Nu, you may ask, what type of title is “Maid for a Day”? A good question. There once was a television program called “Queen for a Day.” (Does anyone remember?) It made a tsimmis (big deal) of one lucky lady from the TV audience who was chosen to be queen and receive her special wish – anything from a special bed for a handicapped child to a housekeeper to replace her while she recovered from surgery. She got many other prizes, too. The audience ah-ed and oo-ed as the gifts were presented, making all the vibelach (wives) jealous. When she received a free trip to the Bahamas, the olam went wild with envy.
Nu, times have changed, but the need for household service remains. Our vibelach run large, bustling households – they might work outside the house, as well – and therefore employ a “maid for a day.” This is considered a prize for the lady of the house, right? Doss hayst (that means) that, with a maid, she is a queen for a day. Lozz mihr zehn (let’s explore that possibility).
Once upon a time, a maid was called a helfer (helper). The Israelis still refer to her as an ozeret, a helper, and describe the ozeret as either good or toygen in drerd (not so great). Currently, maids are called “residential cleaners.” That’s only right, considering that a trash collector is called a “sanitary engineer,” someone who cuts your grass a “landscape architect,” a house painter a “decorator,” and a store clerk a “sales consultant.” But that’s another article.
My earliest recollection of a maid is from Milan, Italy. (We lived in Italy until the Fascist anti-Semitic laws drove us out (baruch Hashem!). Her name was Lina (name changed), and she came highly recommended. Initially she was an efficient worker, but one cloudy day she became ah nandreh mentch (a different person).
Vee azoy (how so)? you may ask. Iz dehr enfehr (the answer is) she became an admirer of that chaiyeh Benito Musolini, yimach shmo, who aligned himself with the other chaiyeh, Hitler, yimach shmo. Consequently, she began uttering anti-Semitic comments while bragging about her wonderful Benito. One fateful day, a black shirt Fascist parade passed our residence. Lina ran to the porch, and as the parade passed she gave the parade participants a fascist salute. This was observed by the family and was the “last straw.” The next day, she was fired; the reason given was her wasting too much time, because if the real reason were known, she would have reported us to the fascist authorities, and we would been in gehakteh tsoress (real trouble).
Another maid was hired, and she too was good fahr kaporess (not so good). Fahrvoss (why)? you may ask. Iz dehr enfehr (the answer is) that she took the children for walks – but not only for fresh air. One morning, she took my sister Hinda for a tour of the nearby cathedral. After entering the building, she gave Hinda a white robe and told to repeat kirch (church) litany! Can you imagine such a thing!
After returning home, Hinda uttered vair vais voss (who knows what) litany, and my parents iz nisht giht gevohren (got sick). After questioning her about her walks with the maid, they were flabbergasted. And so another maid bit the dust, so to speak.
After we migrated to the U.S., we settled in Baltimore, Maryland, once called the “Yerushalayim of America.” Yerushalayim it wasn’t, and we experienced some trials and tribulations, but we were thankful that we had escaped from Europe.
We moved into a Jewish neighborhood (if you want to know more about Jewish life in East Baltimore, read my 2006 article in the wherewhatwhen.com archives, called “Cholent in East Baltimore”) and eventually, our financial status improved. It was getting close to the holiday of Passover, and my mom needed assistance, because she prepared for Pesach like no other person I know or knew! A maid was therefore hired to assist in the tedious preparation.
The maid was recommended by the neighbors. In addition to the usual cleaning chores, Martha (name changed) did the laundry. We did not own a washing machine. In those “good old days,” the laundry was placed in the bathtub and scrubbed against a bumpy board called a vash braytle. We children were fascinated watching her. Fahrvoss (why)? you may ask. Iz ahzoy (it’s like this): After filling the tub with hot soapy water, she tossed the laundry into the water and began scrubbing the clothes against the braytle while chewing a pack of gum. Suddenly, she stopped moving her arms, grasped part of the gum from her mouth and proceeded to pull out a long string of the sticky stuff. Next she sucked the gum back into her mouth! She repeated this feat with each item that she washed while humming a tune. Martha had a captive audience, which included kids who lived in the neighborhood that were invited to witness the scene.
