Part Two of my ongoing discussion of dust irregularities at Rethink Central.
Oh yes, it’s all hard hitting news here at the Madam blog.
So as I mentioned in my last post – dust is something that needs to be managed in India. You can’t skirt round the issue; where there’s a surface, it needs dusting.
So, I got a maid. However, she is even less keen on dusting than I am. This is something of an issue as she has, of course, been hired almost specifically to deal with dust. Well that and washing the floors – but they mainly get dirty from the dust blowing in the window as well. So if you’re feeling pedantic, you can file that under ‘dust issue’ as well.
So, there she is, lord of the cleaners at Rethink Central – surrounded by dust as far as the eye can see – and she’s not keen on dusting.
And I have been lax, I do not stand over her and make her redo the dusting that is simply substandard. I have been in the house while she’s working - but I’ve been busy beavering away on the Rethink event in London and launching our Mastermind coaching, and so to a large degree I’ve left her to it.
This has not been a good idea. Indian housewives generally really micro manage their staff; stand over them as they work and nit pick. At first it seems very authoritarian to the outsider, but the longer I’m here the more I can understand why. Without it you just get a really rubbish job. But if you’ve not been raised to servants it feels slightly wrong to be continually correcting someone.
However, I did get to the bottom of the dust issue. There was one day when I was working upstairs with the doors open and a glorious view of the eagles next door. The maid came in and started inching round the room doing the dusting. Moving at the pace you do to dust. Picking things up, and putting them down and generally – you know… dusting.
Or so I thought.
After she’d gone, I happened to stand up and need something from the book shelf. The shelf she’d just dusted.
And do you know what?
It wasn’t dusted. Not even slightly. I would go so far as to say it was filthy.
Which means that she’d been fake dusting.
God knows why – it took all the effort of actual dusting. All the time of real dusting, but with none of the actual dust removal you might expect.
I was to say the least, a smidge annoyed. Fake dusting? Good god!
Join me for Part Three on Wednesday – when I take the duster by the horns…
This the second in a three part series.
Read Part One here – The red dust of India
Read Part Three here - Too much dust, Madam