Washing My Toilet

I was invited to go to Indonesia for a month. At first I was hesitant, despite it being an all-expenses paid trip. I didn’t really want to be apart from my new bed and I didn’t want to be away from my cats!

“What does it take for you to come here? The principal requested you to come.”

Now, this is going to sound like I’m a super spoilt person, but….maybe I am.

“Pillows. Comfort,” I replied.

The person on the other end of the call understood. The last time I was in Indonesia I was sick because I didn’t sleep well.

A few days later I got a phone call convincing me that the room was “bagus”. All was good, he said. I said sure, let’s do it. I’m all for experience and stuff anyway, right?

Except that when I arrived at the airport, I was told, “Fifi, if the room is not within your expectation, please don’t say anything.”

When I heard that I wanted to cry. Oh dear, was I ….FISHED?!?!?!?

I felt lied to and I was ready to leave. Sleeping arrangement is important to me. I want to perform my best so I need to be able to rest well!! I arrived, looked at the place, kept mum, went to Carrefour to buy groceries (toilet cleaning stuff), and upon reaching my room I began scrubbing the bathroom. Maybe to you it’s of an okay quality, but I won’t use a bathroom that isn’t spotless. Did I come here to wash toilets? I wondered. Something inside me told me, “That’s what you’re meant to do anyway.”

Fine.

And I couldn’t sleep that first night. The bedsheets were the kind that had been washed gazillion times it’s no longer soft and causes your skin to itch. I think I only had two hours of sleep the first night. I called the person who invited me and he brought his own bedsheets, his wife brought me a long wall mirror and I got more socket chargers. Oh, and I got two extra pillows (one I brought my own, two provided, two brought). They tried to make it accommodating as possible for me and I appreciated it.

So that’s all my complaints about the place. After scrubbing the toilet spotless and changing my bedsheets, I was all right. I also learnt that the only caretaker of the big building was an old woman, so I felt sorry for crying about something as trivial as a dirty toilet. It’s something I could wash myself no problem.

The full length mirror was the best thing I got, by the way.

When I met the principal the next day he himself brought up to change my bedsheets every three days and to make sure my meals are all met and all that.

You see, the problem is never with other people. It’s always with me. I came expecting some 3-star hotel quality room only to disappoint myself when it’s not. The only one disappointed was me, not them. If it costs my happiness and well-being, it’s too expensive. All I needed to do to “regain” this sense of peace was wash my own toilet and ask for new bedsheet. It’s not rocket science.

Before I got home I made sure I scrubbed the toilet spotless again and swept the floor; cleaned the room to my best ability. Someone told me, “Why would you do that? You’re leaving anyway.” I told her I thought her thinking was disgusting. What does the world owe me that I expect other people to clean up after my mess? Who am I to believe I’m superior? Why should other people clean for me? Even if there are maids and they’re paid for it, it’s not as if they’re paid a lot! The least I could do is lighten their loads!

It’s not like they had ten maids for the whole house. They only had one. I can clean my own toilet according to how clean I want it to be.

So before you start complaining, think/ask about why the situation is that way. Don’t immediately make a big fuss out of everything.

Good luck Fifi.

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