Martha (name changed) was the “queen” of helpers. In her prime, she was shtark vee ah faird (strong as a horse). Doss hayst (that means) that before dusting under the bed, she would lift and move part of the bed with one hand! Martha was hired by my Aunt Pessa Lichtenstein, and she served the family for many years. To get “The Martha” to work for you at any time was a major accomplishment, and when Pesach rolled around, it was easier to move a mountain than to “borrow” her services.
Nu, the years rolled by “in a flash,” and Martha was now referred to as the “nisht vee ah mohl (not like in her youth).” She now required assistance moving furniture and doing some of her chores. She worked for a few more years and then retired.
Regarding helpers in our household, voss kehn ich deer zogen (what can I tell you)? Some folks had mazel.
* * *
The years passed. Now, my vibel and I had our own household, with unique helpers. Our first helper was known as Betty (name changed). She wore a unique outfit which was from another era. Her good midda was that she was always punctual. Whether it rained, snowed, or vehr vays (who knows) what kind of weather. One day there was a fierce winter blizzard. We believed that no living being would walk outdoors in the ferocious winds. Upon peering out the window, however, we spotted what appeared to be a walking snowman. Sure enough, it was Betty. She finally arrived, totally covered with snow. After defrosting, Betty began her chores azoy vee ess volt gornisht geven (as if nothing happened). During the summer months, an anticipated hurricane, or a hail storm – it did not matter. Rain shmayn, abih gezunt (just so you’re healthy) was her attitude, and as we kids peered out a window and spotted her coming, we learned a lesson about responsibility.
Before beginning her chores, Betty ate her favorite breakfast food, herring and bread. She then ate her coffee delight, literally, by filling the spoon with instant coffee granules and ingesting them directly from the container. After two more coffee fixes, she dipped a fork in her personal herring jar and ended her breakfast with a cigarette. All in all, ah mychel for a bychel (a digestive oy vey)!
After breakfast, Betty began “making order” in each room. Voss kehn ich deer zogen (what can I tell you)? Before you could complete the morning newspaper, she was ready for lunch. Did she accept the food placed on the table for her? Not a chance! She preferred her favorite food: herring, this time with matza, and coffee!
One day we heard an explosive-like sound. Upon approaching the area, we saw a shattered ceramic lamp on the floor. Without batting an eye, Betty called out, “The dog did it.” “So where is the dog?” she was asked. “He ran away,” she answered. Nu, go argue with Betty or question the dog.
Like other maids, Betty “faded away” – though she must have worked for others, because for a while we saw her waiting for the bus wearing the same “vintage warrior” expression and the same shmahteh coat.
If you believe that Betty was a marvel, hare zich tsue (give a listen) about Matilda (name changed), who was hired to assist us during the evening hours. Arising at night to feed and change the diapers of a new baby was difficult, and that’s why we hired her. Her assistance was very limited, because at times she began dremling (sleeping) and we were back to doing the chores.
During the day Matilda disappeared. Vee iz zee gekrochen (where did she disappear to)? To the basement, where she chain smoked until the place smelled like a smokers’ lounge! We wished her a tsayschem leshalom (go in peace) and aired the house for a few days.
Time moved on, and we survived without a maid. One day, we decided to try again. After interviewing several candidates, we hired another maid. She was nisht gefehrlich (not great) but did her job. However, there was a problem. She liked children like Obama likes Netanyahu! Unfortunately, she began poking fun at our children. She should have known better, because they retaliated. Vee azoy (how)? Vehr gedenkt (who remembers)?
Recently, we attempted to hire a maid for the day. The problem was that she spoke English like a Turk and hardly understood a word (except for the word “money”). My vibel gave her directions, and she nodded her head up and down, indicating that she understood. Their shmoozing (discussion) went something like this:
Shirley: Do you know where the mop is?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Do you now how to use the cleanser?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Do you know how to change the sheets.?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Oh, say can you…?
Response: Si.
The result was that, instead of assistance, the helper cracked the floor mop and hid it in a closet. She placed wet shmahtes (rags) in the closet. No vacuuming took place. Some rooms were not entered. Three hours later, she asked an interesting question: “What about next week?” Hairst ah geshichteh (can you imagine such a thing)?
