Residence, Sweet Residence/Identity Crisis

Week Four, February 2008

A PLANTLADY'S LIFE IN GEEKATOPIA



Mocha Morning Haiku:

Newspapers scattered
over coffee house tables -
dark freshly brewed words


Invading someone else’s space is not particularly pleasant for me - even when I am paid to do it, which is the case every other week when I care for plants in ten private homes. I know I feel that way in part because I am a product of post-dishwasher modernism where everyone tidies his or her own digs - seriously, if I had a housekeeper I know I would have to clean the house before “the help” showed up on my doorstep! Modern Americans are expected to be self-reliant to a fault. No wonder we are an irritable, sleep-deprived, over-stressed bunch.

Such was not always the case. Within living memory folks had servants to do much of the housework - and not just wealthy folks either. Middle class households commonly hired part-time help. My Irish great-grandmother did laundry for the “ladies up on the hill” in Cincinnati, Ohio - my Swedish grandmother came to the United States as an indentured servant (meaning that she had to work off her passage in the household of her sponsor). In fact I would hazard a guess that most people in this country are descended from people who at one time or another worked in someone else’s house. Immigrants were the first “labor-saving device” and we have always been a nation of immigrants.

Still, the idea of servants feels . . . well, un-American to most of us. Working in someone else’s house implies a class system we champions of equality strive to deny. At the same time, the service sector thrives even in struggling economies. There are plenty of jobs for people who wish to work - people not too filled with false pride to roll up their sleeves, that is. Don’t get me started on work ethic! OK, so service jobs don’t pay as much as your basic software-slog situations (with the exception of highly rewarded Geekatopian housekeepers who can buy and sell most cube-jockeys), the work is steady and plentiful. And has its rewards beyond the bottom line - rewards that revealed themselves gradually to me over the years .

Most plant care companies do not take residential clients - residence accounts are not especially cost effective and there are pesky liability issues (What if you ruin the oak flooring? What if some valuable item goes missing? It can get ugly when things go wrong). I “inherited” my ten residential clients when the company I work for bought a smaller company and “grandfathered” the smaller company’s existing clients.

And let me tell you I wasn’t too thrilled at first. Imagine arriving at a stranger’s home armed with a water bucket, a spare key, an alarm code, and a list of plants with their locations! You feel imaginary eyes following you as you make your way through the darkened house - expect sirens and flashing lights at any moment. No one is home but the dog (which you hope is friendly). You shift the breakfast dishes out of your way to fill your water bucket in the kitchen sink. You step over dirty laundry strewn across the master bathroom floor on your way to the ficus tree (Hey, folks, what happened to the laundry hamper??). You trip on a chew toy in the living room and spend ten minutes mopping up the carpet (complimentary carpet cleaning service?). On the way out the back door, you try to set the alarm - screw it up - the sirens blare like a prison break until you get the code reset properly. You are totally deaf for the next two hours. This is not a fun way to spend your day.

So what about the rewards I mentioned? Over the years I have come to know and appreciate ten very special families - have watched their kids grow up - have shared their anguish during times of illness, as well as their joy at graduations, weddings, births. Sometimes I think I know more about these folks than about my own family and friends. This week one of my families had to put down their beloved elderly cat (a sweet Main Coon cat who liked to follow me around the house as I watered) and I shared their loss as keenly as if it had been my cat. I think there is no greater compliment a person can pay you than allowing you into their private lives - entrusting to you the sanctity of their homes. I am grateful for the opportunity to be a member (in a small way) of their families and provide a service that brings beauty and peace to their homes. That good, warm feeling makes it all worthwhile.

THIS WEEK’S OFFICE PLANT CARE TIP: Identity Crisis

“Well, you know, one of those green leafy things,” was the response I got the other day when I asked a young relative what kind of plant she had in her office - an answer that did not exactly narrow the possibilities. How are you going to know what your plant needs from you if you don’t know what sort of plant you have? Different kinds of plants need different kinds of care - you can’t water your African violet every day any more than you can feed your goldfish a plate of spaghetti.

So, how do you find out what plant you have? If your plant is small, take it to a local garden center for identification. If your plant is too large to pack around, take a leaf. There are also many good houseplant books with pictures that may help. Or try internet resources. One good source is www.initialplants.com - go to the “design guide” - there are pictures of all the more common office plants, complete with their light requirements. Once you know the name of your plant you are well on your way to understanding its care requirements.