Showing posts with label House-Help Chronicles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label House-Help Chronicles. Show all posts
House-Help Chronicles ~ Here We Go Again!
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House-Help Chronicles
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“Follow your instincts. That’s where true wisdom
manifests itself” ~ Oprah Winfrey
Normally, I would feel my poor heart thumping away
in panic as soon as I hear “Mummy, I want to travel and see my people”. These
things can soooooo destabilize one, especially if your working hours ain’t
flexible. For some reason tho, her's just made me smile that quiet
I-was-not-born-yesterday type smile. This move I’ve sorta been expecting
because lately, she's been less that her usual cheerful self...and to be fair,
she hasn't been to see her people in the one year she has stayed with me. Maybe
a change of environ will do her...and ultimately me...a world of good.
The panic began to creep in ever so stealthily
when, after her approved week long holiday I was yet to see or hear from my
trusted help. Hunting and breaking in new domestic staff, especially house
helps is one chore I absolutely dread.
I sent out feelers to all and sundry. The search
was on! After I interviewed the first couple of helps sent my way, I began to
despair. The first could not string together a sentence in English to save her
life; the other was referred to me by my neighbour’s house help....story for
another day.
My joy when I got the BBM chat that said, “Olee gi? Found someone for you o. She took care of these
kids I know. She may sha want like 30k or so” was immeasurable. When I
called the someone found for me, I didn't even bother with interviewing her. I
went from "Hey, how are you?" to "Pack your things and start
coming to my house." What was I interviewing her for? My friend would
never steer me wrong. More so, I know this help’s sister and in my opinion,
Ghana house helps no too dey suffer from local weyrey like their Nigerian
counterparts.
I was beyond relieved when Naomi* {the help} called to say she was in my house. Thank God for friends that always look out for you! I got home that evening to finally meet the voice I've been speaking to on the phone. Matured, respectful, pleasant and playful with the kids, what more could a girl ask for? I mouthed a quick thanks heavenwards and subtly pulled my sister to the corner!
13...And Pregnant!
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House-Help Chronicles
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Househelp Chronicles was birthed because I needed to vent out my frustrations from dealing with the numerous househelps I’ve had in my employ. But as much as I vented, there were lessons learnt from every single one of those helps.
Today’s HouseHelp Chronicle was sent in by a good friend and blogger Olaedo of Olaedo-GoldenThoughts. Do check out her blog and enjoy this chronicle…
I remembered her today. I had only been married for a short time, and pregnant with my first child, when she came to live with me. She was the first househelp I had. She was thirteen [three years ago] and was about starting secondary school.
The first day my aunty brought her to my mother's house from the village, my sister wondered aloud at her big breasts. She had a small body but was definitely busty for someone that young. She had a bit of a tummy too. I commented on that. My mum said that it was possible that she was malnourished. She was of the opinion that by the time the girl started eating right, she'd fill out properly. I asked my new help then if she had started seeing her period. She answered in the affirmative and said that she had just finished a period before leaving the village with my aunty.
She came back with me to Lagos. She seemed smart and was very hard-working. All she wanted to do was quickly take care of her chores and sleep. I told her that she could watch the television whenever she was done with her chores. She would come join me in the living room and in a few minutes, sneak off to her room to sleep.
House-Help Chronicles [Part III]
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House-Help Chronicles
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My house help left today.
Before the nay sayers and anonymous vermin get their knickers in a tight bunch, let’s start from the very beginning, shall we?
The first time I saw her in November of 2011, the day she was brought to my house, my spirit was all kinds of uneasy. Chic is a full-breasted [kegs for days], flat ab’d, skinny 21-year old wench. She came sporting this long-ass weave [most definitely a 22-inch weave]. Add her snooty i-am-not-available-please-keep-your-distance aura and I seriously feared for my marriage. I hear guys like those hard-to-get i’m-not-available types. But because I was in dire need of a house help, I employed her…with a caveat: she would be on one month trial period after which we would both decide whether or not we were good for each other. I was also buying time for myself. One month was also enough time for me to score another help, just in case. I was not prepared to let this envisaged bee-magnet stay longer than was necessary in my house.
