I had to fire my cleaner today, and I cried.
I didn't cry because I can't bear the thought of scrubbing my floors myself, I cried for her, and for me.
Why did I cry for her?
I cried for her because I am sure I am not the only who has had to fire their cleaner. And all the cleaners out there are going to be earning less. All the people who do services that the middle class decide they can do themselves are going to be earning less. And these are the people who can't afford to be earning less.
Here are the people who are going to be affected by Fluffy Bear and I being out of work:
- Cleaner
- Dog poop scoopers
- Personal Trainer
- Nutritionist
- Masseur
- Chiropractor
- Dog groomer
- Doggy day care
- Hairdresser
- Esthetician - I used buy my face products there, now I use off the shelf stuff from the grocery store
- Dog trainer
- Mowing service
- Hedge trimming service
These are all people who run small businesses, or work for themselves.
And all because publicly held organizations serve shareholders rather than stakeholders and mistakenly believe that the Federal Government alone should fund a stimulus package.
I want to make T-shirts that say "Reject the Recession! Buy something!" because each and every one of us who spends less makes this thing a self-fulfilling prophecy. But I can't. Because I'd be a hypocrite. Because I have to spend less. A lot less.
Why did I cry for me?
I cried for me because we did everything we could to keep our cleaner. Of all the services we buy, her's was the last to get downsized. Because we aren't stupid - we can forsee the petty arguments that doing (or not doing) chores around the house are going to bring. And, with one of us boot strapping a startup and the other looking for work, stress levels are already running high.
I heard a report on the BBC World Service the other day, centered on the book Getting to 50-50 - How Working Couples Can Have it All by Sharing it All where the reporter warned against getting rid of the cleaner when times are hard. Easier said than done.
This isn't going to be pretty.
I also cried for me because firing the cleaner was a real sign. A sign that everything is not OK, that maybe - just maybe - things won't be OK either.
The event made a little chink in my armor, a little crack in the positive, gung-ho facade.
What if I don't find a job?
What if our savings run out?
What if we end up having to leave the US and live with family again?
What if, what if, endless what ifs.
But, here's the thing.
Tomorrow, I'll feel better. Tomorrow I'll remember that we survived the meltdown in 2001. Tomorrow I'll feel confident and network and jobhunt and think positive what ifs, like how I'd want my kitchen to be in my dream house.
And I'll buy a floor mop and get ready to clean this house.
Puppy Dog better get over his fear of the vaccuum cleaner, cos I'm gonna run that sucker over his shedding arse every morning from now on...