The gringa way

I decided to try a new approach with Arexy, the new maid. I've always believed that if you explain the reason and show why something should be done a certain way, that the person will see the reasoning and remember it better. I've also mistakenly thought, as most gringos initially do, that people would enjoy learning to do something new or in a 'better' way. I've tried and tried that over the years with both male and female workers here in Honduras with not much success. A little, but not much.

What I've found, and what El Jefe has told me, is that low level workers are very childlike and that I should just tell them what to do and not try to be friends. It is rare to find someone who puts some thought into what they are doing. These workers (mostly) just do what they are told, if they remember, which they won't all of the time, just like children. (Please don't bother to tell me this is condescending. It has been true most of the time and that's all I can say.)

One worker even told us that he preferred that we just tell him what to do and then stand over him and watch him and correct him the entire time. That was an amazing cultural enlightenment for me, since I had seen another Honduran neighbor do that with him while he called him names like 'pendejo' and 'cabrón'! That anyone would prefer that kind of treatment was beyond me.

The main problem with my theory is that uneducated Hondurans are probably just not going to believe my reasons. Many only know one way to do something and see no reason to learn another. "I've never heard of that before!" No matter that doctors and scientists and professionals in every area have proven something to be fact to the rest of the world, if it's not done that way in Honduras, it can't be true. Most have been raised to believe that all chemicals are good and that if a little is good, a lot is even better. Spray bug spray all over your counter and then slap the tortilla dough down on it − what's the problem?

Things to do with health or hygiene that can't be instantly proven will be ignored. I understand that the very basic health and hygiene knowledge that we all grow up learning and think that everyone knows is not known among most of the poor. The connection between not washing hands and getting diarrhea and parasites is a foreign concept. You can't see germs or bacteria so they don't exist.

Additionally, since most well-to-do Honduran women have never cleaned their own house or painted it, worked in the garden, mowed the lawn, grown vegetables or turned the compost pile, laid tile or installed a faucet, the workers assume that I couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about and feel justified in ignoring me.

Another problem is that, in some cases, it is hard to say that 'this way' is better/safer/faster/healthier/more hygienic than 'that way' without insulting the 'Honduran way.' If I say filling the sink with hot soapy water to wash dishes gets the dishes cleaner and is more hygienic, it kind of sounds like I'm putting down the Honduran way. I'm not. Most people don't have hot water in their kitchen or even any running water, so I understand why they wash dishes the way they do. I, however, do have hot water and I want to use it!

So what I've taken to doing is saying with a smile that 'this way' might seem a little strange but it is 'the gringa way.' Period. I bite my tongue not to say why it is the gringa way. It's too soon to tell how that is going to work out, but I think that Arexy can accept that I am an expert on gringa ways better than she can accept that I've had a lot of years of doing my own housecleaning under my belt.

I feel just a tiny bit guilty that poor Arexy is now going to think that all gringas have my weird ways. For example, she may now think that all gringas want to save all of their plastic bags and reuse the same old ones in the trashcan over and over. She also now may think that all gringas use vinegar to wash their floors or save their coffee grounds and food scraps for the big garbage pile (compost pile) out back. I can tell that those kinds of things are perplexing and a little disturbing to her. ;-D

The Tale of the maid from hell

Maid from hell
Image from: Crunchyroll

Did I ever tell you about the maid from hell? No, not that one. A different one. I searched and I didn't find any mention so here goes:

This maid had an terrible attitude from the very beginning. She seemed to forget who was the dueña and who was the worker. She argued about everything. I knew that was a bad sign. I've seen how maids act around their Honduran bosses and I knew it was NOT like this.

Hey, I'm nice, I'm reasonable, I'm tranquila. Really I am. I don't yell or call anyone stupid. I'm patient. I'm grateful for the help so I treat people like I would want to be treated. I generally let the workers do their own thing at their own pace, within reason as long it is isn't going to damage our things. El Jefe tells me that I'm too nice and too friendly. But this girl had Attitude.

After a generally unpleasant morning, the girl was washing dishes. Bang! Bang! Clunk! Clatter! Clunk! I've never heard such a noise from washing dishes. She was tossing them into the sink for rinsing and then piling them up precariously to dry, where if one thing slipped, they would all go crashing.

I asked her to be careful so as not to break anything. She said, "No, I'm not going to break anything." I tried to show her how to stack the dishes neatly on the racks so they wouldn't slip and break. "No, they are fine." I explained how stacking the heavy pots on top of the delicate things wasn't a good idea. "No, don't worry. This is how I always do it." "But this is how I want it done." In response: Bang, bang, clatter!, as she tossed a few more dishes into the sink.

Finally, I started rearranging the dishes myself and found a big chunk broken out of one of the bowls. "Look," I calmly said. "This is what happens when you aren't careful with the dishes." Rather than an apology or at least a little embarrassment, I got yelled at. "No! I didn't do that! It was already there! You must have done it!"

Ooh-ooh-oooh. I was dumbfounded. I felt my ears turning red and my hair standing on end. If there is one thing I can't stand, it is chipped dishes so if it had been chipped before it would have been burned into my brain. I would have noticed it at lunch. It was also the third time that a maid had ruined something and tried to blame it on me! Can you imagine the stupidity of that?

There are only two people living in this house and we don't lie to each other or blame our mistakes on others. I know that bleach poured straight on my sheets will burn holes in them. I know that a brillo pad will ruin non-stick pans. I know how to turn on something without breaking the handle off, and what is more, El Jefe knows that I know these things! But somehow these maids think that El Jefe will believe them, a complete stranger, over me. It's crazy.

I thought for just a few seconds and realized that if we were off to such a bad start on the very first morning, it would only be downhill from there, and a waste of time to try to reason with her. I don't like confrontation, but I looked her in the eyes and said ....

"Leave my house." She stared at me in disbelief. "Get your purse and get out of my house!", I clarified. "But you wanted me to work!" she argued again. "I'm not going to have anyone in MY house who breaks my things and then lies about it." "But, I didn't do it! But, but....." "Out! I'll get your pay. I don't want you here." And out she went.

So much for being tranquila. I have to say that it felt good. I enjoyed it. Heheheh! Nobody is going to push around La Gringa anymore. I'd like to say that I hoped that the girl learned a lesson, but I really doubt that.

There is another side to this story. El Jefe had been working outside that day with a long time worker Carlos. Carlos was very aware of the problems we've had with undependable and thieving maids and had even warned us a couple of times. El Jefe had been in and out of the house a few times and had heard some of the conversations. I had also been outside to get his advice about the best Honduran way to handle her disagreeableness, so they both knew a little about the difficulties we were having.

It seems that they had a bet going. El Jefe said that the maid would only last a week. Carlos only gave her two days. So when we both came storming out the front door, barely after lunchtime on the first day, with me shoving some money into her hands, they both burst out laughing.

