After cleaning the house waiting for the cleaner to arrive. And after being the recipient of some pretty heavy judgement from her, I realized how much using an app for a house cleaner was like Tinder Dating.
Well, not that I've used Tinder dating. The whole idea of swiping and being swiped fills me with anxiety. And I want to be clear, that choosing my cleaner on the app was nothing like Tinder in that way...I didn't have to find a match, go off a picture, peruse her profiles and swipe.
I'm just saying, that from what I've been told. It's pretty similar. Like, the same thing.
In that, firstly, you have to put stuff in a notes section, which is kind of like a profile. Because on the face of it, I am a 1 bed 1 bath standard apartment. But of course, who is standard? So I had to put stuff in the notes like, 'please don't just bring a Swiffer for the kitchen floor, it's not a Swiffer kind of floor, it's old, it has an old surface, and it gets like really dirty, so you'll need...well, it's alright, I have a mop and a scrubbing brush for it...' Oh god, will that put off potential cleaners? Should I edit it? 'I have a mop!!!!! 'smiley face' ' No that's a bit passive aggressive...I should just be able to say it like it is....and I'm a writer, right? 'The floor is 1940's but the dirt is 2016...only it looks like it's 1940's..vintage dirt lol' oh no, this wasn't going well.
I settled with 'I have a mop for the kitchen floor, it takes more than a Swiffer'
And worried about it, thinking I would just deal with it 'on the day'.
Cleaner number one was a single parent of two children in a trench coat and heels. As she dragged her suitcase and vacuum up the stairs, I worried that the neighbors would think there was a weird S&M thing happening in my apartment on Saturday morning. She was delightful, the heels came off at the front door, but the trench coat never did, she opened her suitcase to reveal a selection of environment shattering bleaches and cleaning products, rags, brushes...I forgot to put in my profile I was a chemical free home, well, I just thought, it made me look...precious....and well, I was fine wearing a mask for a day while the fumes exited through every window and door I could open. Scaredy cat....But have you ever tried to say to a woman in a trench coat, 'I'd rather you use baking soda and white vinegar'. Besides, one she looked at my 'surfaces' and clucked in a judgmental way, how could I be the one to suggest a different way..after all, I was the one paying for a cleaner, right?
She spent an hour of the 2 hour booking in the bathroom, and I'd never thought of myself as a dirty bathroom person, but I think cleaning people like the joy of cleaning a bathroom, it's so easy to use all those products and rags and brushes and then get a sparkling wonderful surface!
I encouraged her to venture forth into the rest of my shoebox sized apartment, and I felt like I 1950's housewife, with huge sweeping arm movements and walking backwards, urging her to view my other surfaces and to make them gleam. Please.
A month later, cleaner number two heralded her arrival with grunts and the dragging of a crate on a cart being thumped, up the stairs outside my apartment....as I was still 'en pajama' (that's French for it was early and I was still in my PJ's and couldn't wait to get back to bed)..I didn't go to help her, and then felt guilty as this 60+ woman, finally knocked on the door huffing and panting...A sensible, no nonsense type, no trench coat and heels, this was a European woman who looked like she could create a shine on the undercarriage of my Prius! Madeleine dragged her vacuum and crate on wheels through my door casting a disapproving glance around my apartment....'Do vat you like, lessen music vat you like...no matter to me'
I took control. 'I would like you to start in the kitchen please'...Concerned glance...'...because the last cleaner spent an hour in the bathroom' 'Vell, she vas crazy yes?...I am muzzer I haf seen everysink'
As I wrapped myself in my fleece robe and prepared 'surfaces' for an easy clean by removing all objects into two Wholefoods bags....I tried to anticipate her every move....She looked up from her mop..well my mop...'Are you alright, you don't look alright?' 'I just have a sniffle..that's why I'm in my robe.....and I want to make it easy for you...because it's small here...and not much room' and I was aware I was chattering crazily...
Finally, I just took myself to bed, reading a magazine, listening to her pottering away, feeling the guilt that only a woman who is using her food budget to clean her house can understand...What emotion was I feeling? Lazy...is lazy an emotion? Lazy is a verb surely? As I lay pondering this...she announced she 'vas done'.
Then...'come into ze bars rum...you nid to see somezing' I shuffled along beside her in my old lady slippers..the comfy ones, not the feather topped mules I normally save for such occasions.... We were in my bars rum...'See zis bars? It vas.....' I interrupted her....'no it wasn't dirty...it's just that it's old....and..' she interrupted me 'no, I verked on it....look, I haf scrubbed it and look'....and there was my 1940's old bathtub GLEAMING, fricken GLEAMING!!!!!! She stood up, hands on hips, smiling wildly....I congratulated her....tipped her my HBOgo money and helped her down the stairs with her crate on wheels.
Before she left, she urged me to give her 5 stars, as people often only give her 1 star mistakenly believing that THAT means an excellent job. I promised I would. We parted like friends who'd met on a 10 day cruise but without the hug and the swapping of numbers.
Yeah...just like Tinder...would I use her again...I guess...unless someone better came along...