I wake up with lunch already set on the table. Menus are thoroughly discussed in the evenings - with me having the privilege to choose the dish because I eat at home only during the day. I could afford to change the sheets every week since laundry is done regularly. The pile of dirty clothes we accumulate at any washday is enough for a family of five. We're only three in the house if you will exclude the servants and the pets in the counting. The water I use to take a bath is always warm. As I gobble my meal, the kettle whistles as it's being heated on the stove. When I feel lazy, it is the maids who go out to buy my needs. They throw out my trash, clean my carpet, wash my dishes and even bring the glass of water when I'm busy watching something on TV. When I don't like to be seen by the neighbors, it is the maids who cover up for me. I'm so privileged that my home life is entirely dependent on our helpers. Without them, I am virtually incapable of looking after myself.
That is why it scares us a lot when the maids hint of leaving the house to return to their families. That is why I'm willing to do the extremes by looking for a second job when our sources of income get threatened by economic factors.
I know some of you might think that we're almost within the borders of abusive treatment of our helpers. After all, the only thing missing is that they call us senyorito and senyorita for the favors we shamelessly sought from them. At times, I could get what I want without raising even my little pinky finger. All I have to do is say:
"Ate..."
In return for their dedication, I believe that our maids are one of the most spoiled in the industry. Had we been richer, they would be treated far better than many of their counterparts in the middle-income family category.
When our relatives in the US sent Balikbayan Boxes full of chocolates last month, it was the maids who received half of the bounty. They shared it with their friends in the compound of course, for they trade everything from bath soaps, toothpaste to leftovers from the neighbor's dining table. We let them dine together in the driveway when they decide to have a shared meal with the neighbors. We let them celebrate their birthdays by throwing a party in the compound with us supplying the drinks, the food, and even the cake they share with us in return. When my mom do her grocery at Puregold, the instant pancit cantons and the can of sardines are at our maid's disposal. They can eat whatever they want as long as they won't take those foods we sought ourselves.
These are just the perks. Our maids are spoiled because it is strictly forbidden for us to shout, become violent or verbally abuse them when they commit errors or not perform our orders. We understand their blunders as part of their natural shortcomings. We let them correct themselves when they are wrong. When they don't realize their errors yet, we let the seasoned helpers do the bidding for us.
I would have said more about the lives of our helpers, but the entry is not about them. It's not about our sheltered existence either. Such subject deserves another entry.
This post is about my realization that no matter how I pride myself by claiming that I can stand on my own and act tough on my own issues; that I can go out and have fun without any company and care in the world, the truth is, my total dependence on other's assistance in home affairs render me helpless in the face of others who live on their own.
So long as I can't:
Wash and iron my own clothes,
Cook my own meal,
Clean my dishes, and my own bathroom.
And take care of myself when I'm sick.
I'd most likely end up a trainwreck once you leave me to survive on my own devices.
This awakening only hit close to home after talking to several friends who actually live and survive without a family or helper nearby. For all the years I denied this vulnerability and believing that everything will remain sheltered, it opened my eyes to the reality that in terms of long-term survival,
I'd be severely crippled,
once I set sail and explore the open seas of my life,
on my own.
---
Thirteen years old pa lang ako, naiiwan na akong mag-isa ng parents ko.
- anon
That is why it scares us a lot when the maids hint of leaving the house to return to their families. That is why I'm willing to do the extremes by looking for a second job when our sources of income get threatened by economic factors.
I know some of you might think that we're almost within the borders of abusive treatment of our helpers. After all, the only thing missing is that they call us senyorito and senyorita for the favors we shamelessly sought from them. At times, I could get what I want without raising even my little pinky finger. All I have to do is say:
"Ate..."
In return for their dedication, I believe that our maids are one of the most spoiled in the industry. Had we been richer, they would be treated far better than many of their counterparts in the middle-income family category.
When our relatives in the US sent Balikbayan Boxes full of chocolates last month, it was the maids who received half of the bounty. They shared it with their friends in the compound of course, for they trade everything from bath soaps, toothpaste to leftovers from the neighbor's dining table. We let them dine together in the driveway when they decide to have a shared meal with the neighbors. We let them celebrate their birthdays by throwing a party in the compound with us supplying the drinks, the food, and even the cake they share with us in return. When my mom do her grocery at Puregold, the instant pancit cantons and the can of sardines are at our maid's disposal. They can eat whatever they want as long as they won't take those foods we sought ourselves.
These are just the perks. Our maids are spoiled because it is strictly forbidden for us to shout, become violent or verbally abuse them when they commit errors or not perform our orders. We understand their blunders as part of their natural shortcomings. We let them correct themselves when they are wrong. When they don't realize their errors yet, we let the seasoned helpers do the bidding for us.
I would have said more about the lives of our helpers, but the entry is not about them. It's not about our sheltered existence either. Such subject deserves another entry.
This post is about my realization that no matter how I pride myself by claiming that I can stand on my own and act tough on my own issues; that I can go out and have fun without any company and care in the world, the truth is, my total dependence on other's assistance in home affairs render me helpless in the face of others who live on their own.
So long as I can't:
Wash and iron my own clothes,
Cook my own meal,
Clean my dishes, and my own bathroom.
And take care of myself when I'm sick.
I'd most likely end up a trainwreck once you leave me to survive on my own devices.
This awakening only hit close to home after talking to several friends who actually live and survive without a family or helper nearby. For all the years I denied this vulnerability and believing that everything will remain sheltered, it opened my eyes to the reality that in terms of long-term survival,
I'd be severely crippled,
once I set sail and explore the open seas of my life,
on my own.
---
Thirteen years old pa lang ako, naiiwan na akong mag-isa ng parents ko.
- anon
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