The maid made one last parting plea to El Jefe, but he told her, "She's the boss."

Here we go again on the new maid roller coaster

Image from: Picdit.com

I kept the new maid a secret from you. If I wrote about my excitement of having a new maid, I was afraid that I would have to write to say that she didn't show up for work the next day. I've written sooo many of those articles that I had to set up a separate category. I was glancing through some of the articles and it was very sad.

One day last month, the neighbor's cook came around to ask about something. She and El Jefe got to talking and he asked if she knew anyone who wanted to work. She immediately answered, "Awwwk! The women in La Ceiba do not want to work!" and went on and on about how lazy and undependable the (poor) women of La Ceiba are. But she ended the conversation by saying that she would try to find someone who wasn't from La Ceiba. We weren't hopeful.

The following morning she showed up with a woman originally from Tocoa, a middling-size town near Trujillo, Honduras. She rattled off that this was her neighbor Arexy, that she (the cook) had told Arexy we would pay L.150 per day on a bimonthly basis plus L.60 daily for taxi transportation, that it took too long and too difficult to get from their barrio to our colonia by bus. El Jefe was a little taken aback since we hadn't discussed the pay or transportation, but we said (to ourselves later), "What the heck! Who knows if she'll even come back tomorrow."

We had a brief chat with her trying to find out a little more about her situation (to see if she was going to be another one- or two-day wonder − not that you can ever really tell). Our house was admittedly a filthy pig sty so I tried to reassure her that we didn't expect that she could clean it in a day or even two days, and that the most important thing was to clean thoroughly − for the mother-in-law's inspection, as they say here − not to clean quickly.

She mentioned that her father has been mean to her, telling her to "get out and get a job!" She is 27 and has a child here in La Ceiba as well as two more children living with their father in Tocoa. She doesn't say much about the former husband, but she seemed definite that she won't be going back to him.

She methodically cleaned the first day and I was impressed with and complimented her on her detail work. At the end of the day, when I gave her the taxi money, I asked how she felt about the job and she said she liked it. "So you are coming back tomorrow?" She laughed and said yes. I asked, "Are you sure?" and she assured me again.

The next day, she continued on with a couple of more rooms. She is very quiet and seems afraid to ask questions even though I've told her several times that it is better to ask than to make a mistake and that I won't mind her asking questions. I know that the variety of cleaning products and the fact that the labels are in English can be confusing.

El Jefe asked how she liked working and she again said that she liked cleaning. She mentioned that she never had a job before (we didn't know that!) but that she liked cleaning her own house and her dad's house. I think that she also likes the luxury of taking a taxi to and from work. She also expressed concern that maybe we thought that she was working too slow. El Jefe reassured her that a good job was more important to us than speed.

Each day, El Jefe and I had discussions like, "I wonder if she'll come back tomorrow" and "I'm glad that we only have to pay her twice a month so maybe we can at least get the whole house cleaned before she quits". I would excitedly tell El Jefe about seeing her stick the dust rag in between the carvings on the wood furniture to remove ALL the dust or moving the furniture to get the corner of the floors clean. He would look at me worriedly and say, "Well, just don't get too hopeful." He even discussed his concerns with his mother, that I was going to get attached and be disappointed yet again. You can see how all of these bad maid experiences have turned me into an insecure wuss.

Arexy has been like only one other maid that we've had. She comes to work every day (it has generally been 2-3 days per week), she comes on time, she doesn't leave early or ask to leave early, she dresses neatly and modestly, and she does a good job. She never complains or argues with me or asks me to give her things and she seems very happy to have a job. It's only been a month, but I'm so hopeful.

(We had one maid who dressed as if she had an after hours job hooking on the streets. She was a big lady but squeezed her body into clothes 2-3 sizes too small for her with rolls of fat protruding from every edge. I can tell you that she has had C-section births and how long her scar is. I never knew that a C-section scar could make a belly fold in two lengthwise. It was not a pleasant sight.)

Arexy only came late one day. When El Jefe said that he thought that she wasn't coming that day, she sheepishly admitted that she overslept. I didn't say anything to her about it, but she ended up working an hour late − on her own − to make up for it! In fact, she's not a clock watcher at all. I have to remind her when it is 4 o'clock but she will always finish what she is doing first. I have to nag her to take a lunch break.

At the end of second week, she asked for an advance of L.500. My mind immediately went into red alert since our experience has been that paydays or requests for advances are always a crap shoot. Once the worker is paid, you really never know whether or not they are going to come back. My only hope was that since we owed her much more than L.500, she would be back. I sadly told El Jefe later about the advance. He raised his eyebrows and gave me that knowing look: "Hmmm, we'll see."

She came back. And she came back after payday, too. We are now beginning our second month and I have such high hopes! Again!

And the contest winner is....

Congratulations!

The winner of the frying pan contest is...ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum:

Wow! Don Ray, being a wise, long-time, experienced expat blogger in Panamá blew my contest out of the water in the first 38 minutes! He said:

"This is what happens to a Teflon pan when a Latin American maid washes it with a brillo pad."

I was hesitant about this contest because I knew that expats in Central America would have a huge edge. Don Ray: You are going to receive one of La Gringa's original design, one-of-a-kind recycled plastic market bags. I've been giving them away as I make them, so I need to rebuild my stockpile. I'll send you some photos when I get a few finished and you can pick the one you like best. In the meantime, you could let me know if a particular size, shape, or color would work best for you, e.g. veggie market bag size, laptop size, manly black color, etc.

There were some pretty funny responses to the contest. My personal favorite was:

islandgal246 said...

well your pot has had enough abuse and will be lodging a complaint with the relevant authorities.

I have to admit that I'm glad that Haiku Joy did not win. I can't imagine how much it would have cost to mail something to Japan or how many years it would take to get there, if it ever did.

Rep made me chuckle since he obviously analyzed the photo and put some thought into it but ALL of his (her?) assumptions were incorrect. ;-D
Rep said...

It is a pan with both new and old damage to the teflon, indicating this was not a one time incident where a maid washed it with a brillo pad. It is an old pan and likely only used for outdoor cooking these days. The photo was taken outside, which would lead me to believe you were maybe camping or for some reason cooking outdoors. If there is significance to the fact that it is empty, I would say someone lost or forgot the food items to be cooked.

And the best serious response was from Rodrigo:

talvez falta de comida que sufre muchas personas en este mundo por tanta pobreza en los paises de latino america especialmente mi pais honduras para mi que eso significa una olla vacia
Rodrigo

[Translation: Perhaps the lack of food that many persons suffer in this world because of so much poverty en the countries of Latin America, especially my country of Honduras. For me, that means an empty pot.]

