DON'T SPOIL THE HELP By Margie Harrell

The first thing I was told when I moved to Mexico three years ago was not, "don't drink the water" but "don't spoil the help." When I asked what this meant, I only received a shake of the head, a lowering of the eyes and "don't spoil the help."

Employing a maid was something new for me but I soon learned that it was the way of the country so who was I to buck the system? Mopping floors was never my favorite thing to do, so this was going to work out great for me.

I inherited my first maid with the house I am renting. She came twice a week, cleaned a little and ate very well. After two months I knew this wasn't going to work out, so when she didn't show up for work for ten days, I let her go. I think I felt worse than she did about it. My friends assured me I had done the right thing, surely IF didn't want to "spoil the help."

Imelda came to me through a friend; highly recommended I might add. She was quiet, efficient and reliable. What more could I ask for? We spoke very little at first as my Spanish left much to be desired but as the months passed, I would inquire about her family. She has five children, the last one having been a total surprise but a delight to all.

I have met the children and we have become "amigos," much to the horror of my friends. When Imelda had a persistent cough, I took her for a chest ex-ray, when the baby had the flu, I gave her a few pesos more that week. And so it went. She worked hard for me and I rewarded her accordingly.

One day as I sat at my typewriter, Imelda hesitantly asked if it had cost very much. Remembering what I paid for my machine in the U.S., I replied "not much." By my standards it hadn't cost much, but to her, a typewriter was unattainable. Should I pursue this conversation. Better not, I knew where it might be heading. Imelda has a 16-year-old son who desperately wanted to continue his education, but in Mexico you have to provide all your own materials, including adding machine, typewriters, etc. I was impressed that this Mexican family had the foresight to think of years down the road; manana is usually off in the future and not to be bothered with today.

But I let the subject drop. Weeks went by and I had a planned trip up to the States. Could I look for a used typewriter up there for her? She would pay me for it. I half-promised, not giving it much thought. I had more important things on my mind.

When I returned from my trip I wasn't happy at all. Imelda had been left to take care of my 14-year-old cat and he was thin and nervous when I arrived home. I was beside myself and immediately got a Spanish-speaking friend on the phone to convey my distress to Imelda. She said she had fed him every day, was that not what I had asked her to do? Mexican animals are not babied and coddled and overfed like American pets are, so she didn't know that he needed some T.L.C. every day. I took two giant steps back from our friendship and decided I wouldn't "spoil the help" ever again.

Another trip came up unexpectedly and I had to leave for ten days. I was in a panic, I just knew I would come home to a dead cat. During my entire trip, my mind was on Mexico. Was everything alright, should I cut my trip short and return early? Not to worry. When I arrived at the house, the cat didn't even come to greet me! He was fat and sassy and could have cared less about me. I think she even brushed his coat while I was away. Early the next morning I was on my way to Guadalajara to buy a typewriter. I got the best one they had in the store and was happy to do it. Imelda arrived for work that day with a smile on her face, "gato is bien?" she asked. "Si," I replied and brought out the box with the machine in it. The tears flowed, from both of us. It was a dream come true for her and for me, a feeling of knowing I had made a dear friend here in my new homeland.

A week later I received a short note, typewritten I might add, from her son, Juan Carlos, thanking me for the opportunity to advance his education and especially for helping his whole family to make a better life through the many opportunities he would now have as a "maquina operador."

I think I will continue to "spoil the help."

(Ed. Note: Having read and been touched by the many articles Margie has written for us, I must finally publicly pay her a compliment that I should have given her a long time ago. No ex-pat I have ever met has sensed and so beautifully caught the humor, sadness, nobility and uniqueness of the Mexican people. Mexico is better off for having found a friend in Ms. Harrell.)