Postales del Paraíso
The Housekeeper
Life here is pretty interesting. I met with a prospective gardener, pool guy and maid last week who, along with the property manager I hired, were all supposed to show up here at 9:00 AM. So the doorbell rings at 8:30 and I open the door to find a woman; short, stout, obviously strong and decidedly ancient, standing in the middle of the street talking a mile a minute in Spanish, gesturing wildly and waving a bag of rags as I stare blankly back at her not having any idea what she’s talking about, until I finally come to the realization that this must be the maid, so I invite her in.
We sit at the (only) table and she talks in Spanish and I talk in English and neither one of us has any idea what the other is saying. She would prattle on for five minutes, slapping the table occasionally for emphasis, and then she would stop, and smile, and look at me expectantly. I would stare blankly back at her for a minute and then launch into my own soliloquy. She would respond in kind, and we continued this for half an hour until the gardener showed up.
So Santiago’s left hand is all bandaged and as we stand at the door he explains repeatedly, with a slicing motion of his right hand, and in a very patient but increasingly loud voice, as if talking to a moron; “Cortar!” “Mano!” “Arbol!” He puts his face very close to mine and looks directly at me and then to his hand and then back to me and repeats in a loud voice; “Cortar!” “Mano!” Arbol!” So now I find myself staring at him wondering whether hiring the gardener who has apparently sliced his hand while trying to prune a tree is truly the best first decision I could make as a virgin homeowner in Mexico, but it is the first thing I’ve understood all morning, and it is at least a distraction from my staring contest with Maria Teresa Nueves Gonzales Martinez, so I invite him in too.
So now Maria continues to talk non-stop in her rapid-fire Spanish banging on the table to emphasize whatever it is she is saying and Santiago continues his loud, one word sentences accompanied by grand animated gestures. She seems to be talking to him and he seems to be trying to translate for me, so I try my best to engage them both, smiling occasionally and nodding knowingly; “Si!... Si!...” I feel like Aunt Mary at the Thanksgiving table at our home in Boston, listening to the conversation and occasionally chiming in “Oh, shu-ah”.
So the property manager and the pool guy finally show up and with Romero (the pool guy) acting as translator, Maria informs us that she will accept the housekeeper position but she wants 50 pesos an hour. Before I can blurt out my enthusiastic acceptance the property manager immediately dismisses the proposal as being astronomically expensive and instructs Romero to inform Maria that her proposal is outrageous and that we would never agree to such an exorbitant rate (Anything over $2.00 per hour is apparently considered extortion).
The rest of us return to our discussion of the property and in a few minutes Maria interrupts in a loud voice and a slap of the table; “Cuarenta y Cinco!” After a brief discussion Romero announces that Maria has decided that she will work for 45 pesos but that we must pay for all of her cleaning supplies. Everyone ignores her.
Sarah (the property manager), Santiago, Romero and I get up and begin to walk the property discussing the various details and procedures that will require attention; the water filtration system, the location of shut-off valves, the specific care required by this plant or that, when Maria, still sitting by herself announces with an emphatic bang on the table “Treinta!” Apparently she has now decided that she will work for thirty pesos, but she cannot work on Thursdays or Saturdays and she must leave no later than 2:00 PM on Wednesdays. Additionally, she does not do laundry, she does not provide meals, we must pay for her bus fare to get back and forth from her home each day, and of course we pay for all of her cleaning supplies and equipment.
Santiago rolls his eyes, shrugs his shoulders and with a brief sigh continues his conversation about the fertilizers for the plants, Sarah and Romero join in as if there had been no interruption to the conversation.
Romero and Santiago seem very knowledgeable, and competent. Romero states that he can maintain the pool to the very highest standards (whatever that means) by coming 3 mornings per week to scrub the sides of the pool, vacuum the bottom, clean the surface, maintain the proper pH levels, ensure proper filtration and maintain consistent water levels . He would supply all of his own materials and chemicals and for this his fee would be $250 pesos per week; about $19.00 US. And so despite feeling as though I just had a conversation with a used car salesman, I tell Sarah; “Hired.”
Santiago’s fee for maintaining all of the plants: watering, pruning and fertilizing all of the garden, potted plants, hanging plants inside and outside would be $150 pesos per week. He would be here two days per week and his fee includes feeding the fish and maintaining the Koi pond. “Hired.”
Sarah’s fee as the property manager is $800 pesos per month (about $60.00) “Hired,” I tell her, “And I think we’re done here today”.
Maria Teresa Nueves Gonzales Martinez leaves the house arm in arm with Romero and Santiago, still talking a mile a minute, still smiling, but with no commitment from me.
Later that afternoon a woman knocks on the door, introduces herself as Theresa and informs me that she provides housekeeping services for several of my (expat) neighbors, and offers her services to me. After a thorough tour of the house and an extended conversation I am convinced that she will do an excellent job. As soon as she leaves, and almost giddy at the prospect of not having to ever again deal with Maria, I immediately leave a phone message for Sarah (the property manager) telling her that we should immediately hire Theresa.
I sat having a beer at an outside restaurant on the Zocalo a few nights later, and one of my neighbors (a Canadian expat) pulls up a chair and orders a beer. “I understand you’ve met Maria!” he says with a smile. I start to tell him my story and he holds up his hand for me to stop, and he laughs. “You do know that Maria never had any intention of accepting the position don’t you?” he chuckles. He says this as if he’s telling me a joke and I immediately begin to get a sinking feeling. As he tells the story; Maria knew that her granddaughter Theresa would be applying for the position later that same day so, as she has done with all of my neighbors over many years as each one moved into the neighborhood, she felt obliged to ensure that Theresa would be viewed in the best possible light and would have the best possible advantage, so Maria made sure that she showed up first “Para asegurarse de que todo avanza como debería.”... to ensure that everything proceeds as it should.
“It’s OK, It’s OK” my neighbor laughs. “We’ve all been through Maria’s baptism into the community. If Maria didn’t like you Theresa would never have knocked on your door. You’ll love Theresa! We all do. She’s delightful... and she’s very good.”
“And Maria?” I ask.
He laughs, “You’ll get to know her pretty well. She’ll stop by occasionally to check up on you and to make sure everything is going well!
“Great”, I mutter into my beer, “I can’t wait!”