She passed the one month trial period with flying colors. Chic is sensible, a hard worker, proactive and very organized. She knows what to do and when to do them. The kids are feed and bathed on time. I didn’t need to prompt her. And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t have to come back from work and go straight to slaving in the kitchen. In fact, I come home and food is literally running after me…
“Mummy, can I bring your food?” This is even before I clear free of the front door
“Mummy, are you ready to eat now?” This is usually 5 mins later, as soon as I enter my bedroom
“Mummy, your food is getting cold. Should I bring it now?” 10 minutes later
“Ok, Mummy, can I at least bring water for you to drink?”
And I would murmur within me, “Chic, do you plan to poison me? Fi le!"
But I loved that she asked and I adjusted her salary accordingly. Other helps I’ve had in time past couldn’t be bothered…whether I eat or not is none of their business. This chic was good to me.
Second week in February, she informed me that she would be going for her aunt’s burial in Calabar come first week in March. I know her aunt died; the drama played out in my house within the first month of her employment. What I didn’t understand was why she would want to travel all the way to Calabar and for an unspecified period of time. She couldn’t say when she was coming back and if she was coming back [I sweated a bit at this part]. Not again! I was a little angry but I made arrangements for a replacement. At least, she had the good sense to give me three weeks’ notice.
On Sunday March 4th, I finally realized why she wanted to leave.
This morning as she was prepping to leave, I called her and asked what her plans were. She said she’ll call me as soon as she was done with Calabar.
“So you are coming back?” I asked, very hopeful. She said yes.
“Good”, I said “But I meant what are your plans for your pregnancy?!”
Her head snapped up…and slowly dropped.
“I’m not pregnant”, she murmured.
“How far long are you?”
“Four months”, she answered.
“Who is the father?”
“My boyfriend”
“Does he know?” She had told me about this boyfriend of hers when I interviewed her.
“Yes, he does”
“What’s he saying? Are you guys planning on getting married?”
“He’s not saying anything…”
I sighed. Children having children. Children of nowadays just don’t get it. I was still in my early twenties when I became pregnant with Chets. I was married oo but I was scared shitless of that pregnant state. It was even worse when I had the baby: what was I going to be doing with this tiny creature? And I had this baby enveloped in the comforts of a marriage where i didnt have to worry so much about money, with a husband, mother and mother-in-law that loved me. Now imagine being 21, impregnated by a boyfriend that doesn’t give two f**ks about your present state, with parents that gives less than two about your wellbeing, jobless and nearly broke! Scary shit. I told her all this. Told her abortion was not an option. Considering how far gone she is, it would be a health risk. Also told her being a mother is definitely not a walk in the park. Your whole life changes. What happens to her dreams and aspirations...whatever they are? Or maybe being pregnant at the stage in her life is her dream? Who knows? But hard as it might be, if she gets it right, it would be totally worth it. I mentioned all these.
I doubt she heard anything i said.
I have a sneaky feeling she’s not going to come back. Not now that i know that she’s actually pregnant. Maybe she was planning to go to Calabar, remove the baby and come back? Who knows? But i made sure i drummed this into her ears: Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, ring me when you get back from the burial. In fact, ring me if you need anything. Baby clothes, a helping hand...ring me.
I hope she does right by that baby. I hope she does right by herself. But i’m not entirely hopeful. That chic has plans! Considering how composed she was, she definitely has plans.
I do miss her. Who woulda thunk it?
HHC: Another One Bits The Dust
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House-Help Chronicles
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One month ago, on a certain wednesday morning, Happiness walked out on my household. No, not happiness the feeling. Yes, Happiness the nanny. She upped and left that day and *who am I kidding?* took my happiness, the feeling, with her!
Happiness was the nanny I never mess with and absolutely do not allow anybody mess with her! She took care of my kids like her own...or so I thought! A mother of three boys, Zi was like the little girl she didn't have. Heck, Zi called both of us Mummy equally...anyone within hearing distance answers her call.
Happiness was a lifeline and even though I didn't outrightly say this to her, I always made sure she knew how much I appreciated her efforts from my actions.
Happiness was more than my children's nanny to me. Yes, she was much more...Happiness was my friend!
