What would you do if you walked into the kitchen to find your cleaning lady using your bazillion dollar Global paring knife to chisel burnt cheese off of the microwave turntable dish thingy? If she saw you, spoke to you and continued along like it was the most normal cleaning tool to be using for the purpose at hand?
Me, personally, I was unable to process. Shut down. Couldn't feel my appendanges and had to leave. Immediately. That's how non-confrontational I can be. Now, she's gone. I'm home. Upon inspecting my knife, she didn't even wash it!!!
Here's the bigger problem - cleaning ladies and me. Well, mostly me, I think. I want someone who actually cleans as well as or better than I am able to clean when I chose to actually clean. See, I figure if I'm paying you to clean, then that's what you do - clean. Am I wrong on this one? I also have fairly high standards, like pick shit up when you wipe down my counters and actually wipe the stuff all the way off my counters. If you aren't sure you got it all, run your hand over it. If you hit a bump, you missed something.
I haven't had a cleaning person in a while because I didn't feel it was justified since I'm not employed for any sort of income and because I always end up so damn frustrated. However, I also have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to keeping up the house. So, I figured hiring someone to come clean forces me to at least tidy up the place on a regular basis. So far, so good. I'm keeping up my end of the plan.
Now, WTF? My knife. Geez. I mean, throw a wet rag on the cheese and it'll come off in a few minutes - sans knife. AGGGGGHHHHHH!
Perhaps I should just start hosting a persnickety book group every other week, one that wears white gloves and checks under the rim of my toilet. We could read non-fiction books on organization, decluttering and speed-cleaning.