‘Après Ski,’ all is fake but the snow

Reality shows set in workplaces often have us asking ourselves a variation on the chicken-and-egg question: Did these colorful staffers help persuade the producers to make the show, or were these colorful staffers hired after the producers made that decision?

Bravo’s new series “Après Ski” raises a bigger question: Was this show based on an actual business, or was the business created for the purpose of the show?

The owner of the firm in question, a concierge service for rich people visiting a Canadian ski resort, actually says that he can only run it for one season unless it’s a success.

Obviously, the same goes for the show.

And the hiring, as is often the case on these shows, seems to have been driven by the potential for drama, comedy and titillation rather than by the usual business concerns.

Whether or not that’s true, the concierges and their bosses are mostly familiar reality-show types whose qualifications for their jobs are dubious.

Since people who would hire a concierge to run their vacation probably have an acute sense of entitlement, the customers tend to be more tiresome than the staff. The fantasy element — imagining a high-budget vacation in a beautiful location — gets dragged down to earth, and neither the clients nor the viewers have much fun.

Premiering Monday, Nov. 2, at 10 p.m., “Après Ski” starts on the first day of business of the concierge company, further raising suspicions that the show and the company are symbiotic.

Founded by a man named Joey Gibbons, Gibbons Life is intended to provide luxury experiences in and around Whistler, a ski resort in British Columbia.

Showing up for their first day of work are some of the concierges: Bobby, a gay man who says he’s always partied with rich people but is now going pro; Jimmy and Charlotte, who said they grew up skiing Whistler; and Kendra, who says that her background is in fashion and that she speaks four foreign languages.

Further adding to the air of falsity, the concierges have been given a big, comfortable house to share, something that happens on “The Real World,” not in the real world.

Showing up late is Lynsey, a former pro skier, who seems to have a thing for Jimmy. Bobby is also interested in him, saying that Jimmy might be “convertible” after four beers.

The most unlikely hire is the concierges’ boss, Elise, a divorced woman from Pittsburgh with no experience skiing. Her clothes are inappropriate both for an office and for a ski resort. “I kind of stick out like a sore thumb,” she tells the camera.

Elise is so obviously intended to raise conflict that the little that actually arises falls even flatter. At one point, she tells the concierges that they’re not dressed appropriately for work. Referencing Elise’s outfit, Bobby says, “I left my black sequins at home,” and Lynsey says, “I don’t usually wear prom dresses to work.”

Elise’s generally peeved air and the concierges’ small acts of rebellion don’t add up to drama.

The interaction with the clients is disappointing in different ways. One group is two married women and their recently divorced friend. They’re hoping for a luxury weekend that will release the divorcee “into the wild.”

The staff plans to take them on a helicopter ride to a hot spring. Elise says, “Their masseuses need to be hot men with no shirts feeding them chocolate strawberries.”

The masseuses turn out to be women in sensible outfits. The clients order Bobby to strip down to his underwear and serve them drinks.

At a stop on a dogsled ride, the clients are greeted by a waiter wearing one of those Chippendale’s stripper collar-bowtie combinations and a tiny apron. The women ask Jimmy to trade outfits with him. Jimmy says he can’t because he didn’t shave.

Another group, consisting of two couples, questions Elise’s managerial skills. The women complain because they have to walk a few feet in the snow in their heels. One of them, a vegan, is too hung-over to handle a catered dinner in a ski gondola.

No one could possibly care whether the company succeeds. The staffers will probably go back to what they were doing before, which probably was trying to become famous.

The luxury travel, rather than inspiring envy, mostly reinforces the platitude that money can’t buy happiness.

Viewers will be slightly less happy après “Après Ski.”