Rich Signora dismisses the maid ah so. To the foot: how the stars treat the servants

Ivan comes to Moishe:
- Listen, Moisha, give the ruble until spring, then I will double return, I can leave the ax as a deposit.
- Good, Ivan, here's a ruble for you. Only now I think that it will be difficult for you to give two rubles in the spring, now give half.
Ivan gives the ruble, goes and thinks:
- There is no ruble, there is no ax, the ruble still owes, and everything is right !!!

- Shameful, oh how shameful! - says Rabinovich to his wife.
- What's the matter?
“Abram is inviting us to his wife’s funeral for the third time, and we have never invited him yet.”

Moishe died of a broken heart while playing cards. It is necessary to inform his wife, but no one dares to do this. The choice fell on Aron. He is being warned: you are somehow more delicate, from afar ... He comes to the deceased's house, knocks on the door:
- I'm from Katzman.
- From such Katzman?
- From the one with whom your husband always plays cards?
“And he loses a lot ?!”
- Lot.
- Schaub he died, bastard!
- Already.

A man arrives for a day in Odessa, to buy goods. Walking past the beach - well, he could not stand swimming, the first time at sea. And he has 10,000 bucks in his pocket. Well, he thinks that the Jews are honest people - he runs up to a decent-looking house, rings the doorbell.
Old Odessa opens the door:
“I'm listening to you ...”
“You understand, I arrived one day, the first time at sea ... May I leave you money for half an hour?”
- What money ???
- 10,000 dollars.
- $ 10,000? !! NEIGHBORS!!! (all the neighbors came running here) - You see how this stranger trusts me. He wants to leave $ 10,000.
Neighbors:
- We see.
- Young man, you can safely go swimming.
After half an hour, a man returns for money.
The Jew opens the door:
“I'm listening to you ...”
“I came to get my money.”
- What money ???
- How what! 10,000 dollars - and your neighbors are witnesses.
- … NEIGHBORS!!! (neighbors came running again) - Have you seen that this man leave me money ???
Neighbors:
- Not! Drive this tramp in the neck !!
A man sat down on the steps and cried, he could not prove anything.
When the neighbors dispersed, a Jew comes out to the peasant and says:
“I don't need your money.” Take it. I just wanted to show you what my scum neighbors are.

Sema walked along the street. Found the money. Counted.
- I knew it, not enough!

Talk in the Odessa tram:
- Tell me, are you coming out next?
- Yes.
“And ahead of you?”
- Yes.
“Have you asked them?”
- Yes!
“And what did they answer you?”

When you click "Shutdown", the Odessa version of the system displays: "Ty! What is it like? ”

A Jew, having reached the house by taxi, gets out of the car silently and begins to fumble in his pockets and says loudly:
“Damn, it seems the wallet has dropped in the car ...”
Hearing this, the taxi driver presses the gas and rolls off.
- But Rabinovich does not lie, it really works ...

In a Jewish restaurant. The client calls the waiter:
- Try this soup.
- What all of a sudden? This is the soup that you always order.
- No, you try.
“Listen, when did I give you a bad soup?”
- And I say: try it!
- What, is he overpowered?
- Try, I say!
- Well, good, good! So I sit down and try. I'll try ... Where's the spoon?
- Well!!! - exclaims the client.

A sign hangs at the entrance to the synagogue: "Entering here with your head uncovered is as much a sin as adultery."
Someone added: “I checked - the difference is enormous!”

- Hello, is it Odessa?
- And what do you think?
- Hello, is this Rabinovich?
- And what?
“Do you know that your uncle died in New York?”
- And all to me?
“Do you know how much debt he owes?”
- Listen, where are you calling?
Italians

Rich Signora dismisses the maid.
- Ah well! Well then, I'll finally tell you the whole truth! Your husband said that I cook better than you.
In response - silence.
- And he said that my figure is more beautiful than yours.
In response, silence again.
“And I'm better than you in bed!”
“Did my husband tell you that too?”
“No, the gardener told me that.”

Pharmacy in Italy on Valentine's Day:
- Hello!
- Over!

- Italians and Jews have one common point in common - the bank.
- Some people own it, others rob it.

From a conversation of two Italians:
“If I'm not mistaken, is your husband's birthday tomorrow?” What gift did you prepare for him?
- I won’t know what to buy for him. He already has everything I need.

“Do you really want to divorce your wife?” After all, you lived with her for almost twenty years!
- So, do you think that I have suffered little?

The Pope died and, of course, went to heaven. He was introduced to a high circle of archangels, arranged a personal audience with the Lord. He asked the Pope:
- What do you want?
- I want to get acquainted with the original Bible, with the very first version.
He was taken to the library, and an hour later there were cries and cries:
“This is unfair! Not fair!"
- What do you consider unfair? - asked the run-in God.
Dad raised his tearful eyes:
- In the original - not a word about celibacy!