“Next week,” answered my vibel, “we will be elsewhere.”
Recently, while food shopping with my vibel, a plump lady suddenly approached us and asked whether we needed a helper to tidy up the house. Hairst ah geshichteh (can you imagine such a thing)? Nu, I thought, why did she approach me? Probably because of my shleppy gait,” I concluded. Anyway, I told her that she needed to discuss the matter with my vibel (wife). She then gave me a business card indicating that she was a caretaker for zekaynim (old folks)! Nu, I thought, that explains why she approached me – ah broch tsue dee poor yawr (woe unto our limited lives)!
After leaving the store, I began placing the purchases in the car. Suddenly, the helper zoomed by and stopped next to our car. She began shmoozing with my vibel about being hired as maid for a day. When asked about her fee, her response was that she needed to see the house before discussing the price. Nu, to make a short story even shorter, she never called and we never saw her again. Fahrvoss (why)? As Joe Yudin used to say, “I can’t fathom it.”
So that’s the mazel we have had with maids for a day. But, as it states in Pirkei Avos, “Ihm ayn ahni lee mee lee” – meaning – here comes Pesach and if we don’t prepare for Pesach by ourselves, who will?
Oy vay!
Maid for a Day
by I. Kinek
Nu, you may ask, what type of title is “Maid for a Day”? A good question. There once was a television program called “Queen for a Day.” (Does anyone remember?) It made a tsimmis (big deal) of one lucky lady from the TV audience who was chosen to be queen and receive her special wish – anything from a special bed for a handicapped child to a housekeeper to replace her while she recovered from surgery. She got many other prizes, too. The audience ah-ed and oo-ed as the gifts were presented, making all the vibelach (wives) jealous. When she received a free trip to the Bahamas, the olam went wild with envy.
Nu, times have changed, but the need for household service remains. Our vibelach run large, bustling households – they might work outside the house, as well – and therefore employ a “maid for a day.” This is considered a prize for the lady of the house, right? Doss hayst (that means) that, with a maid, she is a queen for a day. Lozz mihr zehn (let’s explore that possibility).
Once upon a time, a maid was called a helfer (helper). The Israelis still refer to her as an ozeret, a helper, and describe the ozeret as either good or toygen in drerd (not so great). Currently, maids are called “residential cleaners.” That’s only right, considering that a trash collector is called a “sanitary engineer,” someone who cuts your grass a “landscape architect,” a house painter a “decorator,” and a store clerk a “sales consultant.” But that’s another article.
My earliest recollection of a maid is from Milan, Italy. (We lived in Italy until the Fascist anti-Semitic laws drove us out (baruch Hashem!). Her name was Lina (name changed), and she came highly recommended. Initially she was an efficient worker, but one cloudy day she became ah nandreh mentch (a different person).
Vee azoy (how so)? you may ask. Iz dehr enfehr (the answer is) she became an admirer of that chaiyeh Benito Musolini, yimach shmo, who aligned himself with the other chaiyeh, Hitler, yimach shmo. Consequently, she began uttering anti-Semitic comments while bragging about her wonderful Benito. One fateful day, a black shirt Fascist parade passed our residence. Lina ran to the porch, and as the parade passed she gave the parade participants a fascist salute. This was observed by the family and was the “last straw.” The next day, she was fired; the reason given was her wasting too much time, because if the real reason were known, she would have reported us to the fascist authorities, and we would been in gehakteh tsoress (real trouble).
Another maid was hired, and she too was good fahr kaporess (not so good). Fahrvoss (why)? you may ask. Iz dehr enfehr (the answer is) that she took the children for walks – but not only for fresh air. One morning, she took my sister Hinda for a tour of the nearby cathedral. After entering the building, she gave Hinda a white robe and told to repeat kirch (church) litany! Can you imagine such a thing!
After returning home, Hinda uttered vair vais voss (who knows what) litany, and my parents iz nisht giht gevohren (got sick). After questioning her about her walks with the maid, they were flabbergasted. And so another maid bit the dust, so to speak.
