My cleaning lady and I have a routine: she walks in, asks if she can sit down, and I say yes and then offer her water. We usually talk for about 20 minutes or so about life, her daughter, the things I’m doing not to remain “encerrada” in the house all day. (I swear up and down that I like being home, but she doesn’t believe me.) Eventually she grabs her checkered smock and gets to work.
A few weeks ago, maybe five minutes into our conversation, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”
I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. A few days earlier, I’d read on Alice’s blog about how her doormen had asked her for money, and not knowing what to do and feeling weird, she gave it to them. A commenter said that whole experience was common, and that next time, she should pretend she didn’t have any cash, lest she be thought of as the American Bank Machine. I wondered if Lola was going to ask me the same thing.
“The thing is,” she began, “my phone is going to be shut off, because I haven’t paid my bill.”
The sinking feeling deepened.
“And… usually I would ask my other boss for a loan” — Lola has another job cleaning corporate apartments — “but I can’t right now, because his mother just died, and he’s been consumed with that.”
I nodded.
“So, I understand if you can’t, but I just thought I would ask: is there any way you could help me, and lend me the money to pay this bill?”
“Of course,” she added quickly, “you can take the money out of my check.”
I asked her how much it was, and she told me — it was about the equivalent of $100.
That’s not a huge amount for us, and we could probably pay it. But I felt offended and kind of ambushed that she was even asking, especially during our chit-chatty girls’ time. Hadn’t we kind of built a semi-friendship here, over these past few months? Didn’t she know that things would be stilted between us from now on, with this debt hanging over her head? Worst of all, after months of working for us, and me talking to her about my family and my life — had she only seen me as a bank the entire time?
I told her I needed to talk to Crayton first.
“Of course,” she said.
“When is the bill due?” I asked.
“Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow?
“Well,” I said, irritated, “let me run to the supermarket, which I have to do anyway, and I’ll call Crayton on my way there. I’ll let you know what he says.”
She thanked me profusely for even considering it.
On my walk to the grocery store, I tried to think about what to do. I called Crayton, but he didn’t pick up. My inclination was to pay the bill, because I knew she was good for her word. But I couldn’t get over the fact that she’d even asked me in the first place. Didn’t she know that was rude? Why was she not considering how this makes me feel? Was she secretly some sort of housekeeper con-artist who befriended her employer and then escaped with the cash?
Suddenly I realized how American I was acting. Maybe she didn’t know asking for money was rude. Maybe in Mexico, it isn’t rude, because so many people don’t have money and need it badly. Lola is a single mom who works cleaning houses, and the simple fact of the matter is, she can’t afford to pay her bills. And a home telephone line is like gold in this country. You need it to sign up for all sorts of services. Reconnecting a line costs hundreds of dollars.
I called my landlady, who is Mexican, to ask for advice, but she wasn’t home. I emailed an American friend who’s been in Mexico for two years and she basically said, follow your gut. I also finally reached Crayton. He told me he was fine with whatever I wanted to do.
I tried to recognize my American-money-attitude for what it was, and then push it aside. The core issue here was simple: Lola needed money. I had it. Worst comes to worst, we’d be $100 poorer, if she decided not to show up at work the next week. But I trusted that she’d come back.
When I got back from the grocery store, I told her yes, we’d pay the bill for her. But just this once.
“Of course, of course, I wouldn’t ask again,” she said. “I know you’re not rich. But I just thought, well, maybe they can help me.” Then she smiled a big smile, and thanked me over and over.
Since then — we’re going on about three weeks — life has been normal. She’s showed up to work just like she always has. She walks in, puts her stuff down, and asks to sit, and I say yes and offer her water. We chat. I turn on her favorite radio station, hits of the 70s and 80s, while she cleans the kitchen and the bathrooms.
My Mexican landlady did end up calling me back, by the way. She said it’s quite common for a housekeeper to ask for money.
“You’re not obligated to give her anything, but if you trust her, I would do it,” she said. “The fact is, they need it.”
