My confidence in dealing with the first group of minor details wasn’t misplaced.
When I told Mrs Magnolia that there were hard times in the world of handmade dinnerware that made it imperative for me to make more money than she was giving me, she was as philosophical as you might expect of someone who is plagued by migraines and who works in used clothes.
“The small business is an endangered species in this country,” she said. “Tell your mother she has my sympathy.”
I said I knew my mother would appreciate that.
When I told Karen I had a job as a chambermaid she said, “You? The girl who thinks the floor is an extension of her closet?”
I told her I’d heard of many professional gourmet chefs who eat baked beans and frozen dinners at home. “A job is different to life,” I said.
“That’s what you think,” said my mother.
Ella picked me up at seven-thirty the next morning. We were silent all the way to the travel lodge because Ella wasn’t capable of speech yet and wasn’t willing to listen to mine.
A maroon people carrier was pulling out of the parking lot as we pulled in.
“Look!” I cried. “It’s Charley Hottle! We just missed him!”
“Don’t scream like that,” Ella ordered. “I nearly went into shock.”
At last, the wall of hostility that Fate had constructed around me was starting to crumble. “Oh, this is so definitely the break we needed. I wonder how long our shift is? Maybe we’ll still be here when he gets back.”
Ella pulled into a space that said Employee Parking. “If we are I hope we’re getting overtime,” she grumbled.
It was barely eight o’clock and already Mrs Seiser looked like she’d had a long, hard day. She sounded like it too.
“It’s one thing after another with these movie people,” she informed us as soon as we stepped into the lobby. “They never stop. Where’s this? Where’s that? Why can’t you? Why didn’t you? What happened to? Yadayadayada morning, noon and night. They must all have servants.” Mrs Seiser sniffed. “Servants or slaves. And of course Gracia’s cousin Paloma’s supposed to be helping us out, but she didn’t turn up at all today.” She lowered her voice to a confidential level. “Those people are so unreliable. They have no sense of loyalty and commitment.” She gave another disapproving sniff. “And of course they don’t really like to work. You have to keep on them every minute.”
I wasn’t sure which people she was talking about – maids? People who are helping you out? Women named Paloma? – but I stood up tall and smiled confidently so that she’d know I wasn’t to be counted among their number. “We can’t wait to get started,” I assured her. “We’re both imbued with a very strong work ethic.”
“It’s nice to know someone is,” said Mrs Seiser. “And thank God you’ve got some experience, I don’t have even a few seconds this morning for a heavy training session. I’ve got to go and see what happened to the laundry. Come on, I’ll go through the formalities and then Gracia will show you where everything is. If you have any questions, ask her.”
The formalities included giving us algae-green housecoats, plastic nametags, yellow rubber gloves, and ticking off our duties on her fingers – twice.
Up until the moment Mrs Seiser handed me my nametag it had never occurred to me that it was possible to misspell “Lola”.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Mrs Seiser. “We know who we mean.”
Then she gave us each a photocopy of her own original composition: RULES FOR CLEANERS. Mrs Seiser has more rules than the Old Testament. Don’t do this … don’t do that … don’t even think about doing that… Just about the only thing a cleaner was allowed to do besides work was breathe.
“Any questions?” asked Mrs Seiser when she was done.
I cleared my throat. “I was just wondering… What about our breaks?”
Mrs Seiser’s employees’ smile wasn’t as welcoming as her possible-guest smile. “Excuse me?”
I repeated my statement. “Isn’t it a law that we get at least two breaks a shift?”
“Oh, of course.” Mrs Seiser looked down at the sheet of paper in her hand. “Isn’t it there?”
I shook my head. “I don’t see it.”
“Well it should be there.” She made it sound like it was my fault that it wasn’t. “Two fifteen-minute breaks and a half hour for lunch.”
“We got an hour for lunch at school.”
Mrs Seiser allowed her lips to part very slightly so I’d think she was smiling. “This isn’t school.”
“Well, that should make you happy,” muttered Ella.
Mrs Seiser got up from her desk. “If there aren’t any more questions, it’s time you two— Lola? You’ve got another question?”
