I arrived at one of my regular houses, when I was a housekeeper, cheerful and ready to work. I like old houses. But what waited for me there was not what I expected.
She had no intention of letting me work, nor paying me at all. Nope, she wasted four hours of my time that I could have spent at another house.
She accused me of stealing a beloved diamond brooch. She said she was going to let me look for it, since it might be "my fault;" and if I couldn't find it, obviously I stole it. She said that nobody but her and her daughter had been there, so, obviously, I stole it. After all, I was "her" housekeeper, and that's what housekeepers do.
I asked her what in the world I would do with a diamond brooch, and she said, "Well, obviously you sold it."
Yeah. Uh-huh. Your brooch is so valuable, I sold it, yet I'm still coming back to your house to clean it?!
Feh. I spent some time looking under beds. I looked inside the vacuum cleaner bag. I couldn't find it. I called into my office and told them the situation. They talked to her, and eventually she decided not to call the police.
A couple of days later, apparently the lady called the office, apologetic, saying that her daughter was mad at her. Apparently it had been pinned to the dress she had planned to wear the brooch with for some event all along. She begged me to come and work for her again.
The office said it was up to me. I wasn't going to take the chance again to deal with the old bat, and I told the office they should drop her as a client.
They wouldn't. Bottom line, after all. Bottom line, my ass. Why do you think your insurance rates are so high?