Several of you had the correct or very close to correct response, but unfortunately, Don Ray beat you to it. I also realized after I posted the contest that the email readers were at a big disadvantage since they wouldn't receive the article until the following morning. If I do another contest, I'll try to work out the timing better. Thinking of a contest that will be a challenge to you readers is....well, a challenge!

For those of you who think that I do so much cooking that I wear out my pans, I have to dispel that fantasy before El Jefe gets on here to tell you how it really is!

Actually, the full and complete answer would have been "La Gringa got a new maid and the maid ruined her favorite non-stick pan with a Brillo pad."

Of course, on the very first day I told the new maid not to use Brillo pads and even not to use the harsh green plastic scrubby pads. "Only use a sponge or the white plastic scrubby pads," said me, "because these black pans have a special coating that will be ruined if you use anything else. These things (demonstrated in my hand) will scratch the surface." In fact, I even pulled out several other non-stick items and mentioned that all of these things need to be cleaned ONLY with the sponge or white scrubby. "Anything that is black inside is special."

It seemed so simple: Silver inside − use whatever you need to clean them. Black inside − only use soft things to clean them.

She has been here a month, not every day, but I use that pan so often that I know that she has washed it many times before. Whatever possessed her to decide that THIS time, ALL of the black coating needed to be removed, I'll never know.

It is particularly sad for me because after my previous favorite non-stick fry pan was ruined by a maid, I searched literally for years for another heavy quality pan in La Ceiba and San Pedro. They just do not exist here. I finally ordered a good quality pan from Amazon. I had it sent to my sister-in-law in Texas and waited an additional 7 months or so for her to bring it to me! If I recall, they were planning to visit in the summer but ended up canceling their trip so I had to wait until they came at Christmas. All in all, I waited a good 3 years to get this pan. I loved it! Boohoo.

So, as Deena mentioned, a new fry-pan is back on my wish list again. Sigh. El Jefe says that I should just throw away all of the Brillo pads and scratchy scrubbies. But we need them for some things! What to do, what to do? I could wash the pans myself, but there will be a time sooner or later when she gets to the pan before I do.

Oh, well. Life in Honduras. In every other way, I love, love, love this maid! I'll tell you more in another article.

Frank, the end of the story

Frank working on banana plants

I wrote about Frank, a 23-year-old-or-so, who we had hired temporarily to do some yard work. Frank was a decent guy and relatively intelligent. He seemed really good compared to the other guy that we hired at the same time. The second guy was a serious shovel leaner who did virtually nothing unless El Jefe was around watching him.

We ended up keeping Frank on for awhile as we always have projects. He was pleasant, polite, and very dependable. We taught him how to do the garden upkeep and other things. He helped us with some painting and building some shelves for the garage, as well as the yard work. He helped with blogging, too, as he was always bringing me snakes and bugs to photograph.

One Saturday when I was talking to Frank about what we would do on Monday, we got into the conversation about him going to the US.

He left and was gone for a few weeks and then came back around again to see if we had more work. We hired him back though he was clear that he would be trying to go to the US again in the future.

Frank became less and less dedicated and even disappeared for long times during the day. Once El Jefe caught him sleeping in our car, once in the former maid's room, and once I caught him sleeping in the shade on the sidewalk. What work he was doing was often taking five times longer than it should have.

When it got to the point that the work he was actually accomplishing could be done in a day rather than a full week, El Jefe told him that we didn't need him anymore but that he could come on Fridays to mow the lawn and do the basic yard work. I didn't think we'd ever see him again, but he was able to get a full-time job minus Fridays with the contractor across the street.

That worked for awhile, then he started missing days with all sorts of weak excuses. He also "needed" to leave a couple of hours early most days. When he hadn't come back for a month one time, we were surprised to see him at the gate one day, asking for his job back. It seems that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was shot in the shoulder by some gang members in the colonia where he lives with his parents.

Being the nice and stupid people that we are, we hired him back again. Not long afterward, El Jefe saw him one day in town walking down the street talking on a L.7,000 (US $370) cellphone. A week or so later, El Jefe was working on something and discovered that a very expensive saw was missing. He was convinced that Frank stole it and there really is no other explanation. Our garage is always locked except when Frank was here. If someone was able to get into the garage, they certainly would have taken other tools as well. Only one tool at a time would fit in the backpack that Frank carried with him, however.

We didn't want to believe that Frank would steal from us (as usual!). El Jefe kept him on for another couple of weeks, but kept the garage locked only pulling out the lawnmower and whatever tools Frank would need that day. Frank swore that he didn't steal the tool. After a couple of weeks he quit showing up.

So that's the end of the Frank story. We haven't tried to find anyone else since then, just as I haven't tried to find another maid.

It's just so hard to figure out. We are in the position where we could help a couple of people at least to have an honest job. It would be nice to have some help, too. Sure, those aren't prime jobs and there is nowhere to move up the ladder. There are no Supervisor of Grounds Maintenance or Manager of Household Staff positions at La Gringa's house that someone could strive for.

But, if you are in a situation where your family doesn't have enough to eat or you can't take your children to a doctor, isn't an honest job with an above-average salary working for decent people something to hang on to? If someone has no education, no experience, no talents, and no drive what else is it that they think they can find? My only guess is that it is a handout. And baring the handout, it is stealing whatever it is in their twisted minds that they think they are entitled to.

Based on this experience and many others, I have finally learned one thing. That is that when an employee starts slacking off or missing work, there is no chance that they are going to realize the error of their ways. There is no reasoning with them and the thought "I better straighten up or I'll lose this job" is NEVER in a million years going to cross their minds. Joyce in Panama wrote an honest evaluation of her experience there − there are so many similarities.

This behavior is a signal that they no longer want to work, that they are satisfied with their life of poverty, at least satisfied enough with it not to make any effort to change it. It is a signal that they'll either be quitting soon and/or be checking around for 'severance pay' that they can take with them on their last day − which, of course, you won't know is their last day until they never show up again.

Most of us would like to believe that all people need is a hand up, a helping hand, a chance to learn and improve their lot in life. I won't give up thinking that, but I'm realistic enough now to know that it is NOT true for many.

No more second chances from me!


Update: I drafted this a while back and we do have a young guy doing some major clean up in the garden right now. He's very nice and doing a great job, but the garage door is staying locked at all times.

Oh, silly, silly, silly me

Late Saturday afternoon, two girls (late teens, I think) came around looking for work. On a whim, "I said come back on Monday morning." I've been sick and even light efforts make my head hurt. I've been doing some laundry, some cooking, and keeping the kitchen reasonably clean, but nothing more than that. The floors and bathrooms are starting to look nasty.

Young girls generally are not reliable and are not likely to be a long-term solution, unless it is one of those situations where the parents can't feed them and they send them to live with and work for someone. But if you've been reading this blog, you know that the mature ladies haven't been any better, so what the heck. I decided to see what would happen.

