We were tired. My wife and I had flown several hours to Mexico, stood in the long customs line, and finally got our bags. All we wanted was to get to the resort and start our long-awaited 40th birthday/10th anniversary trip.

But first we had to find our transportation company. And that’s when the trouble started.

Once our bags went through immigration, we exited into a small concourse. A line of men in brightly colored, though generic, polos stood outside the immigration area. “Amstar?” we asked, mentioning the name of our transportation company. One of the men waved us over and brought us to a friendly young woman at the counter, who proceeded to “call” (she didn’t) our driver “Miguel” (not our driver) and said he would arrive in 15 minutes. She then spent the next several minutes asking us about our travel plans and trying to sell us excursion packages. My wife and I, genial but weary, realized we had made zero progress toward reaching our destination. We said no thank you and excused ourselves. Failed pick-up attempt number one.

In the next room was another line of brightly colored polos. With zero desire to sit through another sales pitch, we tried to make a beeline for the exit, but offhandedly asked “Amstar?” just in case. One of the men heard and waved us over. “Those aren’t the real people,” he said, pointing to the previous room. “These are the real people.” He brought us over to another counter, this time manned by a friendly thirtysomething man. He at least had the courtesy to tell us the correct station number to look for outside … before spending a few more minutes trying to sell us more excursions. At that point my promo “Spidey” sense was tingling, and the voice in my head said, “Look for the Amstar logo.” I looked him up and down for any sign; alas, the logo on his left chest was half obscured by his jacket. Still, it wasn’t right. This wasn’t our salvation either. Failed pick-up attempt number two.

Finally, we made it outside. We navigated through several groups and made our way over the crosswalk. There they were: the Amstar people, decked out in vivid blue floral shirts with the Amstar logo embroidered on the left chest. All our anxiety melted away – we had found the right people. Our vacation was starting.

How about an RT for our new uniforms? Look for them at all #Amstardmc destinations as of December 1st! pic.twitter.com/2E0xVC3bIx

— Amstar DMC (@amstardmc) November 20, 2014

So many people want to minimize the work you do in promo. “It’s just junk.” “Why waste your money?” Etc. But consider the simple power of a branded shirt, and how it brought my wife and me – and millions of other travelers – certainty in a stressful situation in a foreign country.

In fact, that visual comfort played out time and again during our trip in Mexico. Uniformed hotel personnel, tour guides in logoed caps and shirts, vans wrapped with the name of the excursion company – branding was our constant guiding star. Without it, we would’ve been adrift and quite literally lost.

This is just one example of how our industry makes a difference in so many meaningful ways – ways that most people won’t ever fully realize. It’s not hyperbole to say you offer knowledge, excitement, comfort and hope. And when the final destination is a poolside beach chair with a drink in hand, it’s also fair to say you offer happiness.