

• Be consistent. Like Loki, like mamak stalls. People don’t need perfection. They need predictability. Consistency builds trust far more than charisma.
• Be transparent. Trust doesn’t collapse when mistakes are made. It collapses when mistakes are hidden. Leaders must learn to show cracks, not hide them.
• Be empathetic. To lead is to see through the other’s lens. In marriage, in teams, in companies, empathy restores where logic cannot.

Examples from the world prove this point. Toyota trusted workers to stop the line when flaws appeared, a radical trust that made Toyota legendary. Nelson Mandela trusted former enemies enough to build a nation. Singapore’s MRT and CPF systems built public trust not through charm, but through decades of consistency.

At Stellar, this is how legacy is built. By aligning the heartbeat of the organization with God’s purpose, by ensuring integrity in every process, by multiplying trust instead of hoarding control.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

Here is the paradox that reshapes it all:

The opposite of trust isn’t doubt. It’s control.

Doubt can coexist with faith. Doubt can even strengthen trust when faced honestly. But control suffocates trust before it even has a chance to grow.

That is why we keep going back to mamaks. They are imperfect, sometimes messy, but predictable. We can trust them because they don’t try to control us. They just serve.

If leaders want to build legacy in marriage, in teams, in organizations, they must resist the instinct to control. Trust is not earned through dominance. It is built through consistency, empathy, and surrender.

And that is the true lesson behind Malaysian trust towards mamak.