You Can't Get Good Help Any More, Dammit! by Jenny Gardiner

Last week I did it. I finally did it. I fired my maid.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t a nice enough person; she was perfectly fine. But I was tired of her insubordination. Tired of her meager skill set, which was sorely lacking. Tired of trying to get her to do the things that needed to be done on a regular basis.

I mean, the dishes were stacked up to my eyeballs, but would she do them on her own? No.

My floors were littered with dog hair, tumbleweeds of fur blowing across the hardwoods each time the air conditioner switched on. But would she vacuum? No. Heaven forbid she actually mop, even if she did run the Hoover once every blue moon.

Oh, there were other problems, as well. Signs of mildew forming in the showers. Icky build-up in the toilets. Need I say more?
It’s not that I didn’t try with her. I gave her every chance that I could. Many a pep talk was presented in order to get the maid to get her act together. I warned her that her days were numbered. I told her that we weren’t pleased with her performance. I even offered plenty of incentives.

But nothing improved.

Oh, there were some good times, I can’t deny it. Like when she worked like a whirling dervish, cleaning in a trance-like frenzy late into the evening, before company was slated to arrive. The times when at least one room at a time shone, it was so clean. But these occasions became fewer and further between.

It just became obvious that I could no longer rely upon her dubious cleaning prowess, and it was then that I decided I’d be doing her a favor by letting her go.

Now that I’ve cut the cord, I feel a great sense of relief. I mean, really, it was for the best.

The only problem is this: now that I’ve fired myself from cleaning my house, who will do it for me?