a job

Sometimes I feel like all I do in my blog is complain. If you feel the same way, please skip this post.

My friend P said a woman who goes to our church, R, was in need of some help. She said she'd pay, that she wanted some young person to help her. She had some remodeling done on her house, and she needs to unpack boxes and get everything put back where it belongs. I really didn't want to do it. P asked me if I had any ideas about someone who could do it. I realized that there was no one but me. So I said I would.

Yesterday I called R, and after a little while, I got her to understand who I am. She didn't really know my name. We talked about when I could come help her. She asked me to name my rate. I said $10, which I think is about a rock bottom rate. I find that rate magnanimous of me. She talked to her husband about what day I could come, and slipped in that she would be willing to pay me $8 an hour. At this point we had already discussed timings, and I didn't feel like I could get out of it. So I agreed.

Now I'm stuck doing work I don't want to do at a rate I don't believe she could be so miserly as to suggest. She won't even tell me when. She says she'll call me. So I'm supposed to keep my schedule open for her and not make any plans all day Friday or Saturday in case that's when she wants to do it. She says she needs her husband to be there to help decide what to do with the papers and things. I don't see how I will be useful at all. "I already have a cleaning lady," R explained. "She cleans the bathroom and the kitchen and vacuums the floors," she explained. She was trying to make me understand that I wouldn't be cleaning. I wonder how much she pays the cleaning lady.