I really just wanted someone to work this week to do some deep cleaning to get me by until I feel better. I thought that they might be enticed at the thought of making enough to buy a new outfit for the disco on Saturday or a cell phone, if on the off-off-off chance that they didn't already have a cell phone. Based on experience, I wasn't foolish enough to think that they were looking for a permanent job, but if they were, who knows where that would take us.

They repeated, "Come back on Monday?" and I said "Si." "What time?" "Come at 8 a.m." They said, "A las ocho. Gracias!" and sounded very happy.

El Jefe rolled his eyes when I told him later.

Monday morning rolls around. I get up at 7 a.m., take a shower, make the coffee, and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Silly, silly, silly me.

It can't be the pay − because we didn't talk about that.
It can't be the hours − because we didn't talk about that.
It can't be the size or condition of the house − because they didn't see it.
It can't be me − because I didn't yell at them, insult them, or hit them. I merely gave them what they were asking for, a job.

Oh, yeah: "The women of La Ceiba do not want to work." When am I going to remember that?

Some things I've learned about work in Honduras

Ratio: 2 shovel leaners : 2 workers

Monday is not really a work day.

Saturday morning is designated as a half-day work day, but it really is just a day that an employee goes to the workplace to wait four hours for their weekly pay. The law says that the work week is 5 1/2 days, but that the workers are paid for 6 days. If the worker misses Monday, they are only paid for actual days worked.

No matter how desperate someone says they are for a job, they will not come to work every day.

A waiter's job is to take the order, bring the food and drink (one time only − if your glass is empty, it's not their problem), and collect for the check. Period.

Workers who cannot remember how to perform a duty from morning until afternoon will have a complete grasp of the labor laws and their benefits.

Todos saben todos. (Everyone knows everything.)
Anyone who once watched a house being painted is a painter.
Anyone who once mixed concrete is an albañil (brick layer).
Anyone who has worked as an albañil is a contractor.
Anyone who has glued a leaky pipe back together is a plumber.

If it isn't done "that way" in Honduras, it is wrong. No hay de otra. (There is no other way.)

If you find that rare good and conscientious worker, you must cherish them as if they were your long-awaited only child.


If this sounds cynical, just ask any employer!

You were right, I was wrong

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me fifteen times, and I am an idiot.

Once again I feel slapped in the face for believing in someone.


The week before Christmas, the maid Nora was sick. El Jefe talked to her on previous Sunday when he was trying to call her husband about something else. She really sounded sick and he told her not to come until she felt better. So, of course, she took off the whole week. Justified or not, I don't know.

Friday of that week, he called to see if she could come on Saturday and found that she and the kids had gone on a trip way off in the mountains to visit Carlos' family for the holidays. I did think it was odd since the prior week she had to have an advance for bus fare (L.12; US $0.63) to get to work.

Of course, all these days off are always without any sort of notice or warning at all. That's normal in Honduras. When someone wants a day or week or month off, they just take it. Every pay day is a crap shoot as to whether you will ever see your employee again. Seriously. I'm not exaggerating.

I was even planning on giving her a Christmas bonus to make her holidays a little better. I rethought that idea after all the unannounced missing days, then it became a moot point later, because I never saw her again.

Worst of all, El Jefe discovered something missing. Something valuable, not only in cost but even more so in sentimental value. We've had many things taken over the years. A few valuable things went missing before we ever had a maid when the only people in our apartment were "friends." Probably more than half of the maids we've hired have absconded with less important things. Maybe all of them. I don't take inventory before and after. When we later find things missing, we can sometimes pinpoint it to a particular person and sometimes not.

We thought Nora was different. Nora's husband Carlos worked for us for several years and was always honest and honorable. We trusted him outside and inside the house and never had reason to regret that. Nora had worked for us for a few months on and off in the past and we always assumed that she had similar moral values. We've been to their house. We've shared meals with them. We sat with her at the hospital before her last baby was born. One year I cooked them a complete Christmas turkey dinner which we delivered to them hot on Christmas Eve. So when the item was found missing, we originally assumed it had been misplaced.

But the house has been scoured. The item has not been found. It is possible that El Jefe lost it, but highly improbable. From the time he last remembers seeing it until it was discovered missing, Nora and her son Jounger were the only other people who had access to that part of the house. Maybe that is the reason that he came. If someone somehow was able to get into the house unnoticed, there are many more things that would be missing. The fact that she had money for a trip and never came back to work makes me even more convinced that she did take it.

My guess is that she sold it for some tiny fraction of it's actual value. She may have gotten enough money for a "nice Christmas" if one can have a nice Christmas on ill gotten gains, but no more. Probably right now today, she's wondering how she will be able to feed her children this week or buy them a pair of shoes if, heaven forbid, they should grow out the only pair they have now.

I feel so disheartened. This little thing had a deep meaning for both of us. It can't be replaced. Just as bad is the reinforcement that I can't trust anyone in Honduras and that the people who I thought were the honest ones are only waiting for an opportunity.

I was having connection problems yesterday and couldn't post this article. I started talking to El Jefe about it and the situation and I just burst out crying even though it was a month ago! It hurts to lose the "thing" that meant so much to us, but even more so than that, it hurts to be betrayed by someone who we have had a relationship with for five years and have always helped them when they needed help. We thought they were friends.

I feel like I've lost that last shred of trust and faith in the basic goodness of Hondurans that I was trying so hard to maintain. If it wasn't for El Jefe and his good and decent family, I think I would be ready to go back home. How do you live not being able to trust anyone? Now I'm crying again.

Got patience?

Through the kitchen window

Life in Honduras takes a lot of patience.

I know that cleaning house isn't rocket science but I do have to do a lot of very basic training. I understand that someone who doesn't have glass windows in their house is probably not going to know how to clean them. Someone who has a dirt floor may not know how to properly clean a ceramic tile floor. Someone who does not own a cabinet or a piece of wood furniture probably doesn't realize that dousing it with water is not a good thing.

(Yeah, they always say they are experienced, but what that really means is that they had a job for a day and a half sometime in the past five years.)

Before we hire anyone, we always say that we have our own way of doing things and it may be different than they are used to. We tell them that we would expect them to be flexible to our ways. They always eagerly agree.

Starting with day one, I have to say to every maid, "Do not use bleach on the floor, the clothes, the sheets, OR the towels. Never use bleach on anything unless I give you permission and then I will show you how to dilute it. Bleach can ruin the clothes. Always ask me first if you think that you need to use bleach."

That sounds like overkill, however, even with repeated reminders, I do not understand why someone would (and has) poured bleach straight from the bottle onto my clothes or sheets and ate holes in them. I do not understand why after ten days of mopping floors with me saying "Please don't use bleach because it is dangerous for the dogs," why on the eleventh day, someone will decide, for some odd reason, that today it will be okay to use bleach on the floor.

