Photo: Royalty-free pexels-liliana-drew-9462106
Because we didn't know what to give our daughter, with a busy full-time job and two daughters, as a birthday present, we thought it would be a good idea to surprise her with three hours of cleaning help per week. After placing an advertisement on https://www.werksters.nl/werkster-gezocht/ and other sites, many weeks later a woman of about forty years old named Miriam responded. The names in this true story are of course made up.
During the conversation, which took place at my daughter's home, Miriam said that this was not her real name but that her real name was Wilma de Bie and that she lived in a room in a supported living home in Zeist-West. She was not originally from Zeist but grew up with her parents in IJsselstein but could no longer live at home due to circumstances. She already had four workshops, but because she was no longer wanted at a fifth address without giving any reason, the three hours we requested were perfect. After hearing the hourly rate, Wilma told us that her earnings had to be deposited into the account of a friend of hers to pay off the car he had advanced. Strange, but we didn't think anything of it. When we said goodbye, I told her to call later that evening to see if we wanted to use her services. My daughter and I had an "almost" good feeling about this woman and decided to take a chance and I called Wilma to say that we agreed because she also deserved a chance.
I worked for fourteen years at the Salvation Army Headquarters in Almere as a Traffic Manager and purchaser and during those years I saw many harrowing cases of people who simply had bad luck in life, got into debt and ended up on the streets. On the “soup bus” through Amsterdam my eyes were opened and I visited people under bridges, in boats and on the streets, talked to them and gave them food. With the LdH slogan “Hungry ears don’t listen” we tried to get them off the streets and help them towards a better life by giving them food. But this did not always work, because some simply did not want to be helped and wanted to get off the streets. Before my LdH time I thought that it was all riff-raff and riff-raff that lived on the streets, but that is really not the case. There are also many decent and educated people living on the streets. You can simply have bad luck in life, get into debt or become schizophrenic and end up on the streets. As a result, I took one day off a week for many years to work as a social worker in the army in Zeist, accompanying people to the food bank and helping them out of debt as a debt counselor. You will be amazed, but even in our wealthy Zeist, more than 500 people use the food bank every week. Unfortunately, there are also people, and I know a few of them, who are not really entitled to it and therefore abuse it at the expense of others.
But back to Wilma. For a few weeks, Wilma came faithfully every Thursday and I, but also our granddaughter, was present during her work. To the great displeasure of my granddaughters, Wilma used a whole bottle of cleaning vinegar every week, which made the house smell sour. But according to her, everything could only be cleaned properly with this vinegar. The entire three hours that she was working, she talked loudly about everything and anything, asked not to leave jewelry and valuables in sight and chatted happily, also on the phone. During the coffee we had together, she told me about her parents in IJsselstein and that things weren't going well for her there. According to her, I had to be a good father and grandfather, which of course I had to admit because that's what I think of myself. During one of those conversations Wilma told me that her mother worked in a shop on the Slotlaan and in passing I was told, while she pointed to her buttocks, that that buttocks were hers and that she decided who could touch them. I was astonished and surprised at my naivety to be in the house with her every week and was glad that my granddaughter was always there too. After all, she could have accused me of anything and as a man you have the appearance against you. Stupid of me.
So the weeks went by and my daughter asked, “Shall we give the cleaning lady a key, Dad, so you don't have to come every week?” ‘No, honey, let’s wait a little longer because I don’t have a good feeling about it yet’. A week later, Wilma announced that she wanted to leave early because she had to pick up her food parcel from the food bank and would like to be paid in cash the following week to pay for the hairdresser. Another week later, she said that she had an appointment at the UWV and could not come, and the following week that she had to go to the hospital in two weeks for breast reconstruction due to breast cancer. I wished her much strength in her recovery, ‘take the time you need’ and asked her to let me know when she thought she would come again.
After Wilma resumed her work four weeks later, I received a WhatsApp message from her a week later at 6:45 in the morning that something terrible had happened, that her father had died of cardiac arrest during the night and that she had gone straight to her mother in IJsselstein and could not come for the time being. I offered her my condolences for this loss, wished her much strength and again with a ‘take the time and let "Let me know when you think you'll be back," I concluded. But I didn't trust this message and I had been irritated for a while by all sorts of events with her and my trust and always wanting to see the good in people was running out.
Her message gnawed at me all day and because I had to go to the Slotlaan anyway, I walked into the shop where her mother worked and saw two ladies standing behind the counter. I asked both ladies if Mrs. De Bie was present, whereupon one of the ladies raised her hand and said “I am”. “Then I must offer you my sincere condolences on behalf of your daughter Wilma for the death of your husband last night.” The distraught woman turned red and stammered “where do you know my daughter Wilma from” and I told her about the work she did for our daughter. “Can I call my husband”, she asked, “I saw him this morning”. “Of course you can” and when she came back a few minutes later she told me that her husband was fortunately still alive. After apologizing for my clumsiness, I asked for her mobile number so that I could forward all of her daughter’s WhatsApp messages so that she could read exactly what had happened in recent months and her daughter would not have to make excuses. I then sent Wilma a message saying that I had spoken to her poor and upset mother in the store, that you don't lie about something like that, that if you don't feel like working you should just say so. I ended with an "I never want to see you again" and that I would delete her mobile number immediately.
I asked my granddaughters, who were relieved to be spared the sour smell, how they would feel if their mother told her employer that grandpa had died and could not come to work today. “You don’t do that, grandpa!” Was the answer. Yes, I was still thinking about my love, who had had a cardiac arrest less than a year ago and had an ICD, defibrillator and pacemaker built in after heart surgery.
Two weeks later, on Thursday morning, market day, I was walking in front of the Salvation Army building and heard a Godvere, Godvere, Godvere and a woman rushed past. I looked around in surprise and just saw Wilma’s buttocks with Wilma’s head above it rush past. She had apparently recognized me and could not move and she was gone. Wilma has lost her chances with me through the Salvation Army and charity and this boy is now a bit more careful.
Arnie Della Rosa