Confessions of a Cleaning Lady

The California Girl

So we picked up a new place recently, word of mouth from another of our clients (actually they're all word of mouth) so minimal maintenance from a selling point of view.

The people have newly moved to our fair city of music from LA. Now, I really liked living in LA, I lived there for a year to follow a promotion in my former life before husbands and kids and responsibilities that actually mattered. I found the people to be surprisingly down to earth and welcoming despite the usual stereotypes about the city of angels. One stereotype that was definitely true though was the leather pants. Everyone in LA wore leather pants. I dunno, rock stars.

This family consists of a young husband and wife and two small children ages 3 and 1. I've never actually met the three year old- he goes to a local Montessori school every day so he doesn't live there until after work I guess.

The mom has housecleaners every other week. And a nanny once a week. And landscapers who come whenever she beckons. I'm not real sure what she does other than go through her closets and yoga, but hey, whatever works.

I wasn't too sure if I liked this woman from the get-go. I have to admit, I'm somewhat of a class snob. I don't trust people with a lot of money and a lot of luxury and a lot of free time but too much stress. I get anxiety, trust me, we're old friends. I just don't get people who don't understand that it's not the norm for people to actually have someone else do everything else for them. Not everyone does that. I get the impression she thinks everyone does.

The first time I suspected she was going to be high maintenance was before I had even met her. She told Lou that she was "super laid back" and it should be pretty easy peasy to clean her house because she's not persnickety about anything. Red Flag. The house took twice as long to clean than usual.

Word to the wise, it's a major faux pas to ask your cleaner to stop cleaning the bathroom because you need to get in there to take a shower unless you have GOT to get it knocked out to get out the door.

Again, nanny. Preschool. No f***ing where to be. She really didn't have to take a shower RIGHT THEN.

It wouldn't have been a big deal if it weren't for the fact that I had already cleaned the shower. Now, a shower is a major pain in the ass to clean, especially if it's someone else's. There's something very personal about it, and cleaning up the space where people shave and wash their bodies is a little unsettling for some reason- mildew and soap scum and hard water stains notwithstanding. The worst is when people use bar soap with no soap holder that offers any drainage. You'd be surprised the instinctual reaction of aversion to someone else's slimy soap.

So she got into her sparkling shower to f*** it up again. So I could go clean up the soap slime and the shaving scum and dry it all out all over again. But really, we aim to please.

ALLLL that aside, the one that really did it for me was last week. I can roll my eyes at someone hundreds of times and still smile at them genuinely. Until they expose themselves as a complete f***ing snob.

I'm cleaning the kitchen, Lou's dusting and doing the floors in the living room. California girl is hanging around the living room carrying around a laundry basket with dozens of pairs of jeans in it. Her sister's there helping her sort through her closets and she has "SO many pairs of expensive jeans that she totally has just been holding on to for no reason!"

She looks at me, then at Lou. Lou is a small girl, she was athletic in college and high school so she still has that athlete's body. I am not. I still have that beer drinking partying body from high school and college.

"Do you know any teenagers who might want these jeans?" she asks Lou. "I've had them forever, they were super expensive and I don't just want to throw them away or give them to goodwill or whatever."

"I could use some new jeans, can I look 'em over?" Lou asks her.

Make no mistake, Lou does perfectly well for herself. If she really wanted to be foolish, she could afford to spend ridiculous money on a pair of jeans. She just doesn't because she's got better things to put her money toward. But hey, if someone's giving them away, might as well raise your hand, right?

"Oh...." says California. "I guess they'd fit you..."

OMG. I wanted to slap her. Not just for the maaaaaajor misjudgment of Lou's tiny frame. Really mainly for the fact that she even exists.

After this awkward moment, we make small talk. I ask her where in LA she is from, and she rattles off some town I've never heard of. She explains its way south on the coast, and I realize she's on the Orange County border, probably some posh area around Laguna Beach or Newport Beach. Nowhere near where I lived. I nod. Well how nice.

Lou mentions to her at this point that I lived in LA for a bit as well. She proceeds to ask me where I lived.

Now, I lived in East LA. In a town called Whittier. I was a single girl, working a LOT and trying to make it on my own. Whittier was as close to my office as I could afford and it was NOT a particularly posh area. It wasn't a s***hole, but it wasn't Laguna.

"Oh, wow..." she muses "that's really inland."

"Yes, yes it is. East of east LA pretty much." I reply matter-of-factly, ignoring the look on her face as if she's smelling someone's farts.

"Well, Nashville is definitely better than Whittier!" she proclaims. Out loud.

She doesn't know me from Adam's cat- for all she knows I could've met the love of my life and he's born and bred there. It could've been my favorite place on the planet ever. For all she knows I could've really taken that comment personally.

The truth is, I did. Not because I am attached in any way to Whittier California, but because she had the nerve. It was insulting and snobby and ridiculous for her to say.

That was the dealbreaker for me. It also got me thinking.

If you've read any of these posts about my musings about our clients, you'll notice that I am somewhat political. By somewhat political I mean I think our president is the worst thing to happen to the human race since ticks were made.

So it occurred to me- this woman is exactly why people voted for Trump. This snobby, elitist, Lululemon wearing, all organic eating, natural baby product using, avocado loving bitch is exactly why people don't relate to each other any more.

I TRIED. I swear I did, even though I had the nagging suspicion I wasn't gonna have a ton of things in common with her, I am more than happy to find commonalities. It's what I do best.

Then she HAD to get elitist on me. She HAD to insult the city in which I lived 20 years ago because it wasn't up to her palm tree beachfront property standards. She HAD to prove that there is, in fact, a whole segment of our society which looks down on all of us who don't shop at Whole Foods.

It was a little heartbreaking. On that sad day- the alt right got just a little right-er.