The Salon essay conveyed a certain tone well, I thought. There were details that didn't make the final cut. I don't resent cleaning clients. I've had a few terrible ones. The regular and even the good one-of clients just aren't interesting enough to make the essay cut.
One story that missed the essay: I cleaned two week old vomit out of a bathtub once. My client had never cleaned the house in eight years of living there. There wasn't dust. There was actual grime. The bedroom was decorated in a Texas flag motif. I told my agent, Joanne.
"Puke in the tub and Texas crap? I don't know what's worse," she said. Joanne has a Long Island accent. She's not a fan of redneck chic.
Ironically, I was cleaning while texting last minute edits to my Salon editor. The house was gigantic and owned by Mormons. I didn't know there were that many paintings of Jesus in the world, let alone in one private home. Not paintings, really. Kinkade/painter-of-light schlock prints. I also didn't know Jesus was a Viking, but the shiny blonde hair and blue eyes in all that artwork told a different tale. I had to fight for my price. At the end of six and a half hours (mainly because they wanted all the woodwork cleaned -- not a standard service), the visiting grandmother who was paying tried to get me to take $50.
I told her that for six hours, I'd need $120. I rounded down, trying to be nice about it. She offered $100, which I took. She looked at me like I'd woofed up a hairball on the rug before opening a red leather wallet and peeling off a bill from the giant stack of hundreds inside.
My regulars know the drill. They know that cleaning people are there to dust, vacuum, mop, and to clean kitchens and baths. We aren't there to pick up children's toys, laundry from the floor or anything that comes out of pets. When I arrive, the regulars' houses are clutter-free and ready for cleaning. I'm thorough. I move furniture (I should say that I shove it over using my body weight -- I can't really lift anything all that heavy). I take all the tchotchkes off of shelves before I dust. I change linens and throw the old sheets into the washer. I've brought baked goods to regulars. They're decent and solid and not the stuff of essay writing.
So! I wanted to thank the Salon peeps again. You really made my day with all the comments. Even the weird ones (UK health system, bad driving guy) were good for a laugh.
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3 comments:
Hi, Rebecca! I read your article on Salon.com yesterday, found my way to your blog, and ordered your book from amazon.co.uk today. (If their inventory math is right, I got the next-to-last copy in stock.) As an aspiring novelist/potential memoirist/slacker blogger myself (oh, and did I mention, lifelong-struggler-with-weight-issues and underemployed-college-grad?), I really enjoy your writing style and can't wait to read the book, and hope it will be reissued in the US soon! --Amy
I found my way over here after reading your article (and adding your book to my goodreads to read list). Although I cringed throughout, I also laughed. Thank you and best of luck with your writing career.
Thank you, Amy and Ellie!
I appreciate the kind words and the wise book purchases :) If you're anywhere near Toledo, Ohio, I'm always glad to sign the thing. It is very pink on the outside, but full of nifty stuff on the inside.
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