indianajosh:

juliosalgado83:

For the past 14 years, my mother has been cleaning houses for a living. I still remember the first time I cleaned a stranger’s house with her. I was in charged of the bathrooms. I hated it.

I would sit on the side of the bath tub and look at the cleaning supplies in front of me. Ajax. Windex. Clorox. Dr. Clean. That shiny bald head always looking back at me. 

“You’re doing it all wrong mijo,” my mother would say. She would kneel down next to me and show me the proper way to apply the Ajax on the walls. Most of the time, my mind was some place else. “Did you get that?” she’d ask. I’d just nod my head yes.

She would quickly get up and run back to the kitchen. Or throw a new load of the stranger’s laundry. Or do their beds. Or kneel back again and clean under the couches. Always moving quickly. Quicker than me. Not once complaining. 

“Even if you see 5 cents or five dollars, you are not to take a single penny,” she’d tell me over our lunch break. “We might be poor, but we don’t steal.”

Every time I aced a test, she would brag to her bosses in her broken English. I would thank them for congratulating me and go back outside to clean their patio.

I can’t ever thank that woman enough for making me the man I am now. 

To support the rights of domestic workers, please visit http://www.domesticworkers.org/

These are some of the most under unappreciated people in our society, along with janitors, skilled laborers, waitstaff, and volunteers (who often get lumped under the umbrella of privileged white kid looking for a resume-booster, unfortunately). Every one of these people deserve not only a fair shake, but a little bit of empathy and compassion. A smile when you walk by them. A gentle “Hey, how’s it going?” A simple nod acknowledging that they exist.

I grew up with a kid whose wealthy parents had a domestic cleaner. He always made fun of her on the school bus, and talked about her as if she was property. He made fun of her broken English. Of how she has to clean up the mess that he makes, while he gets to go play outside. This continued well beyond puberty into a state of what should’ve been quasi-maturity for him. I’ve never had a domestic worker in my home, but I can’t help but wonder how many people view them in a similar light. Replaceable, insignificant, inferior, deserving of the menial job that is all they could ever hope to get in their insignificant little life.

I always hate when I’m sitting in class at university and I see a bunch of thoughtless young kids eating and drinking, leaving their garbage on the floor beside their chairs. The most common retort they give when confronted is “That’s what the janitors get paid for.” Aside from many of these workers being exploited for their minority status, denied basic benefits, and paid well below a living wage, it’s just disrespectful to purposefully and thoughtfully create more work for someone who already has enough to do. It’s not the most dignified job, but most of the janitors and cleaners who I’ve gotten to know personally are incredibly dignified while on the job. They take their work seriously and work diligently. These people are already invisible enough to the rest of the world—there’s no need to be an asshole and emphasize what some people consider to be their worthlessness. Pick up your trash, asshole. It takes no effort to toss it into the conveniently-placed trash can next to the door on your way out. Try not to let the door hit you, either.

Or how everyone in air-conditioned cars likes to complain about the “lazy road workers” eating or drinking while they should get off their lazy-asses and work so that this construction can get completed and they don’t have to be stuck in traffic. Excuse them for taking a break from their 12-hour shifts in 100+ degree heat to eat a fucking snack or have a cold drink. I’m sure that you, sitting comfortably in your car with crisp air-conditioner and gentle tunes playing, are in a veritable state of hell because of their 15-minute break. Oh, and next time you drive down the road and don’t have to worry about rupturing a tire from the pothole verging on a black hole, maybe you can thank the guys who toiled in the sun all day for not having your car sucked into the asphalt singularity.

Or maybe I’m just over-analyzing trivial things and becoming increasingly misanthropic. Either way, just don’t be an asshole.

To anyone.

Worth repeating:

   “Either way, just don’t be an asshole.

   To anyone.”