We received a reply from the maid a few minutes after my boyfriend sent that incriminating text. She said she was sorry and terribly ashamed of her poor performance. OK, so at least she wasn’t denying it. Good.
Then things went from zero to 100.
She texted us again saying that the last few months had been super difficult for her, and to top it off, her mother had passed that afternoon so she had had to leave immediately. OK, what?
First of all, she has been “cleaning” exactly the same way for longer than a few months. It’s just now that I we actually decided to say something about it. Don’t bring some bullshit story to the game now. I was literally there with her and all she did was smoke and chill as if she was in the country club. Her mom was definitely not dying.
Of course Olivier believed her because he rather lose an arm than take my side has such a good heart. I didn’t, so I went full Glenn Close on Fatal Attraction on her ass. I found her Facebook profile to see any mentions of her loss. All I saw were pictures of flowers and puppies. Such a boomer thing to do.
I stalked her whole family too. I didn’t find much except for a very depressing gene pool. So i went the extra mile because I’m a fucking psycho an MBA graduate and researched all the obituaries in Québec for the past 6 months. It was not an easy feat considering her family name is the same as one of the biggest funeral houses in the province. But I persevered, and yet, I didn’t find shit.
However, I am resourceful and most importantly, I am That. Bitch. so I was not going to give up. I asked for her address so we could send flowers. That did not fly, unfortunately, but she said she would do more hours next time to make up for it. Again, I did not want quantity, I wanted quality, but I’ll take what I can get.
She sent Olivier another text a couple of days after. Apparently now her grandson was in the ICU. She even had the audacity to send a picture of him with a ventilator, just in case we didn’t believe it. Of course I didn’t. The fucking picture looked like it belonged to Shutterstock and, although I could not prove it, I know deep in my heart that it was a lie.
Long story short, I arrived home one week later, and I saw her key on the table. Wait, did that mean what I thought it did? Seriously, this cunt rather quit than do her job? As if things weren’t bad enough, Olivier immediately told me I should apologize to her and beg her to come back.
Bitch, what?