After we migrated to the U.S., we settled in Baltimore, Maryland, once called the “Yerushalayim of America.” Yerushalayim it wasn’t, and we experienced some trials and tribulations, but we were thankful that we had escaped from Europe.
We moved into a Jewish neighborhood (if you want to know more about Jewish life in East Baltimore, read my 2006 article in the wherewhatwhen.com archives, called “Cholent in East Baltimore”) and eventually, our financial status improved. It was getting close to the holiday of Passover, and my mom needed assistance, because she prepared for Pesach like no other person I know or knew! A maid was therefore hired to assist in the tedious preparation.
The maid was recommended by the neighbors. In addition to the usual cleaning chores, Martha (name changed) did the laundry. We did not own a washing machine. In those “good old days,” the laundry was placed in the bathtub and scrubbed against a bumpy board called a vash braytle. We children were fascinated watching her. Fahrvoss (why)? you may ask. Iz ahzoy (it’s like this): After filling the tub with hot soapy water, she tossed the laundry into the water and began scrubbing the clothes against the braytle while chewing a pack of gum. Suddenly, she stopped moving her arms, grasped part of the gum from her mouth and proceeded to pull out a long string of the sticky stuff. Next she sucked the gum back into her mouth! She repeated this feat with each item that she washed while humming a tune. Martha had a captive audience, which included kids who lived in the neighborhood that were invited to witness the scene.
Martha (name changed) was the “queen” of helpers. In her prime, she was shtark vee ah faird (strong as a horse). Doss hayst (that means) that before dusting under the bed, she would lift and move part of the bed with one hand! Martha was hired by my Aunt Pessa Lichtenstein, and she served the family for many years. To get “The Martha” to work for you at any time was a major accomplishment, and when Pesach rolled around, it was easier to move a mountain than to “borrow” her services.
Nu, the years rolled by “in a flash,” and Martha was now referred to as the “nisht vee ah mohl (not like in her youth).” She now required assistance moving furniture and doing some of her chores. She worked for a few more years and then retired.
Regarding helpers in our household, voss kehn ich deer zogen (what can I tell you)? Some folks had mazel.
* * *
The years passed. Now, my vibel and I had our own household, with unique helpers. Our first helper was known as Betty (name changed). She wore a unique outfit which was from another era. Her good midda was that she was always punctual. Whether it rained, snowed, or vehr vays (who knows) what kind of weather. One day there was a fierce winter blizzard. We believed that no living being would walk outdoors in the ferocious winds. Upon peering out the window, however, we spotted what appeared to be a walking snowman. Sure enough, it was Betty. She finally arrived, totally covered with snow. After defrosting, Betty began her chores azoy vee ess volt gornisht geven (as if nothing happened). During the summer months, an anticipated hurricane, or a hail storm – it did not matter. Rain shmayn, abih gezunt (just so you’re healthy) was her attitude, and as we kids peered out a window and spotted her coming, we learned a lesson about responsibility.
Before beginning her chores, Betty ate her favorite breakfast food, herring and bread. She then ate her coffee delight, literally, by filling the spoon with instant coffee granules and ingesting them directly from the container. After two more coffee fixes, she dipped a fork in her personal herring jar and ended her breakfast with a cigarette. All in all, ah mychel for a bychel (a digestive oy vey)!
After breakfast, Betty began “making order” in each room. Voss kehn ich deer zogen (what can I tell you)? Before you could complete the morning newspaper, she was ready for lunch. Did she accept the food placed on the table for her? Not a chance! She preferred her favorite food: herring, this time with matza, and coffee!
One day we heard an explosive-like sound. Upon approaching the area, we saw a shattered ceramic lamp on the floor. Without batting an eye, Betty called out, “The dog did it.” “So where is the dog?” she was asked. “He ran away,” she answered. Nu, go argue with Betty or question the dog.
Like other maids, Betty “faded away” – though she must have worked for others, because for a while we saw her waiting for the bus wearing the same “vintage warrior” expression and the same shmahteh coat.