“Where’s the staff room?”
“Excuse me?” I’d never really realized before how threatening politeness can be.
“The staff room.” I smiled an eager, good-employee kind of smile. “You know … where we take our breaks? Rule 12 says we’re not allowed to loiter on the premises. And Rule 11 says we’re not allowed to eat, drink or smoke on the premises either.”
“You can go to the diner next door.”
I opened my mouth. “But—”
Mrs Seiser gave me a stern look. “I hope you’re not going to be a trouble-maker, Lola. I gave you this job out of the goodness of my heart. Gracia does have other relatives, you know.”
I think I may have seen too many movies featuring señoritas with dark, flashing eyes, long black hair, rustling skirts and shawls because Gracia didn’t look anything like I expected. She was in her forties, her hair was short and blonde, her eyes were blue, her glasses were thick, and she wore jeans, a faded Lakers sweatshirt and trainers from somewhere like Shoe City.
“Not Mexico,” she corrected me. “From Colombia.”
Gracia’s husband had been killed by paramilitaries.
“What was he, some kind of guerrilla?” asked Ella.
Gracia said no, he worked for Coca-Cola and was active in the union. After he was murdered she took the children and fled.
Gracia showed us where the supplies were kept and instructed us on the most efficient way to do our tasks (bathroom, bedroom, vacuum the hall when you’ve done all the rooms).
“Don’t you worry,” said Gracia. “Once you get accustomed to the things, you’ll be swimming like ducks.”
“Do you really take your break in the diner?” I asked her.
“If you break it, you buy it,” said Gracia.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that.” That was rule 17. “I meant a break from work. You know, a rest.”
“No rests,” Gracia informed me. “There is no time.”
Although, technically, we were paid by the hour, you didn’t leave until your allotted tasks were done.
“But then you get overtime,” said Ella.
“Exacto,” said Gracia. “That’s when your time is over.”
Because we were new, Gracia suggested that Ella and I do the rooms together until we’d had some practice.
“You do the ground and I’ll do arriba,” she said, and disappeared up the stairs.
It took me three attempts to open the first room with my electronic key, and when I did it wasn’t worth all the trouble.
“Good God!” gasped Ella as we stepped inside. “Look at this place! It looks like a pigsty!”
My eyes went slowly around the room. It wasn’t a big room, but it was full. The token chair was piled with clothes, most of the bedding was on the floor, and there were dirty glasses, food containers and empty beer bottles on every available surface, including the floor.
“I think you’re doing a grave injustice to the pigs of this world. They don’t usually leave their condom wrappers lying around.” I picked up the wrapper with my gloved hand. God knew where the contents of the wrapper was, but I for one was not going to look under the bed.
“It’s unbelievable.” Ella seemed to be frozen by the door with horror. “I mean, these are intelligent, professional people – not a bunch of kids who were raised by wolves. It’s a good thing my mother never had to do this job. It would’ve killed her.”
There was something disgusting floating in half a glass of beer.
“This job may not kill me,” I said, “but I think it’s definitely going to make me sick.”
Ella’s eyes turned to the bathroom door. “I’m afraid to look in there.”
I didn’t see how it could be worse than the bedroom.
“I’ll toss you.” I took a coin from my pocket. “Heads I do in here, tails you do it.”
Armed with brushes, cloths and disinfectant, Ella went into the bathroom looking like Indiana Jones being lowered into a pit of snakes.
She was out again in under five seconds.
“I can’t,” she said, her face contorted with disgust. “There are hairs in the shower and the toilet’s filthy.”
“Hairs?”
Ella nodded. “You know…” She looked like there was a skunk loose in the room.
“Oh,” I sighed. “You mean hairs.” This job was like being a housewife, only you didn’t even get a card and a bunch of flowers for Mother’s Day. “I don’t suppose there’s a hose in the cart.”
“You and your rites of passage,” muttered Ella. “Next time, let’s try one of the other ones. Like getting married. At least people give you presents.”
I took a deep breath to prepare myself for tackling the bathroom. “You’d still end up having to clean the toilet,” I said.