At the La Scala Opera House:
- Listen, you just threw rotten eggs at the singer, and now applaud him!
- I want him to go out to bow - I still have a few pieces left ...

- Franco, are you satisfied with your motorcycle?
“Not really.” One of us is constantly under repair.

The Italian teaches the dog to stand on its hind legs, the husband is trying to stop her:
“Darling, you won’t succeed anyway.”
- Stay calm. And at first you did not obey.

Former assistant Lady Gaga Jennifer O`Neill said that on tour she was forced to share her room and sleep in the same bed, because she basically does not sleep alone.

“She could wake me up in the middle of the night so I could change the movie in the video player that she was tired of,” Jennifer complained. Sometimes the assistant was obliged to flush the toilet in the toilet after the star, if the drain worked poorly or the singer could not find the right button on her own.

“She demanded that I be available around the clock,” said Jennifer. “I was not supposed to have any days off, no lunch breaks, no personal time and space.” After 13 months of such a “sweet” life, the assistant quit, and in December 2012 filed a lawsuit against the singer, demanding reimbursement of $ 390,000 for overtime work.

“This rat decided that being a slave to the Queen of the Universe was below her dignity,” said Lady Gaga. “I'm not going to pay her money that she did not deserve.” I need to work out the privilege of wearing dresses from my wardrobe, using my credit cards, traveling the world in private jets and eating champagne with caviar at private parties. ”

However, in October 2013, Lady Gaga agreed to pay the required amount to Jennifer. And a year later, the former assistant signed a contract with the publishing house for a book about her misadventures, which would bring her at least a million dollars.

It’s not easy to work with Madonnas. The maid in the house of the singer is forced to sit on a strict diet and do without a TV. In addition, any of the assistants who fall under the hot hand may go to wash the toilet.

“Madonna is obsessed with cleanliness,” said a former employee. “Before going to the toilet, she sends a man in surgical gloves and a mask there, equipping him with disinfectant fluid.”

In the list of requirements for the personal assistant of the Madonna is the ability to do without sleep. He should bring bottles of mineral water to the singer six times a night. For all the suffering, the fisted star pays half as much as her colleagues.

Singer Mariah Carey is complicated even by the simplest manipulations. The assistants have repeatedly taken off the shoes from her tired legs, after a while put them back on, and then go forward in front of Mariah to catch her if she starts to fall. They are not surprised at requests to strip a star or wash its hair, and also run away for cookies at three in the morning. Sometimes the singer asks to hold a can of soda while she drinks through a straw.

Crazy Moms

Relationships with Mariah Carey and the nannies of the twins Monroe and Moroccan are not easy. Once maternal jealousy even brought the star to court. Former nanny Simonetta da Costa demanded overtime compensation for a 100-hour work week and stated that the reason for her dismissal was ... excessive attachment to children. Allegedly, Mariah told her that “the twins no longer understand who their real mother is.”

But the babysitters working in Beyonce should be able to ... dance and maintain composure in ridiculous situations. The singer requires everyone to learn the choreography from her video for the song Single Ladies and perform a number for the baby Blue Ivy every time the girl needs to be entertained. A sudden dance-erotic sketch performed by a decently dressed woman in the middle of a street or a store is really able to cheer up anyone.

MISTER CHISTYULYA

If someone thought that working with male stars is easier and more enjoyable, then this is a fallacy. In 2012, Harrison Chun, a former press agent for actor Christian Bale, wrote a book about his client’s oddities. Harrison was advised to do this by a psychiatrist who treated the guy for post-traumatic stress. When Christian left to shoot, Chun had to work as a zoo keeper - take care of the five pets of the actor and the crowd of roving possums who settled in the backyard of the mansion.

In gratitude, potentially rabid animals bit Harrison, and also happily crap anywhere. Chun accompanied the actor at the ceremony, but sometimes it turned out to be even more humiliating than servicing possums. If Christian had run out of clean socks, Chun had to rush headlong into the store, and just before going out onto the red carpet, the actor asked ... to smell his armpits and report if it smells of anything other than deodorant.

Let me tell you what everyone knows for a long time: your housekeepers are watching you.

We work alone. We are bored. What did you expect?

For two years I worked for a cleaning company. I had a flexible schedule. They paid me well enough. I did not consider this as a career, I did not identify myself with this work; I just had to do this in order to somehow study at the institute, being a single mother.

At first, I did not go into other people's affairs. When they gave me a notebook with instructions for each house and sent for a shift, I just took my daughter to a kindergarten and got to work.

Winding paths led to the buildings, the keys were hidden under the garden statuettes in the form of gnomes or under the entrance rugs. I parked my car where leaking oil wouldn’t stain their path, brought everything necessary for cleaning and called to mark the start time, standing in front of a large panoramic window overlooking the ocean, looking at the perfectly manicured lawn, table and chairs around it , the road leading down to the pier, and the yacht sparkling even in the pouring rain. I did the cleaning and went to the next house. I had 20 clients and 2-3 houses a day, in which one way or another it was necessary to restore order.