If you believe that Betty was a marvel, hare zich tsue (give a listen) about Matilda (name changed), who was hired to assist us during the evening hours. Arising at night to feed and change the diapers of a new baby was difficult, and that’s why we hired her. Her assistance was very limited, because at times she began dremling (sleeping) and we were back to doing the chores.
During the day Matilda disappeared. Vee iz zee gekrochen (where did she disappear to)? To the basement, where she chain smoked until the place smelled like a smokers’ lounge! We wished her a tsayschem leshalom (go in peace) and aired the house for a few days.
Time moved on, and we survived without a maid. One day, we decided to try again. After interviewing several candidates, we hired another maid. She was nisht gefehrlich (not great) but did her job. However, there was a problem. She liked children like Obama likes Netanyahu! Unfortunately, she began poking fun at our children. She should have known better, because they retaliated. Vee azoy (how)? Vehr gedenkt (who remembers)?
Recently, we attempted to hire a maid for the day. The problem was that she spoke English like a Turk and hardly understood a word (except for the word “money”). My vibel gave her directions, and she nodded her head up and down, indicating that she understood. Their shmoozing (discussion) went something like this:
Shirley: Do you know where the mop is?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Do you now how to use the cleanser?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Do you know how to change the sheets.?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Oh, say can you…?
Response: Si.
The result was that, instead of assistance, the helper cracked the floor mop and hid it in a closet. She placed wet shmahtes (rags) in the closet. No vacuuming took place. Some rooms were not entered. Three hours later, she asked an interesting question: “What about next week?” Hairst ah geshichteh (can you imagine such a thing)?
“Next week,” answered my vibel, “we will be elsewhere.”
Recently, while food shopping with my vibel, a plump lady suddenly approached us and asked whether we needed a helper to tidy up the house. Hairst ah geshichteh (can you imagine such a thing)? Nu, I thought, why did she approach me? Probably because of my shleppy gait,” I concluded. Anyway, I told her that she needed to discuss the matter with my vibel (wife). She then gave me a business card indicating that she was a caretaker for zekaynim (old folks)! Nu, I thought, that explains why she approached me – ah broch tsue dee poor yawr (woe unto our limited lives)!
After leaving the store, I began placing the purchases in the car. Suddenly, the helper zoomed by and stopped next to our car. She began shmoozing with my vibel about being hired as maid for a day. When asked about her fee, her response was that she needed to see the house before discussing the price. Nu, to make a short story even shorter, she never called and we never saw her again. Fahrvoss (why)? As Joe Yudin used to say, “I can’t fathom it.”
So that’s the mazel we have had with maids for a day. But, as it states in Pirkei Avos, “Ihm ayn ahni lee mee lee” – meaning – here comes Pesach and if we don’t prepare for Pesach by ourselves, who will?
Oy vay!
Maid for a Day
by I. Kinek
Nu, you may ask, what type of title is “Maid for a Day”? A good question. There once was a television program called “Queen for a Day.” (Does anyone remember?) It made a tsimmis (big deal) of one lucky lady from the TV audience who was chosen to be queen and receive her special wish – anything from a special bed for a handicapped child to a housekeeper to replace her while she recovered from surgery. She got many other prizes, too. The audience ah-ed and oo-ed as the gifts were presented, making all the vibelach (wives) jealous. When she received a free trip to the Bahamas, the olam went wild with envy.
Nu, times have changed, but the need for household service remains. Our vibelach run large, bustling households – they might work outside the house, as well – and therefore employ a “maid for a day.” This is considered a prize for the lady of the house, right? Doss hayst (that means) that, with a maid, she is a queen for a day. Lozz mihr zehn (let’s explore that possibility).
Once upon a time, a maid was called a helfer (helper). The Israelis still refer to her as an ozeret, a helper, and describe the ozeret as either good or toygen in drerd (not so great). Currently, maids are called “residential cleaners.” That’s only right, considering that a trash collector is called a “sanitary engineer,” someone who cuts your grass a “landscape architect,” a house painter a “decorator,” and a store clerk a “sales consultant.” But that’s another article.
