\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
    November     ►
SMTWTFS
     
3
6
8
13
17
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1075615
Item Icon
Rated: 18+ · Book · Biographical · #2258138
This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters.
#1075615 added August 23, 2024 at 10:52pm
Restrictions: None
The Help
When I was caring for my Mom, I didn't ask for help from anyone (and no one offered). Mom and I were doing fine, we had our routine and even though life wasn't perfect, we managed as best as we could. After she died, I wound up her estate, moved to Thailand and swore I would never do another day of housework again.

Not long after I moved into my current abode, my neighbour asked me if I needed a cleaner. He then introduced me to my cleaning lady, Ding. She had been his cleaner for a few months and his recommendation was enough for me. Employing someone to come into your home comes with a certain amount of risk, and if not for my neighbour's vouch of approval, I would have tested her integrity and honesty by placing a small denomination banknote under the couch to see if the person who has a key for my premises is worthy of my trust. I took Ding on and didn't think about it again.

Ding is a single Mom who struggles to pay her bills. She works hard for her money and we have developed a good rapport over the months. In keeping with my want to support local people who are less fortunate than me, I pay Ding B500 plus an extra B200 tip for her once-a-week cleaning service. She does a pretty good job and I am reasonably happy with the cost for what she does.

On my kitchen bench, I keep a small bowl into which I put loose change. In Australia, I would save my coins, and once the container was full, take them to the bank and exchange the coins for notes. But, I noticed that the bowl here never seems to overflow. This got me curious, and despite some inner turmoil and going against my better judgment, I decided to count the largest denominational coins and see if any were missing after Ding had done her cleaning.

Last Friday, as usual, I said goodbye to Ding and left for the gym. She was gone when I returned, and to my dismay, when I checked the bowl, there was money missing. My heart sank, and at that moment, I wished I hadn't bothered to test her. Then, I got angry and wanted to confront her, but my mind began to race through all the crap that would ensue. I realised that in all seriousness, it wasn't worth the drama. However, a few dollars every week for six months isn't a small amount of money, and I knew that there was no point setting the trap unless I was willing to do something about it if she failed...but what?

I spent a few nights sleeping on it before coming up with what is for me, the perfect solution. When Ding arrived this morning, and before I left for the gym, instead of confronting her, I got the bowl, tipped the contents into a plastic bag and gave it to her. This was my way of feeling OK about what she did because, in effect, she didn't take anything from me, and only stole from herself.

I figured if she was so desperate that she needed to steal money from me, then I would rather help her out than cause her to feel bad about what she had done. I believe that she wouldn't take anything more than loose change, and in her mind, she probably thought I could afford it and wouldn't even notice a few coins going missing. But my dilemma was that it isn't the money, but the principle that counts.

I think my subconscious mind deliberately put that money in front of her to test her. But, the real test came not for her, but for me in how I would react. I gave her no indication that I knew about her indiscretion. The hope is she has learned something, and in the future, will think about her actions and choose differently.

© Copyright 2024 Dr Gonzo (UN: neilfury at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Dr Gonzo has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1075615