My maid gives me a lot of stories to tell. I think I've complained about her once or twice but I stopped because sometimes it's even more aggravating to talk about it.
In between, a lot of things have happened. I hope this post will be the last one forever. Last of her misdeeds. We're turning her back to the agent. Sunday is the big day for us. YAY.
The last one I think was about her breaking my Swarovski crystal. And a vase the day before. And a teapot the next day. Diu. How can anyone tolerate this? Hire you to clean stuff, not to break stuff. She has the midas touch except everything she touches turns into pieces instead of gold. She also has sticky hands.
You see, I hate my maid not because she is a maid, but because she is a maid who doesn't do her job and gives you work to do instead. It's like having a liability around and you have to pay money additionally for having it. What bloody justice is this? Hire a driver who doesn't fetch you but bangs your car instead. Hire a banker who doesn't earn you money but steals your money instead. That's how she makes people feel and it is a feeling I loathe- the feeling of being victimised and bullied.
I used to think that she doesn't steal, but I was wrong. One day I got disturbed from my bloody sleep because my brother thought I took the souvenirs he bought for his girlfriend. Not his fault, my maid told him she saw me having the plastic bag containing the souvenirs.
That was when we were back from Australia. He used the bag from airport and I bought stuff at the airport too so we have the same bag. His souvenirs were Dior makeup set and some Hello Kitty stuff. All missing. I told him I didn't even see it. OF COURSE HE BELIEVE ME LA. Ma de. Stupid maid. Dare to put me as the scapegoat.
My parents were supposed to work but instead they wasted bloody 3 hours trying to find it. My brother could tell that the maid took it. She kept saying she didn't take it. And then we found the plastic bag stashed among other plastic bags. So obviously it was her and obviously she was lying. She took out the souvenirs and hid it somewhere else.
My brother was like a detective, looked for the highs and lows everywhere. Finally found it, it was behind the bloody washing machine. She probably thought the souvenirs were mine. Unfortunately for her, it was my brother's. If it was me I would be too tired to find it. I hate searching hard for my belongings. I bought you, you should be there obediently!
What happened when my dad knew she was the one who stole it and acted like an idiot all this while when we searched for it like an asshole? He got pissed. Grabbed her hair and shouted. He had to go work but then the maid wants to play some hide and seek game. How nice.
When I shout, you can hear me from the third floor. When my dad shouts? The third floor's glass door has a good chance of vibrating.
Today was the breaking point. After outing at 1U, Sim Kuan dropped me off. Lucian the dog came outside to greet me. I was wondering why the front door wasn't closed. And then I went upstairs to put my stuff. Lucian pooped at the staircase. I called for my maid to clean it. No answer.
I went down to find her in her room. Not there. Everywhere else? Na-da. And then I saw the outdoor kitchen's door was opened. The soup was still cooking. It's the traditional one where you use charcoal and you can see the fire burning. So dangerous you know.
My maid already set the fucking house on fire once. She was cleaning the stove and something dropped. That's how she explained the fire suddenly broke out. And then lucky we cut off the gas before it continued. The kitchen wall went black by the time.
I thought someone kidnapped my maid but after I saw the back door opened I knew she went out. You imagine how dangerous it was, back door and front door left open and no one was in the house.
I locked the doors and went to shower. She went out for an hour plus. I told my dad. He was on his way home. And then suddenly, EXPLOSION. My dad couldn't handle her anymore. He shouted her and hit her. It's like, we need to make her listen but she's never scared. In fact when we scold her she smiles after that. Psycho.
This time she cried. My dad is really, really fierce when you make him angry. It's like he's going to take your life. You know friends who're scary when they throw tempers? They learn it from their parents. If you see someone you don't want to make them angry, you know they have fierce parents. Children tend to mirror their parents. The way they scold people, the intonation, the gestures, the tendencies, the glare.
Me? When I'm angry I need an outlet. I get angry more than I get sad because I loathe self-pitying. I hate crying because my dad hates crying and hates it when I cry. When I'm angry I'll release it on whoever made me angry. Shout. Throw stuff. Bang tables. The best way to make me angrier is to make fun of me when I'm angry. I'll try extra hard to let you know I'm really serious.
It's like there's a limit, people go over it. If they do it accidentally, like they thought it was okay but find out it isn't and apologize, then it's okay. But some go over the limit, and don't feel sorry for it. I remember one time Ding accidentally poked my eye until my contact lens lodged in my eye and I had to pinch around my eyes to fish it out.
After I got it out I was half-blind and Ding ran to the other side because he was afraid I'd hit him. I told him to come here and he ran further. It was after-school and everyone was waiting at the door to go home. I shouted and pointed at him to stay.
And you know when people sense trouble is brewing they go silent to watch? Suddenly the excitement of going back home, and then silence because they heard me shouting. Even the teacher was watching. I ran over to Ding and hit him. AHAHA OMG. Ding was like wtf because I was really angry.
So that's the story for today. My maid went out to play visit visit with her friends, left the front and back doors open and came home after an hour and a half. I ratted her out to my dad and my dad scolded her and hit her.
Oh yeah. When people make me angry I have an overwhelming urge to give them a taste of their own medicine. I hate it when people offend me and think I'm okay with it and do it again. It's like you don't give a fuck on how I feel.
ONE MAJOR PET PEEVE is when she plays with my thing. Invade my privacy. She took picture of herself on my digital camera before, I scolded her. And then she played with my iPod. I scolded her. Play with my Swarovski crystal until it broke, scolded her. Scold so many times but never listen, I'm actually glad to see my dad hit her. That's what you want, no? You fucking asked for it.
My mum tells me she plays with my stuff when I'm not around as well. So many books and shit. Yesterday she tested my pens and forgot to close it. My G-2s. Stupid idiot. Test which colour looks nice. When my mum searched her room, I found my pen. Labeled with my freaking name sumore.
Oh yeah. My goodness. Story never-ending. A day or two, a neighbour complained to my parents about my maid. She said that our maid often finds their maid to chitchat and teach her bad stuff. So shameful, my dad hates that. Embarass him and give him trouble, great going!
Found out she has a handphone. The last two maids, they stole money and bought handphones. This one smarter. She stole our handphones directly. I would like to give her a round of applause. Don't even know where she found the fucking charger. It's my dad's phone.
And only my mum scolded her that day. My dad kept quiet and tried not to scold her. Today was the limit. He told her not to be so arrogant. Just because he kept quiet doesn't mean she can do whatever she likes. Put our house up for robbery.