Is it stupidity, stubbornness, or rebellion? Or, as one Honduran suggested, are the brain cells of the poor damaged from malnutrition? I don't know but it sure is hard to explain.

Sometimes I think that they think because I am a rich foreigner that I cannot possibly know how to clean house or wash my own clothes. (I'm not rich, by the way, but all foreigners are perceived as rich, and relative speaking, they are.)

Here are some examples of true life conversations:

Clothes Washing Detergent

First day:
LG: This blue spray is for cleaning glass. This purple spray is for cleaning sinks. This Ace blue powder is for washing clothes. It is only for clothes. Don't use it on anything else because it could damage it.
Maid: OK.

Wednesday:
Maid: I'll clean the terraza floor with Ace.
LG: No, Ace is detergent only for washing clothes. Only use it for washing clothes. Don't use it on anything else because it could damage it.
Maid, looking doubtful: OK


Thursday morning:
LG: What did you use to clean the kitchen floor with?
Maid: I used the blue stuff.
LG: What blue stuff? The spray?
Maid: No, the Ace.
LG: No, don't use Ace on the floors. Ace is detergent only for washing clothes. Only use it for washing clothes. Don't use it on anything else because it could damage it.
Maid: Oh...

Thursday afternoon:
LG, pointing: There is some gunk stuck on the floor here. Tomorrow, please use a scrub brush and some water to try to remove it.
Maid: Should I use Ace on it?
LG: No, Ace is detergent for washing clothes. Only use it for washing clothes. Don't use it on anything else because it could damage it.
Maid, still doubtful: OK
LG, pointing outside: Look, do you see those two rows of ceramic tile by the stairs that are shiny?
Maid: Yes.
LG: Do you see the rest of the tile that is dull?
Maid: Yes.
LG: The reason why the other tile is dull is that a maid insisted on using Ace to wash floors. Those last two rows weren't installed until after she left and no one has used Ace on them.
Maid: Uhmmm.

Nonstick Pans

First day:
LG: See these pans that are black inside? This is a special type so that food doesn't stick. Never use metal utensils with them because metal will damage them. Only use wood or plastic spoons − the ones in this drawer. In other words, use these black utensils with the black pans. Also, ONLY wash these pans with a sponge and dish soap, nothing else. Ever, because it will damage them.
Maid: OK.

Later that day:
Maid, picking up a harsh scrubby to clean the nonstick pan.
LG: No, Nora. Remember? The black pans should be cleaned only with a sponge, never anything else.
Maid: But it has a stain.
LG: It doesn't matter. Only use a sponge to clean it, never anything else, because scratchy things will damage it.
Maid: Should I use Ajax?
LG: No, only use a sponge. The stain doesn't matter as long as the pan is clean.
Maid: Then should I use a Brillo pad?
LG: Absolutely not. A Brillo pad will ruin it and I'll have to throw the pan away. Only use a sponge.
Maid: Hmmmm.


I've got patience!

Those are actual conversations. So far Nora doesn't seem to have a bleach fetish, thank goodness, but I don't know how I'm going to break her from the Ace.

El Jefe laughingly read these conversations out loud, but he used a loud, annoyed voice for my part. No! Didn't happen that way. Absolutely not! I was perfectly calm and reasonable and said the things each time as if I had never said them before. I'll probably have to say them again tomorrow.

Sometimes I think that I need a locked cabinet, not for my jewels ;-), but for my Ajax, Ace, bleach, and Brillo pads. I do need to use these things occasionally or I swear I wouldn't even keep them in the house. It's like keeping a loaded gun around.

Down that rabbit hole and out again

Image: Alice's Adventure in Wonderland, Wikipedia

Before I get too far behind, I should give an update on today's Wonderland experience.

As I mentioned in my LG goes through the looking glass article, I have been trying to get Nora to set a time that she would like to come to work. I realize that the buses probably don't have a set schedule − after all this is Honduras − and that she won't always be able to be here right on the dot. I'd just like to have, say, a general half hour range that she might be arriving, at least most days.

So yesterday, with El Jefe's help, we had a long discussion in which he assured her that we would never dock her pay if she was here waiting for us and that La Gringa didn't sleep in just to teach her a lesson. After much talk, finally we pinned her down and Nora said 8:00 a.m. would be good for her and how late would she have to work to get the full pay if she came at 8:00? I said she would need to work until 4:30 p.m. with half an hour for lunch. Yes. She liked that. So it is resolved.

Oh, and do we mind if she takes a shower in the garage bathroom at lunch time? Sure, no problem.

Before she left, just to make sure she hadn't forgotten or changed her mind, I asked her what time she would come tomorrow. "Don't you remember? 8:00 a.m.," she said. Okey-dokey.



So I set my alarm for 7:30 a.m., but birds or the dogs or something woke me up about 7:15. I looked at the clock, grateful that I had another 15 minutes to sleep. Just as I was about to doze off again, I heard dinnggg! I don't hear the doorbell when I'm upstairs sleeping and can just barely hear it if I'm awake. No, it can't be, I thought. It must have been a bird or something. I'm hearing things. Just then, El Jefe rolled over and said, "Uhhh, I thought I heard the doorbell ring...." We both started laughing.

Alice in Wonderland: But it's no use going back to yesterday,
because I was a different person then.

He went down to let her in and remarked that she was early. She cheerfully said, "Oh, I woke up early so I just came."


(Hmmm, so is the arrival time really dependent upon what time she wakes up or what time she catches the bus? Can she catch the bus if she's still asleep? Can she sleep if she catches the bus? How do people wake up who don't have electricity?)

Alice in Wonderland: Curiouser and curiouser!

She put in a good day's work and left at 4:00 p.m. very pleased with her windfall of cash and happy to have Saturday off to spend it.

We are having a going away party for El Jefe's brother on Sunday and Nora is coming to work to help me out on Sunday, too. Life is good. For the moment, anyway. ;D

La Gringa goes through the looking glass

The Nursery Alice, published 1890
Image from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Wikipedia

Alice: But I don't want to go among mad people.
The Cheshire Cat: Oh, you can't help that.
We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.
Alice: How do you know I'm mad?
The Cheshire Cat: You must be. Or you wouldn't have come here.


Sometimes I do feel that I am Alice in Wonderland and that I have come to a world where nothing makes sense to my way of thinking. I often have to double check myself with El Jefe, the Honduran, to find out if it's me or someone else who isn't making sense. (It isn't always me!)

Often when I go off on a tirade about irresponsibility and poor decisions in a blog article, someone will usually comment that that is the Honduran culture, I need to get used to it, and I need to assimilate and be like Hondurans are.