My earliest recollection of a maid is from Milan, Italy. (We lived in Italy until the Fascist anti-Semitic laws drove us out (baruch Hashem!). Her name was Lina (name changed), and she came highly recommended. Initially she was an efficient worker, but one cloudy day she became ah nandreh mentch (a different person).
Vee azoy (how so)? you may ask. Iz dehr enfehr (the answer is) she became an admirer of that chaiyeh Benito Musolini, yimach shmo, who aligned himself with the other chaiyeh, Hitler, yimach shmo. Consequently, she began uttering anti-Semitic comments while bragging about her wonderful Benito. One fateful day, a black shirt Fascist parade passed our residence. Lina ran to the porch, and as the parade passed she gave the parade participants a fascist salute. This was observed by the family and was the “last straw.” The next day, she was fired; the reason given was her wasting too much time, because if the real reason were known, she would have reported us to the fascist authorities, and we would been in gehakteh tsoress (real trouble).
Another maid was hired, and she too was good fahr kaporess (not so good). Fahrvoss (why)? you may ask. Iz dehr enfehr (the answer is) that she took the children for walks – but not only for fresh air. One morning, she took my sister Hinda for a tour of the nearby cathedral. After entering the building, she gave Hinda a white robe and told to repeat kirch (church) litany! Can you imagine such a thing!
After returning home, Hinda uttered vair vais voss (who knows what) litany, and my parents iz nisht giht gevohren (got sick). After questioning her about her walks with the maid, they were flabbergasted. And so another maid bit the dust, so to speak.
After we migrated to the U.S., we settled in Baltimore, Maryland, once called the “Yerushalayim of America.” Yerushalayim it wasn’t, and we experienced some trials and tribulations, but we were thankful that we had escaped from Europe.
We moved into a Jewish neighborhood (if you want to know more about Jewish life in East Baltimore, read my 2006 article in the wherewhatwhen.com archives, called “Cholent in East Baltimore”) and eventually, our financial status improved. It was getting close to the holiday of Passover, and my mom needed assistance, because she prepared for Pesach like no other person I know or knew! A maid was therefore hired to assist in the tedious preparation.
The maid was recommended by the neighbors. In addition to the usual cleaning chores, Martha (name changed) did the laundry. We did not own a washing machine. In those “good old days,” the laundry was placed in the bathtub and scrubbed against a bumpy board called a vash braytle. We children were fascinated watching her. Fahrvoss (why)? you may ask. Iz ahzoy (it’s like this): After filling the tub with hot soapy water, she tossed the laundry into the water and began scrubbing the clothes against the braytle while chewing a pack of gum. Suddenly, she stopped moving her arms, grasped part of the gum from her mouth and proceeded to pull out a long string of the sticky stuff. Next she sucked the gum back into her mouth! She repeated this feat with each item that she washed while humming a tune. Martha had a captive audience, which included kids who lived in the neighborhood that were invited to witness the scene.
Martha (name changed) was the “queen” of helpers. In her prime, she was shtark vee ah faird (strong as a horse). Doss hayst (that means) that before dusting under the bed, she would lift and move part of the bed with one hand! Martha was hired by my Aunt Pessa Lichtenstein, and she served the family for many years. To get “The Martha” to work for you at any time was a major accomplishment, and when Pesach rolled around, it was easier to move a mountain than to “borrow” her services.
Nu, the years rolled by “in a flash,” and Martha was now referred to as the “nisht vee ah mohl (not like in her youth).” She now required assistance moving furniture and doing some of her chores. She worked for a few more years and then retired.
Regarding helpers in our household, voss kehn ich deer zogen (what can I tell you)? Some folks had mazel.
* * *
The years passed. Now, my vibel and I had our own household, with unique helpers. Our first helper was known as Betty (name changed). She wore a unique outfit which was from another era. Her good midda was that she was always punctual. Whether it rained, snowed, or vehr vays (who knows) what kind of weather. One day there was a fierce winter blizzard. We believed that no living being would walk outdoors in the ferocious winds. Upon peering out the window, however, we spotted what appeared to be a walking snowman. Sure enough, it was Betty. She finally arrived, totally covered with snow. After defrosting, Betty began her chores azoy vee ess volt gornisht geven (as if nothing happened). During the summer months, an anticipated hurricane, or a hail storm – it did not matter. Rain shmayn, abih gezunt (just so you’re healthy) was her attitude, and as we kids peered out a window and spotted her coming, we learned a lesson about responsibility.
