I’ve seldom scored brownie points with either of my in-laws. Before last night, I’d certainly never received gushing praise from them for my efforts. To be honest, I’d thought the likelihood of such an occurrence to be infinitesimal. That’s why I plan to savor yesterday’s burst of goodwill to the fullest, even if my contribution was purely accidental.
The genesis of the milestone event occurred over the weekend, when my wife’s mother threw out her back. The injury proved untimely, since the only other woman in the abode – daughter-in-law Gina – had just departed the State for a week. Inasmuch as neither of the resident males wished to assume the women’s chores, Sophia’s father asked her to procure a substitute housecleaning service “at a reasonable price.” She in turn delegated the task to yours truly, citing a “crazy busy schedule” at work.
Recognizing the disasters which typically result when the Mrs. uses words like “favor” and “my parents” in the same sentence, I attempted to excuse myself. Sophia wouldn’t hear of it though, exasperatedly telling me: “Look Richard, I’m desperate; and even you should be able to handle this without screwing up.” Notwithstanding her father’s instructions, she added: “Never mind the money. Just call the same service we use and send them to my parents’ house. It’ll take you all of two minutes!”
Only after Sophia hung up did I realize that I didn’t have the telephone number for our cleaners and didn’t even know the company’s name. She’s the one who always deals with them. Since I was already running late for a meeting, I didn’t want to waste time calling her back. I instead retrieved the folded flier from a cleaning service which I’d discovered on my car’s windshield the other day. I flipped the paper to its bottom portion and dialed the listed number.
Because Sophia hadn’t specified any extra cleaning needs, I declined the unspecified “special packages” offered by the lady answering the phone. I simply ordered the company’s “standard service.” That service took place yesterday.
While straightening up my vehicle’s interior this morning, I happened upon the flier once again and perused it in full for the first time. The read-through brought certain previously unnoticed facts to my attention, including the following:
1) The company’s name is “Fantasy Maids of Georgia”;
2) The “fantasy” label derives from the maids’ unusual uniforms which, for their standard service, consist solely of racy lingerie; and
3) For customers willing to pay through the nose for special packages, the maids will perform their tasks topless, or even entirely in the buff!
My in depth review of the flier shed new light on the telephone call I received from my father-in-law last evening. At the time, I’d marveled that the man who normally treats every conversation with me like a hostage negotiation not only dialed my number unsolicited, but wanted to thank me – profusely – for arranging the “excellent cleaning service.” I’d also wondered at the notorious cheapskate’s abrupt change of heart, when he voiced no complaint about the amount Fantasy Maids had charged. Instead, he’d confided: “Richard, now that I know there’s a dependable maid service to fill in every week, I’ve decided to let your mother-in-law visit the kids in Jersey this summer for as long as she likes. I might even spring for the company’s special package, so the house’ll look perfect while she’s gone!”