Uh, okay. Does that mean that I get to be irresponsible, too? Apparently not, as I was heartily chastised yesterday morning by Nora, my housekeeper.

(Yes, I decided to give Nora another chance. It will be interesting blog material if nothing else. ;-) )

We called her this week and asked if she wanted to work on Wednesday. She jumped at the chance. "What time should I come?" she asked. I said that since she had problems with the buses, she could come at 7:30 a.m. instead of 7:00.

Alice: Curiouser and curiouser!

I arose early just so I would be dressed and downstairs and ready to let her in at 7:30. So, of course, she came at 8:00 with stories about bus delays. "Fine, fine," says flexible me. "No problem. You can just work an extra half an hour or we can adjust your pay for the hours worked, whichever you prefer."

The Mock Turtle: What is the use of repeating all
that stuff, if you don't explain it as you go on?
It's by far the most confusing thing I ever heard!

Later in the day we had one of those mind boggling Honduran conversations that goes round and round in circles, leaving you totally confused and unsatisfied. She came to me to ask what hours I wanted her to work. I said, "What hours do you want to work, Nora?" She said she would work whatever hours I wanted her to. I said but you have problems with the bus in the morning and get home too late at night (so she has told me), so you tell me what hours you can work, given the bus schedule. But she doesn't know the bus schedule and again insisted that I set the hours.

I said that it really doesn't matter to me, because we can calculate her hourly rate and adjust her pay for whatever hours she can work, so it just depends on whether she wants to or is able to work a full day or not. Again, she insisted that I tell her what time to come.

Starting to get a little exasperated by this time, I said, "Nora, I can say 'come at THIS TIME and leave at THIS TIME' but las muchachas (household workers) always come when they want to and leave when they want to, so just tell me what hours are convenient for you and we'll calculate what your pay would be and then you can decide." Nope! Not going to do it.

Trying to show her how reasonable and flexible I am, I said, for example, if you only want to work 4 or 6 hours a day, that would be fine, too, and we would just adjust your salary to L.xx or L.xx per day. Shocked, she said, "No! It wouldn't be worth it for me to come, because the bus is so expensive."

EXACTLY! I exclaimed, thinking "Eureka! She finally gets it." That is why I suggested a full day of work (8 hours) for a (much) larger salary rather than the part-day that many maids work for a much lower salary. I said, "It's the same for me: It's not worth it for me to pay so much if you aren't going to work the full day. It has to be fair for you and fair for me." I explained that I set the high salary considering her time and the expense of riding the bus. (She knows very well that this is a salary that she could not make anywhere else.) Still no resolution from her but she said that she needs to work a full day.

I said that it would be simpler for me if she would just tell me what time she is able to get here, considering the bus and her responsibilities at home. She did say that she could come at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow because her husband Carlos would be working in this area and could bring her on his bike. I asked if she was sure, that she didn't have to come that early, but no, she said she would come at 7:00. Okay, fine.

So what happened? I forgot to set my alarm and overslept until 8:00 a.m.! I jumped out of bed and rushed downstairs to open the gate for her. She, acting very flustered, exclaimed that she had been waiting for half an hour and had rung the doorbell six times.

(Wait a minute! "Waiting half an hour"? That means that she was half an hour late arriving and I was half an hour late opening the door. Isn't that the same thing???!!!)

I did feel bad. Even when other people are undependable with me, I still have that sense of responsibility and timeliness instilled in my genes. I may have relaxed my expectations of others, but I'm not going to change.

Mad Hatter: No wonder you're late.
Why, this watch is exactly two days slow.

The first time she told me, I just responded that I had overslept and that we can't hear the doorbell from upstairs when the bedroom door is shut. The second time she recounted her lengthy wait and repeated door bell ringing, I sympathized, saying yes, I know how you feel because that is exactly how I felt yesterday when I got up early and you didn't come until 8:00. Me: Smile. Her: Eyes widened. The third time she brought it up, adding, "No me gusta," (I don't like it!), I reminded her that when I said to come at 7:00 before, she came at 7:30, and yesterday when I said to come at 7:30, she came at 8:00, so I really didn't know what time she would come. Smile. (Heh, heh, that got a little surprised look from her.)

Alice: It would be so nice if something
made sense for a change.

I'll have to admit that I was beginning to get a little annoyed at this chastisement from my employee. The first time or two: fine, I deserved it. But the third and fourth times, and then repeating it again to El Jefe a couple of hours later? Tattletale! And besides, I rarely even mention it to her when she comes late and certainly never pound her about it for hours!

After a while, I realized that she was afraid that I would dock her pay because she wasn't working at 7:30 − Another example of how I won't assimilate. Fair is fair to me. If she was here but couldn't work because of me, of course I won't dock her pay even though she apparently seems to think that many Honduran employers would. Conversely, she needs to learn that if she isn't here, she won't be paid. It's that simple.

They don't know it, but those who say that I should go with the flow really don't mean it. They want to pick and choose where they think I should assimilate and where they wouldn't approve if I "did as the Romans". They would be horrified if I docked Nora's pay because I overslept, or paid the miserly wages that most maids make, or "forgot" to go to the bank to pay her at the end of the week, or called her stupid or hounded her to hurry up during the day, as many have told me their previous Honduran employers have done.

All of this may sound like a tirade to you, but, honestly, it isn't! I'm really trying to understand what sometimes seems to me the un-understandable. I'm really almost enjoying the challenge. If I did as many suggested and just forgot about having a maid, I would be giving up. But that would not be assimilating, now would it?

I have figured out one thing: The laid back, sometimes irresponsible culture is okay for the people, but not for those people around them. Okay, it still doesn't make sense, but at least I know now.

Alice: If I had a world of my own,
everything would be nonsense.
Nothing would be what it is,
because everything would be what it isn't.
And contrary-wise, what is, it wouldn't be.
And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?



Quotes are from "Alice's Adventure in Wonderland," a novel written by Lewis Carroll in 1865. It is a story about a young girl who falls through a rabbit hole and ends up in a crazy, seemingly nonsensical world where nothing is as it seems, plants, animals, playing cards, and doorknobs talk, a caterpillar smokes a hookah, and Alice continually grows larger or smaller to adapt to her surroundings. "Through the Looking Glass" was a sequel to Alice in Wonderland.

Another maid dilemma

I have a dilemma. A couple of weeks ago, Carlos, our former long-time worker, called to ask if we needed his wife Nora to come to work as a maid.

Nora worked for us for a couple of months a few years ago. She was very pleasant and basically a hard worker but because she works fast, she didn't always do a great job. Nora, as most of the maids do, has a thing about floors. She once mopped three times in the same day! I have never in my life mopped more than once per week. She left us because she was pregnant with her third child and was having trouble keeping a babysitter for her other two children.

