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greyzone · 7 years ago

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JEN-SMASH!!! Part 3 (final)

Ok, so the cleaner calls me. And I answer in my serious tone, ‘Hello, Jennifer speaking’. And this beautiful sounding West Indies woman begins explaining why they’ve been told to stop, the payment structure and the additional fee. And alI I am doing, is talking over the top of her and repeating my buzz words, 'miscommunication', 'disappointing' and 'refund'. I remind them that we’ve already paid - they were right there with my partner when he made the transfer. I bark about the additional fee (which was for the windows by the way. Aren’t windows a part of an apartment?) and then someone else comes on the line, taking over. (I mean, I would have as well, if I’d heard me yapping away). But this doesn’t go down well as I am not getting what I want in this conversation.

So I end the call with something to the effect of, 'well, we’ve already paid you, so please continue the clean but it's disappointing that the communication between the company you work for and yourself is so inefficient, that we need to be having this conversation'. (I did actually say please. So, that’s a bonus point I guess?)

SIGH.

I call back the cleaning company and happen to speak with the same girl as before. OH GAWD! And like she is reading it out of a text book, she adds that ‘the amount I was told initially, wasn’t a quote, but simply a guideline as the cleaners need to evaluate the property and come to a decision upon inspection’. Firstly, where did you pull this one from? And secondly, don’t go all ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ on me with your ‘guidelines’ shit because I was given different information. And I’m sure I know ‘Pirates’ better than you do, because I was one, twice a week, for 4 years. But that’s pointless in this conversation. (I didn't say this, but it’s definitely worth mentioning lol).

ANYWAY - we had already scrubbed that place like a mother-fucker the day before to ensure that between our clean and the professional clean, getting our BOND back was a given. I didn’t say it like that to her exactly either - because, I have found from previous experience, that when you swear at someone over the phone, you are deemed the irate caller and basically nothing will get resolved until you ‘calm down’. Lessons learnt! So, instead, I tried to be light about it and attempted to smile so that that could shine through in my tone - but most likely not very successfully. I think I may have laughed at one point - which now that I think about it, was probably a very patronising move. And of course, because Veronica loves to have the final say, little miss saucy curtly finishes the call with a 'if we're not 100% happy with the work, I'll let you know'. FUCK MY LIFE. Now that that conversation is over, I sit in my office, with the hum of my computer and the occasional flicker of the fluorescent lights as my only company and I think to myself - when did I turn into this person? This angry little woman, ready to explode and emotions steamrolling everyone around me. I literally put my head in my heads and giggle because how ridiculous this whole thing has become - and because I’m the one making it so. I am literally the human version of 'Angry' in Disney's 'Inside Out'.

A minute or two passes as I sit in silence, listening to my breathing (wooooo saaaah) And instead of owning the error of my ways and calling the cleaner to apologise for being so curt, I text. That's right, once again, hiding behind my phone like the coward I am, I TEXT the cleaner. AND I even don't apologise. I say, 'it's a shame there was a miscommunication'. Why should I apologise when I feel hard done by? YES - I feel hard done by - over $20 and paying via online transfer. And then, a moment of clarity blurs Veronica and suddenly I am thrown into a tornado of guilt. I feel like I am a racist, privileged little white girl, who's having a tantrum because she didn't get a pony. I'm throwing my duty or care, lucidity and kindness to the wind.

Well done, Jen, well done.

A few hours pass and I receive a text from the cleaner saying, ‘we’re almost finished, please get here asap’. I call!!! I actually call and say that because I am a selfish coward and don’t want to face you, please leave the keys on the kitchen bench. HAHA - kidding! I lied, I said that unfortunately I can't be there for another hour and if they could leave the keys, that would be great. I give it about half an hour before I leave and when I arrive, OF COURSE, they are still there!!! Getting my comeuppance, you see! She’s there and so are three other people. Four people in total cleaning a ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT! But, I can only assume that these three people are her children. And so, once again I am slapped in the face with pangs of guilt.

I make the assumption that she is a single, hard working mum with mouths to feed. And so, I open my mouth to say something and my internal monologue is working overtime. I am apologising profusely for my behaviour, for how I dealt with the situation. But then, I'm suddenly thinking about my ex-mother in law who's from the West Indies too and I feel like talking about her and comparing jerk chicken recipes. I'm going all white girl on the whole thing. I want to say how appreciative I am that they're there and have worked so hard to ensure that the clean is perfect. Yet, all I say is, ‘thank you’, I take the keys and the receipt and walk away.

I hop on motorobike to head to the real estate agency to hand back our keys, and for about three quarters of the drive there, this woman and her children are in the van behind me. FAAAARRRRK.

As we drive along, I ponder whether I would have reacted in a different way if it was somebody else. I’m suddenly asking myself if I’m racist? But then again, Suzy-Q from the cleaning company, sounded ‘white’ and I did not back down with her. Mind you - voices do not determine ones ethnicity - so again - racist.

But I did come to this conclusion;

I would have reacted the same way with anyone because I have a very quick trigger. My anger is a late bloomer and Veronica loves the spotlight.

My ever-patient boyfriend tells me, that if I felt as though my emotions were warranted, then I shouldn't feel bad about my reaction. But holy fuck - what a reaction. And I know that there are wonderful, beautiful women out there who are in control. Who are cool, calm and collected. Who do keep their wits about them in times of confrontation. I've met them! Some of my closest friends fall in this category. And I'm envious. Cos I'm the little brat who has trantrums and spits the dummy when it doesn't go my way. Maybe they’re better at life because they meditate.

Maybe they’re better at life because they do yoga.

Maybe they’re better at life because they don’t drink alcohol. But I'm not one of those people (as she sips on a glass of red). I'd like to think, that I'm not the only person who reacts this way. That there are other 30 something women in the same boat - not knowing how to properly deal with their shit and have their own Veronica’s ready to pounce at any minute. I’m not doing a call out for help. I am just figuring it all out.

So if you can relate to this late blossoming of anger, if you have your own Veronica, or if you simply handle situations as tragically as I do, hit me up!

Let me know!

You’re not alone.

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