Happiness stole out of my house and my life unannounced that fateful morning as I left for work, leaving my kids stranded in school! No warning! NONE AT ALL!!!
That day, I couldn't eat. I couldn't summon even the tiniest of appetites. I had this bitter ugly taste in my mouth. It took a while to realize what that taste was. Betrayal! It tastes like garbage, mixed with a generous dollop of really sour mayonnaise and served, wrapped in trash!
I will not even front...I cried. The only other time I cried over a heartbreak so deep-seated it physically hurt in my chest was when my boyfriend of many years decided, all by his lone self, that we needed a break (the boyfriend is now the hubby and I still haven't forgiven him for those tears).
With Happiness, kai, I was floored. I didn't know what to think; who to blame!
I blamed myself..maybe I have MPD such that after I slush off to bed, Cruella Devile, complete with claws and vampira dentition, emerges to torment these people.
I blamed my son..maybe this pint-size barely-four-year old boy is really a "problem child", rude and unruly to the point of driving grown ass women from my home.
I blamed my driver..beneath his dumbo cant-hurt-a-fly exterior, he really might be a househelp-molester.
I blamed everybody except for the person that thought I didn't deserve the courtesy of information. It took me a month to realise that laying blames and wondering where I got it wrong was an effort in futility. Like Toinlicious or was it CoyIntrovert tweeted, these people come wired with special effects. Nothing you do is gonna ever satisfy them! It also took me a while to realise nothing is wrong with me...infact I'm the mellow-est of 'madams' I know. Nothing is wrong with my son...he has just plain refused to be bullied. And finally, my driver has not given me reason to suspect he's into diddling helps.
It took me a month to be ok with her actions (no word from her as yet); it took me a month to let the hurt go; it took a month to bring myself to blog it!
And this day that it clocked exactly one month (a week ago), Mary packed her things to leave...same MO! And this time round, I had the last laugh. I laughed so hard, I nearly peed my dross. Even now, I have a small smile on my face! Because as she was about to abscond, I got wind of it, got someone to hold her down and made a mad dash home! How I handled that situation is post for another day. BUT she left...still...shocked to her marrows and I chuckle...still...each time I remember the circumstances of her exit! I'm done rolling over and playing dead! Last I checked, that tree at my backyard never begin shed money! Oloshi{s}.
[If you have any househelp tales that could educate mothers on signs not to ignore in a help amongst other things, please send to 21stcenturycareermom@gmail.com. It’ll be hugely appreciated. You never know whose life or marriage it might save!]
How is everybody doing? Good, i hope. Anyways, Beddings’n’Beyond is gearing up for its first ever sales. In case you are not familiar with what i’m going on about, check them out on:
You can follow on Twitter: @_beddingsrus_ and they follow right back!
Ok, that is all for today. Lemme now go and make Sunday rice before Chets crucifies me for tarrying! Blog soonest....xx
House-Help Chronicles
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House-Help Chronicles
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Somehow, it is inevitable that this blog would have a series dedicated exclusively to house helps and all the lessons i’ve learnt employing them. With a job that affords me just about enough time to come home, eat and hit the sack until the next morning, having a help is not even topic for debate. Did i say a help? Make that TWO helps in my case, one in charge of the kids’ welfare and the other to take of general housecleaning. And having two helps saves me a lot of headache and embarrassment. What sort of story would i have concocted for the office after that help of mine ran away, if i didn’t have a backup in my nanny?
My house-help ran away weeks ago; i mentioned it in my last post. Last week {Thursday to be precise} i got a replacement from Enugu. This post is all about the replacement and the lesson i learnt from her!
Thursday 20/10
4:10pm- I called this 20-something year old help to ask her whereabouts to determine when to go pick her up. She said she had no idea. I asked that she find out from the bus conductor or driver or whoever could give her the information. She returned, few minutes later, with, “We are in Benin”. Great.
6:05pm- I called her again. She picks and says they are in Ojodu Berger.
“Progress”, i thought.
“Thank You Jesus”, i said.
Then i told her to stop at Ojota to which she replied, “Be coming out now. Come and wait there. I’ve told you we are in Berger. Just come out and wait in Ojota”.
