Maid To Order

I'm still getting used to the fact that I have a maid. She's not mine really. She's my landlady's maid, but she cleans my flat too. Everybody has a maid or some sort of service worker. Even at the magazine, I don't get my own chai or prepare my lunch. We have someone who does that. Anyway, I think my maid likes me. I was told that she would clean the entire room and washroom except for the toilet. They don't do that. But my maid cleans my toilet. Everday. So she either likes me or thinks I'm completely helpless. She also took me grocery shopping and wouldn't let me carry anything. I've tried to be an independent woman since I was about five years old so it's often difficult for me to let anyone do anything for me. Ever. But despite my protests, she will not let me do anything.

And this morning, someone tried to take her place. Two minutes after she came to my flat, there was a knock and the door and a young woman was there speaking in a mix of Hindi and broken English. I shook my head apologetically, indicating that I didn't understand, but she persisted. Finally, my maid sternly said, "No, No!" to me and slammed the door in the woman's face. She was offering to do the work instead, probably for slightly less.

This is apparently not an uncommon occurance. I had lunch earlier this week with another American couple, also still adjusting to the hierarchy of service. They told me a story about how a young girl knocked on their door at 6:00 a.m. and said that their maid Asha left town for a week and she would replace her. Asha was in fact upstairs, asleep. The girl came back every half hour until Asha came down, had a screaming match with the girl and chased her away.