I never asked Lola why she hadn’t paid her bill in five months. (Yes, it was five months overdue.) But she pays to send her daughter to school, so I’m guessing it was something having to do with that. I have my fingers crossed that this doesn’t happen again, because I would really, really hate to say no.
Lovely piece of writing, first of all, Lesley! And I’m impressed that you even had the courage to say “just this once.” I’m totally weak when it comes to these things! At least she gave you the option of subtracting it from her check. And, in her eyes, it probably made the friendship with you stronger, rather than less…
The longer that you live in Mexico the more this will happen and as time goes by you will learn the little game. I believe that it is a cultural thing and not something to be condemned but rather understood as having risen out of the mists of Mexico’s past. I have found that when I am asked for money, even though my American instincts dictate that I put my hand into my pocket and pull out the cash and give it to the borrower, I hesitate and then tell them that I can give them only half of what they are asking because I happen to be a little short myself. This is always accepted with no hard feelings. If they really need the money they will find the other half somewhere else. If they return the loan I am willing to do the same in the future but if they don’t return the loan I am not apt to repeat it. More often than not the loans are not repaid and generally “prestamos” become solicited gifts.
I am so glad you did this! One thing that is so different is that NOB even most people with low paying jobs have some access to credit. Here, there is none, or I should say no reasonable access to credit.
Our housekeeper asked me the other day if next time I was at Home Depot I would buy her a fan and she would pay me back 50 pesos a week. I said sure. I mean a FAN, in Mazatlan that is more than essential! But the 449 I paid for the fan would have cost her five times over with time payments to Coppel or Famsa. It just makes me mad. Many parents have to finance their kids school clothes and shoes at these places, too.
Cballi: Thank you! Glad you’re reading. And yes, the fact that she proposed subtracting the money from her check made me feel a lot better about the whole thing.
Bob: Thanks for your insight. I like your idea of only offering half — I think you commented similarly on Alice’s blog. If Lola happens to ask me again, I’d definitely consider doing that.
Nancy: You bring up an interesting point. So many families here don’t have access to credit, and in order to buy the things they need, they end up paying wild amounts of interest over the course of several years. I was at Telmex the other day and saw an advertisement for a laptop that offered something like a 50-month payment plan. FIFTY MONTHS! By the time you pay it off, the thing would be obsolete. Not to mention you’d have paid thousands of dollars for it. On one hand, it’s great that families with little cash have access to a laptop. But in the end I’m not entirely sure it’s worth it.
Lesely, I love you. Your story literally had me riveted. Thanks for sharing such insight into a different culture. I feel like I got to spend part of the afternoon in Mexico with you. Gracias!
And, of course, I meant to type Lesley.
I think your gut sense was right on this one. Even though she seemed to break an American rule-of-thumb, I think this was an “investment” worth making. Unlike our portero, who was needing money to feed his bad habits, Lola seemed like she genuinely needed it. I find that there isn’t a rule book on these types of things, just like there are varying rules on tipping — it depends on who’s asking, what for, how much, etc….
Reconnecting a phone after it’s been disconnected for failure to pay does NOT cost hundreds of dollars. Telmex will not let a phone bill become 5 months’ overdue; it will terminate service much, much sooner.
Bob’s approach of lending half the requested amount is absolutely on target. Borrowers are on to that trick, and they know to ask for twice as much as they might really need in the hopes of getting half.
If this is the first time you’ve been hit up for a loan, you haven’t lived here very long. And requests for loans don’t just come from servants; anyone who’s as little as half a notch down from your status will consider you fair game.
Sure, your maid needed the money. But stick the repayment schedule. And establish a rule that there will be no more loans until the previous one is paid in full.
You are so eloquent!!! I love that way you write, and I hope maybe one day, I could write simple and beatiful lines the way you do. Lovely! I keep on learning (grammar, vocabulary and common phrases) from you. Thanks a lot
OMG… LESLEY, this is happening to me too! My maid is asking me to donate and also help her rise $50 thousand dollars to pay for her son’s foot surgery. She has send a donation link to my email, phone and facebook. I totally ignore all the request. I am so glad to have found this article. Thank You for writing this.