“Progress”, i thought.
“Thank You Jesus”, i said.
Then i told her to stop at Ojota to which she replied, “Be coming out now. Come and wait there. I’ve told you we are in Berger. Just come out and wait in Ojota”.
To be totally honest, i’m still smarting from Precious’ absconding, the help that ran away. It pained me more because she waited until i paid her salary and as i left for the neighbourhood market the next day to get foodstuff, she took off...literally...slippers in hand. And so, when Madame New House-help said i should stand in Ojota, name card in hand i suppose, and wait for her, i got pissed again. Whats with me and these girls with attitude?
6:29pm- She flashes my phone; i called back. She said they were in Ojota and i said, “Good. Now ask for the bus coming to Maryland Junction. Its about 5-10 minutes drive and it won’t cost more than N50”. She started whining, “You know i don’t know anywhere. You were supposed to be waiting for me in Ojota”. I told her not to worry; she cant miss the Mr Biggs by Mobil Gas Station in Maryland Junction. No way. Also told her i would be waiting right there for her. Tihehe...small victory i know but i’d rather show her right off the bat who was BOSS...ME!
7:02pm- 30 calls later...23 of which she ignored out rightly, 5 cut off...we meet ourselves for the first time ever.
I usually give my new employees pep talks but i decided to skip hers that night. She was tired from that long ass journey. Pep talk can wait until the next day. I gave her food and told her to go rest.
Friday 21/10
9:07am- PHCN just brought the light. I was in the bathroom trying to load the kids’ dirty laundry into the washing machine. New Help was cleaning the loo. She met me, mop and bucket in hand, in the bathroom and started “mopping” the bath floor. Then she asked, “Which bucket am i supposed to use and mop this floor?” to which the nanny replied, “Haba, the one you are using right now”.
New Help: Hian. Don’t you people have that normal mop bucket? Because my hand cannot touch this mop.
I heard that statement and my ears perked up. I slowly backtracked and asked her: What did you just say?
New Help: My hand cannot touch the mop head to squeeze off the water. It irritates my skin.
Me: How did you clean the toilet?
New Help: I just hold the mop until the water stops dripping and i use it. Theres no way i’m touching that mop. You people should try and buy the mop bucket.
Me: Can you see my hand? Is it scaly or itchy? Can you look at Happy’s {nanny} hands? Are they scaly or itchy?
She answered, “All hands are not the same!”
I gave her the pep talk then...but it was not the initially prepared talk. I gave her a different, more aggressive, not-ready-to-take-shit version of the pep talk and it seemed to sober her up a bit.
5:27pm- I came home from my day’s waka and met with her to give her the chore list. Before i gave her the list, i asked,
“Have you done this sort of work before and where?”
“You won’t know the place so there’s no point telling you”, she replied.
“What?” I was shocked. My goodness!
“Its my Aunty’s place and we were three and...”
“Whatever”, i cut her off and read out her chores. After i was done, i asked her if she had anything to say. She started:
1. I don’t like working and working and somebody cannot rest in between work.
2. I don’t like someone sending me on an errand when i’m already working on something for them.
3. I don’t like being disturbed by kids while i'm cleaning.
4. I don’t like children scattering places i’ve already cleaned.
5. Ulcer is real. I don’t want anybody starving me o. I need my food 3x a day.
6. When can i watch TV?
I was dumbfounded!! What??? When i recovered, i asked just that one question, “That money i sent to your agent for your transport, is any still remaining?”
I need a help not a liability. I need someone that would reduce my stress level to the barest minimum not someone that would increase it ten fold. And i certainly do not need any ugly ass entity with attitude, schlepping drama around my household. Enough was enough!
Tuesday 25/10
6:05am- I woke up and told her to pack. This relationship is cursed from the get-go. I helped her pack the electric iron and plate and cup and cutlery into her bag! Who packs their own plate and cutlery to a job like this?
In the four days she was with me, it has been one drama or the other. Just yesterday, a friend of mine that we all went to visit walked her out of her house. My friend says she thinks her problem goes beyond attitude. She senses a dark spirit around her. Oh boy!
I know the lesson these few days thought me. I will never second-guess my first impressions...my instincts.
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