Before beginning her chores, Betty ate her favorite breakfast food, herring and bread. She then ate her coffee delight, literally, by filling the spoon with instant coffee granules and ingesting them directly from the container. After two more coffee fixes, she dipped a fork in her personal herring jar and ended her breakfast with a cigarette. All in all, ah mychel for a bychel (a digestive oy vey)!
After breakfast, Betty began “making order” in each room. Voss kehn ich deer zogen (what can I tell you)? Before you could complete the morning newspaper, she was ready for lunch. Did she accept the food placed on the table for her? Not a chance! She preferred her favorite food: herring, this time with matza, and coffee!
One day we heard an explosive-like sound. Upon approaching the area, we saw a shattered ceramic lamp on the floor. Without batting an eye, Betty called out, “The dog did it.” “So where is the dog?” she was asked. “He ran away,” she answered. Nu, go argue with Betty or question the dog.
Like other maids, Betty “faded away” – though she must have worked for others, because for a while we saw her waiting for the bus wearing the same “vintage warrior” expression and the same shmahteh coat.
If you believe that Betty was a marvel, hare zich tsue (give a listen) about Matilda (name changed), who was hired to assist us during the evening hours. Arising at night to feed and change the diapers of a new baby was difficult, and that’s why we hired her. Her assistance was very limited, because at times she began dremling (sleeping) and we were back to doing the chores.
During the day Matilda disappeared. Vee iz zee gekrochen (where did she disappear to)? To the basement, where she chain smoked until the place smelled like a smokers’ lounge! We wished her a tsayschem leshalom (go in peace) and aired the house for a few days.
Time moved on, and we survived without a maid. One day, we decided to try again. After interviewing several candidates, we hired another maid. She was nisht gefehrlich (not great) but did her job. However, there was a problem. She liked children like Obama likes Netanyahu! Unfortunately, she began poking fun at our children. She should have known better, because they retaliated. Vee azoy (how)? Vehr gedenkt (who remembers)?
Recently, we attempted to hire a maid for the day. The problem was that she spoke English like a Turk and hardly understood a word (except for the word “money”). My vibel gave her directions, and she nodded her head up and down, indicating that she understood. Their shmoozing (discussion) went something like this:
Shirley: Do you know where the mop is?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Do you now how to use the cleanser?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Do you know how to change the sheets.?
Response: Si.
Shirley: Oh, say can you…?
Response: Si.
The result was that, instead of assistance, the helper cracked the floor mop and hid it in a closet. She placed wet shmahtes (rags) in the closet. No vacuuming took place. Some rooms were not entered. Three hours later, she asked an interesting question: “What about next week?” Hairst ah geshichteh (can you imagine such a thing)?
“Next week,” answered my vibel, “we will be elsewhere.”
Recently, while food shopping with my vibel, a plump lady suddenly approached us and asked whether we needed a helper to tidy up the house. Hairst ah geshichteh (can you imagine such a thing)? Nu, I thought, why did she approach me? Probably because of my shleppy gait,” I concluded. Anyway, I told her that she needed to discuss the matter with my vibel (wife). She then gave me a business card indicating that she was a caretaker for zekaynim (old folks)! Nu, I thought, that explains why she approached me – ah broch tsue dee poor yawr (woe unto our limited lives)!
After leaving the store, I began placing the purchases in the car. Suddenly, the helper zoomed by and stopped next to our car. She began shmoozing with my vibel about being hired as maid for a day. When asked about her fee, her response was that she needed to see the house before discussing the price. Nu, to make a short story even shorter, she never called and we never saw her again. Fahrvoss (why)? As Joe Yudin used to say, “I can’t fathom it.”
So that’s the mazel we have had with maids for a day. But, as it states in Pirkei Avos, “Ihm ayn ahni lee mee lee” – meaning – here comes Pesach and if we don’t prepare for Pesach by ourselves, who will?
Oy vay!