But after a few months, my supervisor asked me to clean up more slowly. (We, of course, called it differently, we said: “clean up more thoroughly.”) She explained that our company has a large staff turnover and our pay was hourly. And if I did the cleaning faster than the girl who replaced me, the customers preferred to pay less in the future.

So I began to delve into the papers instead of raking them. I searched for caches in bedside tables, tried to find what is hidden behind the American dream. I was looking for nest egg with empty bottles from under the wine, looked in the first-aid kit. I counted how many pills they consumed in two weeks, and remembered which of the prescribed medications they refused. I managed to find pills for everything in the world: painkillers, sedatives, antidepressants, drugs for insomnia, impotence, allergies, diabetes and for lowering blood pressure. There were other medicines. My personal favorite: topical cream with testosterone.

(I studied it separately. It should compensate for the lack of sexual desire in women. You can apply it anywhere with the exception ofgenitals.)

I came up with the names of my homes.

One of them was the Porno House, which was given its name because of the piles of the Hustler magazine in the bedside table and the package with grease, periodically standing on the bedside table and illuminated by the red light of the dial. Of course, I needed to change the sheets, but I never had to collect condoms lying on the floor. And something else was constantly cooking in the kitchen; sometimes I came to clean, and there the whole house stank of ham in caramel.

My wife left notes on the refrigerator addressed to the “Cleaner,” which said, “We continue to live together for the cat.” She spent the night in a separate bedroom.

The House of Porn was followed by the House of Sadness. They had a common driveway, each had its own spacious garage and living rooms with ocean views.

I came to each of these houses on Wednesdays, but the House of Sadness took me much less time. Its owner spent most of the time in the hospital, and so the house was clean, except for the dust that settled on the kitchen racks and on the surface of the dining table.

His wife died a few years earlier - it seems, in the late 1980s - but all the trinkets she collected were still decorated with window sills, and to-do lists were still pinned to a cork board above the kitchen table.

"Buy a new garden hose."

"Repair a crack in the road tile."

"New latches for gates."

There were two sinks in the bathroom. A hairdryer plugged into the outlet was still hanging next to her sink. On the edge of his sink there was always a glass with a comb and there were some pills that he had to take in the morning or evening - always different.

Opposite the sink was a wicker shelf. She had a photograph of their eldest son on top of a mountain. He was bearded, a green bandana was tied on his head, and with his fingers he depicted the sign of peace; the photo was framed by a poem that you could see at the memorial invitations: “Do not stand and cry over my grave,
my spirit never rested in her. " These are the first lines. I even wrote them out to hand them to my friend, whose dog had recently died.

Two small boxes stood next to the photograph, one of them was made of thick clay, the other of dark tin. A photograph of his wife was behind a clay box. Once I opened them. They contained the ashes and certificates from the funeral home. I wanted to believe that these boxes comforted him, standing there, on a shelf, while he straightened his hair.

I was frightened by the amounts that my customers were letting down. In one of the houses I found a check for the purchase of a plaid, which cost more than my car. The children's rooms that I used to vacuum were more spacious than my apartment. At Rob’s house — the picky and adoring client I visited on Fridays — television and stereo equipment in the living room alone cost $ 3,000. The TV was always on. The card that Rob and his wife sent me for Christmas included a $ 100 bonus - the largest tip anyone in our company saw. All this wealth surrounded Rob even when his skin began to turn yellow due to medicine bottles accidentally mixed up during a flood in the bathroom.

We practically did not intersect with customers. Once, after cleaning, I met a girl from the House of Porn in the store. She was wearing a long red cloak, worn over a green medical gown. A small lock of brown hair was pulled out of the hairstyle, and she straightened it, choosing meat for the steak. I stood ten steps away from her, holding cough syrup and juice for my daughter, and tried my best not to stare. She had no idea who I was. I knew that she had barely recovered from a prolonged sinusitis and left behind a large lump of snot in her soul.

I met a girl using testosterone cream in a restaurant. Her partner was a tall fit blond. She wore high-heeled shoes and too much makeup. They smiled at each other, but did not hold hands. This week, he left her bag for the night while the children were visiting his father. In it lay a package with a lubricant and vibrating eggs. I stood opposite them near the bar, waiting for a friend and thinking about how sad it should be to lose libido.

After some time, I got used to the loneliness that reigned in these houses. I got used to the Cigarette Lady, whose husband constantly went somewhere out of town. She kept cigarette blocks in a refrigerator in a garage. She preferred thin and long cigarettes; I didn’t remember the brand. Fat-free soups, crackers, and fat-free salad dressings were stored in the kitchen pantry. Only water and salad were in the refrigerator. Under the rim of the toilet bowl in the bathroom upstairs there were always traces of vomiting.