El Jefe and I have talked about this maid thing a lot! We have really, really tried to do things the Honduran way and give someone a full time job even though we don't NEED or even particularly want a full time maid around the house. After the last one, I said, "Enough is enough! Everyone says they want a full-time job so we give it to them and then they don't come to work! From now on we will just hire someone when we NEED them."

We told Carlos that we were just looking for someone once a week but when Nora came, she was so desperate for work and kept asking to come back tomorrow and tomorrow, so I said that she could work on some 'special projects' (deep cleaning) but that after a couple of weeks, the job would just be one or two days per week. Unlike most Honduran women with maids, I do the cooking, the laundry, wash the dishes, and keep the house neat between cleanings, so there just isn't that much to do.

Because she was supposed to be doing detailed and sometimes heavy work and because she comes so far and the bus is expensive (relatively, for her), I was paying her a very good wage, at least 50% more than usual, but I told her that I did expect her to work a full day, none of that 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. stuff.

Well, of course she came late. Of course she needed to leave early and after two days, she missed a day. She worked another two days and I mentioned that if she wanted to take a day off during the week to catch up on her laundry or her own housework, that would be fine, too. We're flexible as long as we know when she is coming and when she is not. 'No, no, no! I need to work!' she said. Because of all the rain, her husband wasn't working and they apparently didn't even have money for food. They live rent free in a house without water or electricity so food and clothes are about their only expenses.

Then she missed two more days, supposedly because of her babysitter, but didn't call or anything. And, yes, poor as she is, she does have a cell phone. She didn't even give me the one-ring-and-hang-up signal to call her back on my minutes. I was annoyed.

On the third day, she showed up at noon to collect her pay and to say that she can't work anymore because her babysitter moved away. Oh, why did I think it would be any different this time?

Well, now it seems that Nora's cousin is staying with them and can babysit and Nora wants to come back to work again. While she is pleasant, agreeable, and basically honest, her work is not quite up to par.

So my dilemma is this: Do I go through the frustration of trying to teach her how to clean things so that they are actually clean with the hope that she will continue working a few months at least? Will I feel like an idiot for trying again for the umpteenth time when she decides after two weeks that she doesn't really want to work?

Unreliable, irresponsible, undependable

Dad Joey and his two boys

It gets so old. This article is at the request of El Jefe. Personally, I'm sick of writing these stories and you are probably sick of reading them.

El Jefe was gone to San Pedro Sula all day on Saturday. A woman called him about the chihuahua pups. Of course she wanted to negotiate the price and he told her that the price he gave was already reduced L.2,000. She called again about 8 p.m. when he was home saying that she agreed to the price and wanted to come to see the pups because she really, really wanted one.

It was kind of late, not to mention that we were busy and very tired, but when you have a potential buyer, you gotta do what you gotta do, so he told her to come on over. We spent 40 minutes with her, answering all her questions, etc., and finally she said she wanted to buy Blackie. She was from Intibuca, staying in La Ceiba only through the next day and wanted to pick him up at 8 a.m. the next morning as she was going back home.

I said that was kind of early, since El Jefe had had to get up at 4 a.m. for his trip to San Pedro and I didn't sleep at all the night before and we were looking forward to sleeping in on Sunday. She insisted so we agreed that she could come at 8 a.m.

So El Jefe got up early on Sunday, and guess what? Of course, she never showed. She didn't call to say she changed her mind. Nothing.

And here is another maid story. Can you believe it?

I have this habit of mentioning that I am looking for a housekeeper to everyone I meet, in the hopes that someone, somewhere, sometime knows one person in this country of 60% poverty who would actually like to have a job.

Two people wrote from the Honduras Living group to say that they might be able to find someone from other parts of Honduras. That sounded interesting, since it seems a well-agreed upon fact that the women of La Ceiba do not want to work. That is from the men of La Ceiba and the Honduran women who hire other women.

Well, we were about to call one of these leads when our electrician showed up at the gate one morning with his aunt. Through a series of mix ups, I didn't get to talk to her that day but El Jefe, worried about getting the house ready for the party on Sunday, called Luis to see if the woman could come help me on Saturday.

She came at 9 a.m., but through another mix up − think of that kid's game "telephone" with me talking to El Jefe who talks to Luis who talks to someone who talks to her − she apparently thought she was only coming for a job interview.

I told her of la fiesta and my desperate need for help and asked her if she could stay at least a few hours to help. She agreed to work Saturday until 4 p.m. She was worried about leaving her house vacant all day, so I let her use my phone to call someone who was going to go stay there until she got back.

We also talked about the job which she acted eager to take. I asked her several times, "are you sure?," and each time she reiterated how much she needed to work, how transportation wasn't a problem, blah, blah, blah. She even asked if I would need her Saturdays and Sundays! I explained that it was a Monday through Friday job for the same pay.

I told her that there was no way we were going to get the whole house cleaned in one day, but I wanted her to concentrate on the cobwebs and dust and the floors. She was a real power-house. I was amazed at how much she got done. Rather than putting pressure on her, a couple of times I almost told her to slow down because she seemed out of breath.

She didn't do much in the way of details but that wasn't what I was looking for and I figured we could work on the detailed stuff next week. I was busy in the kitchen and cleaning up clutter so she could do the dusting, so she was on her own to do things the Honduran way with no interference from me.

She decided to quit at 3 p.m. I was disappointed, but what are you going to do? It happens all the time so I wasn't even surprised. Just the fact that she could clean half of the house in 5 hours shows you that this is not a hard job.

We ended up sitting at the breakfast table chatting about her life for about an hour. She has lived in Mexico and in the U.S., until she was "detained for two months by immigration." "Detained?" asks me. "Yes, prison," says her. I asked about that experience and she said that they were very nice to her, gave her nice clothes, and that the food was very good.

Finally, I said that I needed to get back to work and asked if she was coming back on Monday. She said "Of course!" and I told her she could come at 8 a.m.

Monday comes around and guess what? No show. I hadn't even paid her for Saturday because I was so sure she was coming back on Monday.

Thinking back, I remember that she kept talking about visas and had the mistaken impression that a US American could fill out some paperwork and bingo!, a visa would be issued. I kept assuring her that it didn't work that way and that it was very difficult for a Honduran to get a visa now. Maybe a visa was all she was really looking for, not a job. Oh, yeah, like I'm so powerful that I can hand out U.S. visas to complete strangers.

El Jefe says that we are fools to believe any single thing that any person tells us. He is more angry and frustrated than I am. It's not just experience with maids, either, it is the same with stores, businesses, tradesmen, you name it. It's hard not to think, "Well, no wonder this is a third world country." Doesn't anyone ever do what they say they are going to do?

