Domesticas
Growing up, the richest people I knew were Philip and Vivian Banks, of Bel-Air, California. Why? Geoffery.
Do you know who has a butler? Only the richest people.
Between The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Robin Leach’s Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, I had a pretty good idea of what was happening at the top echelons of society, and a critical part of this was domestic staff.
In suburban Portland, as a kid, the idea that “normal people” outsourced labor in or around the home, was a foreign idea. The only alternative to DIY, in my estimation, was hiring a high school kid to do it. Obviously, no one I knew had butlers, or nannies, or any other form of domestic help.
It was only when I arrived at college that I understood that many people, who were not judges living in Beverly Hills, grew up with domestic labor in their daily lives. And many consider them extensions of family, based on intimacy and duration of support, rather than hired help. Like a Geoffery, minus the suit.
In Costa Rica, having live-in domestic help is common. It isn’t clear to us at what income echelon a maid becomes nearly ubiquitous, though it is clear that at the price point of homes we toured ($400K+), having a dedicated service is de riguer. Which means, if you are upper middle class and higher, you more than likely have live-in domestic labor. While at a school event, a Tica mom asked Gesina “Do you know about the magic people yet?” She was talking about the domesticas. Women who bustle around in the background, cleaning, cooking, making sure your children stay alive.
Domesticas, generally, are regular household support for cleaning, cooking, and childcare, often live-in. The standard set-up in Costa Rica is a 5 day, 40-ish hour work week, with arrangements for PTO, maternity leave, and unemployment benefits. The range of actual activities seems to vary greatly, based on our limited experience in the homes of others, stretching from general cleaning and meal prep, to live-in nanny, to being something akin to the Banks’ butler service. It is, as you might expect, an entirely female profession, though home management (handy-man, dedicated yard work, etc) is also a thing (at a certain financial echelon).
As we toured homes in our real estate journey, the quality of the space dedicated for the domestica was both an indication of home quality as well as the moral quality of the current owners (in our estimation). Some were near closet-size, with a toilet that doubled as a bathroom for the gardener and a single bed, while others were comfortable guest suites. We (or at least Matt) did not realize it is not always a live-in situation (most domesticas have lives, homes, and families elsewhere), and the closet-sized service quarters were quite disconcerting.
Typically the apartment for the domestica is right off the kitchen and connected to the laundry, sometimes with a separate exit to the outside or the garage. Many times, while viewing homes, the domestica was around, wiping something down or folding laundry, and it became part of our house-buying conversation.
Whether we planned to have a domestica was a serious consideration for our realtor, but outside of resale value, it never became a serious consideration for us. The concept is foreign, and even though it seems lovely on the surface, in practice I can’t see it being anything other than uncomfortable. Sure, who wouldn’t want someone always at the ready to clean up your messes, cook your food, stock your pantry, pick your kids up from school? But where is the line, and how do you interact with these people who are always in your home?
If someone is always in your lives, are they family, or are they still hired help? (Yes.) It would be rude to ignore someone in your space, but it would also be exhausting to constantly interact with someone in your home. (Yes.) And at a point, wouldn’t you feel guilty about having someone else clean up your messes?! (I would.)
After starting with the domestica-lite service, with twice weekly visits from women who charged $2/hour and provided mediocre cleaning (I still massively over-tipped from guilt), we’ve split the difference. I tell myself that I wouldn’t want to forget how to make a bed or wash the floors, but I still really appreciate having someone clean the windows, deep clean the bathrooms and, let’s be honest, competently wash the floors. So we have a woman come in twice a month to deep clean. She charges more than the US minimum wage, which makes me feel good, and she knows what she’s doing. She also gets down to business, doesn’t make chit chat, and is out before it’s awkward. Good clean middle ground.