A few days ago I wrote a piece about how my shockingly-English-speaking cleaning lady was a poor negotiator. By the way according to my analytics, basically nobody liked the story. Screw you fools. Writing everyday is hard.
I will admit it was a little weak. Ahem…
Last night I went around surveying her work. It was not great. Little things I hadn’t noticed before like corners with large dust bunnies, the bathroom mirror that hadn’t been washed, and the microwave she didn’t clean after a chili explosion. Oh well.
Are you wondering if I hadn’t done a walkthrough of the place prior to her leaving? Actually I did. But I’m also the guy who pees in his kitchen sink. What do I know from clean? I mean, it’s not like I had her go around with a black light to see the real dirt. I will not be expounding further on this matter.
The reality is that I did a mini walk-through when she was here but I just wanted her the shit out of my condo. She was a yapper and I literally had to go from room to room to escape her stories. She was nice, but if I need a friend I’ll ask your mom to start paying me again to hang out with you.
Now, the last time I had a cleaning lady the cat peed on my comforter during and I had to run out to the laundromat because the thing is too big for my washer. When I came back the trollup was gone with a bunch of my stuff.
She was smart enough to leave her cellphone behind and all of her vacation photos from Hawaii with her daughter. At least I can feel good about ruining her ability to ever visually reflect on this family vacation.
So this time I had to take precaution.
The new cleaning lady was half an hour late – always a great first impression. I didn’t really care but I had to go run and get groceries. I had this coupon that was $11 off a $70 purchase. It just so happened I needed a bungload of groceries. Plus, a coupon like that is exciting to this paleface. But the last time I left with a cleaner there I got rooked.
So I did what anyone with half a brain would have done in that scenario…
I took her car keys.
Yep. I asked her for her car keys so I could go to the supermarket and shop. This way she couldn’t make off with any of my guitars, the upright piano, or the faux-suede sectional. She could continue to, however, line her pockets with anything small. I’m not digging around in her Wranglers. I’m no animal. If she can slide it in a purse, it’s hers.
Asking somebody for their car keys presupposes that they’re going to steal. It’s kind of a slight to their character. Okay, not “kind of.”
I explained to her that I got ripped off the last time and it wasn’t personal. Surprisingly, she understood and didn’t seem to take offense. She kept mumbling something about “karma” this or that for people that steal. Ever notice karma is a word only stupid people use? Because it’s the high tech version of “what goes around comes around” which we all know doesn’t actually translate into reality. By the way, if the world runs on karma it is definitely not on a one-to-one ratio.
I made it down to my car with two sets of keys. I have to admit I did love the power grab. I could take her car to the grocery if I wanted! I could go make a copy of her set of keys and break into her house! I could set off her car alarm and not turn it off!
Or I could just go get a bunch of asparagus and fat-free milk. Which is what I did.
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