Good Help is Hard to Find

Addendum to yesterday's post: Upon further study of the public bathrooms, I think that while they serve the homeless, they are actually for neighborhoods/areas without running water.

The "electrician" never came back and after talking to George about what he said to the landlord about the creepy hugging, I am not surprised. Who needs a dryer? But apparently when Sir spoke to the landlord, there was some confusion about whether he was talking about the electrician or the maid-boy. The maid-boy, he said, was not a problem...until yesterday.

I had been hearing about this fruit and vegetable market for a while but was not sure if I was really up for an authentic Indian market until recently. I feel more confident about how to handle the constant stream of people trying sell me something, beg from me or ask me what it is I need. Still, for as good as I think I'm getting, Vivian is ten times better at dealing with the Indians, so I invited her to come. Aside from the large, drooling cow footsteps away from the entrance way, the market was pretty nice. There were flowers that were just about to bloom, fruits and vegetables that were brightly colored and unbruised and super cheap. Everything definitely looked better than what you find in the grocery stores. The was a wide aisle down the center with about 7 or 8 different rows with more aisle that spread out perpendicular from the center aisle. The side aisles were very narrow and the men selling the goods sat high above the ground peeking out over their piles of fruits and vegetables. When you stopped to buy something, they would hand you a plastic bin, then you fill it with what you want, hand it back for them to weigh it and call out a price. Then you complain that's too high and shout out something too low and eventually end up somewhere in the middle. Then you walk away realizing you were arguing over 10 cents.

I had heard that this excursion should happen in the morning so you get a fresh selection. The maid-boy also comes in the morning (usually). And I have been very conscious about keeping what little valuables we have here locked in my bag. However, I also used that bag last weekend so in my haste to get to the market, I forgot to lock the back room. I didn't even realize it until I came home and the maid-boy was on the way out. I was pleasantly surprised that he had not locked himself in, had brought us more water and had brought back a credit card we had given him to pay the rent. Literally, two minutes after I walked in, he was gone. And then I realized I had left the back room open. So I scour the room and see our passports, a bracelet I had left out, and our camera all seemingly untouched. In the bag I had used over the weekend, I had 15 US dollars in an inner, zipped pocket - the last "valuable" I really had. The money was gone! There was not a doubt in my mind that I was somehow mistaken. There was NO possibility that I had spent it and forgot and no possibility that I moved it to another bag or place. It's been in the same pocket of the same bag since Aug. 26. So I call the John Paul the manager. I tell him that the maid-boy had just left and that I was missing American dollars. He says he will send him back right away.

Ten minutes later there is a knock at the door and I am furious. Partly because I had been feeling bad about constantly being suspicious of him in the house (wondering if this was some sort of prejudice or stereotype) but mostly because I felt like he was taking advantage of me. So he comes to the door and I don't say anything I call him in with my index finger so he will follow me. I march him into the back room and say, "you know how I always keep this door locked? Well, I had money in this pocket of this bag and now it's gone." He just stares at me blankly. I repeat, "there was money here, now it's gone. I want it back." He starts acting like he doesn't quite know what I'm saying. "Money? Where?"
I repeat, "There was American money here and now, no money."
He says, "American money? No. I don't know ma'am."
"Ok, well, we have a problem."
He gets on the phone and tries a number. As it's ringing, he says to me, "how much?"
"Twenty dollars."
Someone picks up and he says something but all I can make out is, "no, no, no." But he moves into the living room while I lock up the bag. He is still on the phone when I come out and after about another 2 minutes, he hangs up. "Ma'am, John is coming over now and will check out the apartment."
"You were the only one in here," I say. "Don't make it worse, just give it back."
He again pretends to look dumbfounded but I can tell he is nervous. And I don't feel bad about it. Then he starts wandering around opening up cabinets like it might have gotten mixed up in some papers and ended up in the wrong spot.
I say, "I did not move it. It was in that bag this morning. Unless you moved it..."
"Paper money? Like this," he opens his wallet and pulls out a 100 rupee bill. As if he was unsure until this point, what it is we are talking about.
"Yes, just like that. Paper money. American dollars."
Then he opens the cabinet on our desk and on the top shelf in the corner, I see the money just as it was folded in my bag. He gives a big isn't-this-great-we-found-it smile.
Not smiling, I say, "I don't want to know why you moved it but I don't want you coming back. I'll speak to John, good-bye."
"You tell John is ok?" He is still acting like it's all just a big misunderstanding.
"Yes, now go."

I haven't called John yet because I don't know what to say. I still don't know if he had taken it and then put it in the cabinet when I was looking or if he really just moved it maybe to test me to see if I would notice before actually taking it? And I can't prove anything other than being able to say I'm 100% sure neither George nor I touched the money. I'm really not sure I want him to send someone else. We don't need someone every day. Vivian said her maid is very good and she would probably be interested in another job. Fortunately, I am the only one with a key to lower lock on the door and the bedrooms so I locked everyone out today.

We're going to Vivian's for dinner tonight and leaving for Delhi first thing in the morning so again, I will wait to deal with all of it until next week. I'm mad at myself for not locking up but disappointed that my suspicions were true.