And before the politically correct people jump all over me, let me just point out that these people weren't raised in the jungle by wolves. They are intelligent enough to know right from wrong and personal responsibility and all that, but they just choose not to care. So maybe they deserve what they have. I'll tell you one thing: If she had shown up on Monday and I had said, "Oh, never mind, I changed my mind," she would have been madder than hell.

Don't think that people aren't smart enough to know that it is important to show up for work on their first day, because that is really being condescending.

And another thing: I don't want to hear about cultural differences either! I know plenty of Honduran people who feel exactly the same way I do.

El Otro Lado, otra vez (The Other Side, again)

Mario and Frank working on our 'banana plantation'

Frank, our "temporary" workman, hasn't come to work for the past two days.

A couple of weeks ago, he told me that he is heading back to el otro lado (the other side), the U.S., the land of milk and honey, chasing his sueño americano (the American dream) to the place where everyone is rich. I'll be sorry to see him go but mostly I worry about what might happen to him on the journey. I half-heartedly tried to talk him out of it last time, but the reality is that leaving Honduras is his only hope of a decent life.

Last time he made it all the way to the U.S. border before he was caught by the Mexican officials and sent back. He was lucky that nothing bad happened to him. Lots of times these travelers get beaten, robbed, raped, or worse. See this recent article in the Houston Chronicle where Honduran illegal immigrants were tied up in a house in Katy, Texas, while their captor (also Honduran) tried to extort more money from relatives.

Frank saw someone get his arm cut off on the last trip. The immigrants ride through Mexico by hanging onto trains or climbing on top of the train cars. If they can't stay awake, they fall and it's usually under the train. It's very common and part of the risk that many take to try to achieve a better life than they can find here in Honduras.

With it getting harder and harder to get into the U.S. and more and more people being deported every year, you might think that this emigration from Honduras would slow down. It won't. There is nothing here for the majority of people except a life of poverty and despair, so they will go somewhere. Maybe more will try to stay in Mexico or go to other countries, but they won't stay here. This Washington Post article about Honduran deportees is very informative.

Frank has been a pretty good worker since he came back although we have had some problems recently with him disappearing during working hours. El Jefe caught him sleeping in the unused maid's room once and another time in El Jefe's car! El Jefe has been wanting to let him go for quite a while now but I always have new projects that he can work on. It's a luxury to have someone working full time, but I feel that it is some small thing that we can do to help at least one person and of course, it helps us, too.

He was very dependable at first, but began to slack off after he came back from his first trip. To make a long story short, a couple of months ago I convinced El Jefe to take him to a dentist to have a problem taken care of. When he came back to work (after a full two weeks off!), he was goofing off big time and in fact, was gone for several hours a day apparently visiting a friend at the construction site across the street.

Finally one day, I spent most of the day looking for him. I was furious. The next day, we confronted him. I said that I was very disappointed that we had done something (expensive) for him only to be kind to him, without asking for repayment or even thanks, but he was repaying us by cheating us out of an honest day's work.

I told him that I would have to think very hard about the next person who needed help. Blah, blah, blah. I think he got my point and said "you're right." Usually in a situation like this, the person is insulted that you call them on what they are doing wrong and will immediately quit, so even though he agreed, I was a little surprised that he came back to work the next day.

He has been working steadily since then. We owe him two days pay for this week and I was going to give him some extra for the trip (prestaciones) so I'm surprised if he left without saying goodbye. The thing about Honduras is that when workers don't come to work, you just never know if they are sick or quit or just didn't feel like working that day. Usually they don't leave with you owing them money, though.

Well, despite all of that, Frank has been one of the best workers we've had and if he makes it to the U.S., I think he will do well. At least he's had a little experience with demanding gringos and he has learned a few things about painting, gardening, wood work, and the American work ethic.

Prestaciones

Honduras has a legal custom known as prestaciones. Basically it is a monetary payment due to employees who quit or are fired from their jobs. I think that the custom comes from the fact that there are no real retirement benefits for most employees, no social security, and no unemployment benefits. The amount is roughly 5% of the total amount that the employee has been paid over the years. The calculation is a little more complicated than that − this is just to give you an idea.

I have mixed feelings about prestaciones. On the one hand, when a worker loses his job through no fault of his own, he should be entitled to some payment to tide him over until he can find another job. Employers shouldn't be allowed to discard employees on a whim and they should be required to contribute something to the person's retirement.

On the other hand, when workers get fired for doing a bad job, or stealing, or not coming to work, I don't think they deserve a reward. But in Honduras, it is virtually impossible not to pay prestaciones no matter what the situation.

Here is an example: Workers were building a house for an American couple. The Americans found out that not only were they building their house, they were also building a house for the contractor, on the Americans' time and with the American's money and materials. The workers and a ferretería (hardware store) employee were in collusion with the contractor.

When the Americans fired the contractor, the contractor's employees stole all the American's tools. A few days later they filed suit to sue the Americans for the wages not paid by the contractor and for prestaciones. I haven't heard the outcome, but I hope the Americans have a good attorney, because it is likely that they will lose the case.

Prestaciones result in very bad employees working forever at a job because the employer cannot afford to come up with the lump sum to pay them off. I think this is a big reason for the low quality of customer service in this country. Some employees do their best to get fired so they can collect the windfall.

One hardware store owner told us that he knows that he has very lazy and rude employees but that he can't afford to fire them. I say that he can't afford not to.

Some of the larger employees, like Dole Pineapple, have found ways around prestaciones. The bulk of their workers are provided by a "temporary" labor agency, who rotates them in and out every 3 months to avoid the liability for prestaciones and other benefits. This, in my opinion, is shameful. But jobs are next to impossible to find for field workers so there is really nothing they can do.

One Dole employee was recently fired after 14 years. He went to an attorney to find out about getting prestaciones to tide him and his family over until he could find another job. He only asked for L10,000 ($529 U.S.) but the attorney made a claim to Dole for L.27,000 ($1,429 U.S.) and kept the difference.

The employee had asked El Jefe's mother to go with him to the attorney. She is well respected in the village where they live and is often asked to accompany people when they have a problem to work out. In this case, I'm not sure if she was asked because the worker couldn't read or not, but that is often the case.

She looked over the papers and asked the attorney why would he try to cheat this poor man? But the attorney told the man to sign the paper (which said he received L. 27,000) and the man, not wanting to cause a fuss with such an important man as an attorney, did so. He received L.10,000 and the attorney pocketed L.17,000. El Jefe's mother was so upset that she ended up in the hospital later that evening.

If you are interested in other aspects of Honduran labor law, page 12 of this Doing Business in Honduras document gives some highlights. The minimum wage of U.S. $153 mentioned in the document is per month. This document oddly does not mention prestaciones.

Whatever the concept of prestaciones was developed for, it's not working. Often the people who deserve them, don't get them, and the people who don't, do.