Cleaning rooms and toilets isn’t all that bad...really. I can handle the entire bag of potatoes chips the group of KISS impersonators threw all over the floor, the remains of someone’s KFC that didn’t quite stay down after a long night of drinking, and can even stomach picking up the newspaper that a rugby player decided to use for a toilet (thanks to 9 years of changing diapers).
BUT… working for inept and grouchy managers who hate their jobs and decide to take it out on their cleaners is a major problem for me.
My work life the past few weeks has begun to resemble one of those dreaded math problems I struggled to solve in basic algebra my freshman year of high school. It goes something like this:
Ashley lives in New Zealand and works in exchange for accommodation. Minimum wage in New Zealand is $12.50 an hour. If Ashley works for 3.5 hours a day and accommodation is $22 a night, how many extra unnecessary hours is Ashley being forced to work?
Now I’m not a math genius, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been working almost double the equivalent of the cost of my accommodation. This may shock some of you, but I actually figured that math out on the first day I was here. I stayed because the location was nice, I really enjoyed my co-workers, and the free perks were enough to make it worthwhile. So why, might you be asking, have I been leading rebellions?
It began yesterday when, several staff members short, I led a team in cleaning almost double the amount of beds we had usually had. By noon it was clear the job was not going to get done on time. I stayed on cleaning for another two and a half hours because I sincerely wanted to help Corolla (the head cleaner on duty who is AWESOME) get done on time so she could go home to her kids. Thinking the management would appreciate the fact that I had saved them nearly $100 in having to pay Corolla overtime, I figured that asking for compensation for my crew’s 5-hour workday was not too much to ask. Boy was I mistaken…
In a professional and undemanding tone, I asked our cleaning and general manager if we could negotiate some sort of repayment. Immediately my manager scoffed at my suggestion that we had a high number of checkouts, pulled up the numbers on the computer (suggesting to me that I was a dimwit unable to comprehend the complex nature of checkouts), then offensively told me my claims were “bullshit” and I should have been able to easily finish the 150 checkouts on time.
Being slightly peeved but trying to keep my composer, I told her that I wasn’t a slacker or an idiot and that my crew had honestly been trying to finish as quickly as possible. I then reminded her that young travelers typically would rather spend their days exploring rather than cleaning toilets for 5 hours and, didn’t it make sense that maybe it really would’ve taken that long to finish if the rooms were unusually messy and we were understaffed?
She then had the ridiculous notion to suggest that my hour and a half of overtime was just making up for the days I got off early. So I said to her, “You mean the two days I worked for three hours instead of three and a half? Isn’t that still the equivalent of being paid 37 dollars in minimum wage? How much does it cost to stay here again? I forgot?”
She did not like me having the college-educated brains to outsmart her corrupt slave driving ways. After an angry and agitated retort to my question I smiled nicely, realizing this was a lost cause, said “thank you”, and walked upstairs. Entering into the staff quarters I turned on the light and said, “Boys, wake-up…we need to talk.”
It took me all of 45 seconds to have them enthusiastically agreeing to leave. So now together, the Band of Brothers (for some reason they’ve begun calling me LaBron so I guess that makes me one of the boys) are headed to Queenstown for bigger and better things. This whole cleaning ordeal has been extremely humbling for me. After years of working for wonderful employers I’ve now had the unpleasant experience of being mistreated, overworked, underpaid and having no legal rights to do anything about it (I am an immigrant here after all)! I appreciate more than ever my good fortune of awesome jobs in the past, am proud that I refused to tolerate criminal work conditions, and am impressed that I dealt with the situation so calmly and professionally. Despite the setback I STILL LOVE BEING IN NEW ZEALAND!
Lets just hope that my next job endeavor is a better reflection of New Zealand’s employers and work conditions!
-Ashley
Fun Fact: Some interesting signs/names i've seen around-
"Pills for Thrills" (Store name)
"Anyone becoming intoxicated will be removed from the premises" (sign at a BAR)
"We serve tap water, and its FREE" (also at a bar)
"Cycles and Mowers" (a bicycle shop that doubles as a lawnmower retailer...odd combo)
"Shag Point" (a place name)
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