Losing a housekeeper can leave a big, dusty hole in your life: Ervolino

As CNBC recently reported, there is a “significant shortage” of housekeepers in Palm Beach and South Florida, where their typical hourly pay has jumped to $50 an hour.

“This trend is especially pronounced in Palm Beach,” according to Yahoo! News, “where housekeepers…can earn $120,000 to $150,000 a year. In addition to their salaries, they often receive comprehensive benefits packages that include 401(k) plans, health care, and overtime compensation.”

In New Jersey, rates for part-time cleaning folk range from $15 to $35 per hour — and up, depending on what you need done.

Which brings us to today’s tale of woe.

Last week, my friend Jay showed up on my doorstep. Bereft.

“It’s over,” he told me, as I ushered him into the living room. “She left me.”

Jay was pale. Gaunt. On the verge of tears.

“That can’t be,” I said. “You’ve only known each other a couple of months, but you and Fran were meant for each other.”

“Fran and I broke up in May,” he said, sniffling. “I’m talking about Alina.”

I was momentarily confused.

Alina?

Then, I remembered: “Your cleaning lady?”

He covered his eyes.

“She wasn’t just a cleaning lady,” he said. “She was family! She came over two or three times a week. Did my laundry. Ran errands. Folded my socks.”

These, of course, are essential tasks for us single gents, who are unable to care for ourselves and couldn’t clean a bath tub if our lives depended on it.

“My last cleaning woman rolled my socks into balls,” he said. “Ruined the elastic. I’d be in the middle of a meeting and I could feel my socks slipping down below my ankles. Alina never did that. She was thorough. Intuitive. A saint.”

Wow!

I went to my liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of bourbon and poured Jay a double.

“You poor guy,” I said, nudging the tumbler his way. “Losing a saint is…heartbreaking. Especially a saint who knows her way around a sock drawer.”

Ervolino: Your iPhone is a curse and blessing when traveling

As you may know, a few cleaning ladies have been in the news lately.

One of the better known ones, Thony De LeRosa, the lead character in the Fox series “The Cleaning Lady,” narrowly escaped the clutches of the Sin Cara cartel in this month’s season finale.

Such drama!

Thony, you see, is a former surgeon working in Las Vegas as the cleaning lady of Adan Canto — a gangster associated with an Armenian crime family — in order to pay for the treatments for her son’s life threatening medical disorder.

And you thought cleaning ladies’ lives were drab and uninteresting!

Also making headlines this month was the unnamed 75-year-old cleaning lady who found — and returned — a Swiss millionaire’s $80,000 Rolex, which she found in the men’s room of a nightclub in Thailand.

Another saint!

For Jay, the breakup came out of nowhere.

“Alina just called and told me she was coming over on Saturday morning with my keys.”

“Your house keys?” I asked.

“Yes! That’s how I knew it was over. She came to the door, handed me the keys and said goodbye. I cried for three hours straight.”

“You poor lug! And that was it? No reason? No explanation?”

“Nothing, she just left. And when I called her a few hours later, she didn’t answer. Naturally, I’ve been going crazy. Was it something I said? Is she retiring? Shifting clients? Is she just sick of me? She seemed so happy the last time she cleaned my house. Of course, she’s very, very old now.”

“How old?” I asked.

“She’s going to be 70 next year,” he said.

“She’s the same age as me,” I pointed out.

“Yeah” he said. “I know.”

Harrumph.

Coincidentally, my former cleaning lady was my age, too. Years ago, I had her visit once a week at my house in New Jersey. Then, when I got my apartment on Long Island, I had her come to the New Jersey house every other week. Then, once a month.

Then, she disappeared.

“I remember that,” Jay said. “You were miserable. And you never hired anyone else?”

“I didn’t know where to look,” I said. “And I know a few other friends who are in the same situation. They tell me all the good ones are taken.”

Since then, I’ve been fighting a losing battle against dust, grime and filth.

“I’m afraid that same thing is going to happen to me,” Jay said. “I don’t know how to vacuum behind furniture and polish floors. Pretty soon, my house will look just like yours.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he said. “There’s a real shortage of cleaning people right now and Alina did everything. She dusted every surface, cleaned behind every sofa, left my kitchen  sparkling. And now, she’s gone and I don’t know why. Was she sick of me?”

“That’s probably it,” I said, pouring him another drink. “Could you give me her number?”

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: Housekeeper jobs are hard to fill: Ervolino