I’m terrible at cleaning. My place is a mess. I admit it.
I try to clean—I really do. But I’m busy, and I’m rarely home, and I lose track of time, and… and… I can come up with any number of excuses, but all that matters is that I let the dust accumulate and the grime build up, and someone has to clean up my mess. That someone should be me, and I’m not doing a very good job of it.
So, I finally decided to hire a housekeeper.
But I was reluctant. Why? It was obvious: only rich people hire housekeepers, not people like me—only people who live in mansions and sip martinis by their pools. They have maids, chauffeurs, and butlers, while I squalor in my cramped apartment. I know this for certain, because I’ve seen it on TV.
Guess what? It turns out that lots of people hire housekeepers, even people like me. My coworkers and friends do so—some regularly, some occasionally, some once in a blue moon. And you can even find them on Care.com!
I still felt uncomfortable about it, though. How can I hire someone else to do my job for me? Doesn’t this mean that I’m being lazy? And I was weirded out by the notion of someone entering my home, touching my stuff, and taking on my menial responsibilities.
I tried to clean here and there, but I just couldn’t keep up with the grime. I broke down and finally decided to try a housekeeper. Just once, I convinced myself. I was having a small party, and I wanted my apartment to be spick-and-span—and I found it too hard to do.
I put up an ad, and a few people answered. I talked to the respondents that had relevant experience, decent prices, etc. I interviewed them and went through all the appropriate steps, until I found someone I liked—Roger (not his real name), a graduate student (his real profession) who was working part-time to support his way through school.
I still felt weird letting someone into my house… Having him do my work… Sweeping the floors… Washing the sink… Scrubbing the toilet… Isn’t this demeaning?
I ran out of the apartment in embarrassment until the work was done.
I came back, paid Roger, and was glad to see him go.
Then I looked around, and was struck: he did an AMAZING job. I was thrilled—with the work, with the apartment, and with him. Plus, that evening, the party was a success. But still, I had a nagging a feeling—I was glad to see him go, embarrassed to admit that I had hired a housekeeper, still thinking it was odd that I had someone else do my menial work. I was still uncomfortable with the whole thing.
A month later, I found myself missing the cleanliness Roger provided. I wanted someone to clean again. Someone to do the job that I couldn’t do. So, I gave Roger a call, he came over to clean, and again he did an amazing job. This time, I felt a little less embarrassed, and we even chatted a little bit.
A month later, I called him again. He cleaned, I was impressed, and I was hooked. We set up regular appointments, and I slowly learned to be OK with the whole thing, as I came to realize that this was his job. What he was doing—sweeping the floors, washing the sink, scrubbing the toilet—wasn’t demeaning. It was work that needed to be done, and he was doing the work. This was Roger’s job.
In short, I was Roger’s employer, and he was my employee. Roger was working a part-time job—he was a professional. A housekeeper is an expert who does a much better job with a mop and a scrub brush than I ever could. It’s a profession, and for some people it’s even a career. I have a career, too—I go to an office where I do my work, my boss is my employer, and I get paid for my work. It’s no different for housekeepers, except with them, the office is someone’s house. Employee, employer, pay—in the end, they’re all the same, even if the work and location differ. As it should be—and I’m comfortable with that.
Roger has long since graduated and moved on, but I’m still terrible at cleaning. So, I now have new professionals who clean my apartment, and I return to an apartment that is clean beyond belief, certainly beyond any level of cleanliness I could achieve on my own. And I’m no longer uncomfortable with hiring housekeepers, career employees who are great at their job, earning wages for their labor. I admit that I still run out of the apartment when they’re cleaning—but now it’s to get out of the way so that they can do their job, cleaning up my mess.
