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It took the whole month for me to make up my mind whether to write this or not. And I must say that it wasn't an easy task because I wasn't sure whether I would do the right thing. After all I am a man and not a woman and that was the main reason which delayed my decision.
The other reason which restrained me from writing what I am writing was that the magazine which I would like to share my point of view with was a feminine magazine. It was for women, run by women (with a few exceptions), articles were written by women, advice and advertisements were for women and the pages that I had skimmed through were full of pictures of beautiful women.
What am I looking in that feminine company for? I asked myself. What do I have in common with these beautiful faces, hair, eyes, nails, dresses, bodies...? Well... I was engaged in something that, fairly or unfairly, is attributed to women. I WAS A HOUSEKEEPER!
Coming to America wasn't an easy step to make, but I've made it. As a film editor, working for TV in my country, I was hoping that it would be nice to do in America what I was the most experienced in. What a naive thought!
A few days of my presence in this country had given me enough reasons to take off the pink glasses from my nose. The picture in front of my eyes was as clear as a mountainous brook and unscrupulously showed me its nails. It showed me that I would have to prove to myself to be a real strong man in order to find a proper place in that picture.
The streets which were supposed to be paved with gold didn't shine as if they were made from that precious ore. The grass was green all right, but except for dry leaves I wasn't able to rake away the other green that I was interested in and which would help me to make the next day MY DAY. The glamour that America had been trying to sell me for some time in terms of opportunities which I would have had if I only had gone there didn't seem to be real.
But it wasn't in my character to wring my hands or wait until something would come to me as a godsend. Somewhere, somehow, I had to find something that would pave the way to the brighter future without undertaking any extremely risky steps to go to Klondike. After all that source of glamour probably was dried out by now.
As I said it wasn't easy to start a new life in a new country and among many reasons that made it even more difficult was the most important and at the same time the most frustrating one: the language barrier. But because the game was worth the candle and I was willing to see the glamour of America even in that candle's dim light, I took serious steps in order to master the language. Soon I was able to express clearly my thoughts and needs. And what I needed the most was a JOB.
After a few months of searching for anything that would have let me make ends meet, I was given a chance to do what I was and I wasn't experienced in. Although I was a film editor I wasn't a doctor, engineer, scientist, Nobel Prize winner or even a priest, whom America needed and although it was a pipe dream to find a job of my dreams I couldn't do the other things either. But thanks to my parents who had spared no pain in preparing me for life I would have given myself high marks in that matter. There were no secrets for me in terms of how to clean, cook, press, wash, shop, drive... how to run the house. But what kept me awake at night was how much of my life experience would be useful in a new environment.
There is a saying in my country: "I am a working woman - there is no work I am afraid of!" Well, if women are not afraid of any work, I thought, why shouldn't it be me who would roll up my sleeves and cotton on to a brush, vacuum cleaner, dustpan and other accessories of a cleaning woman? And that's how, without any other perspectives in order to make ends meet I became a housekeeper. And THAT'S what, although being a man, I have in common with women.
Performing my chores I was very grateful to my parents who had showed me how to fight with everyday dust, dirt, stuck food to the dishes, refractory stains on various kinds of fabrics... I was grateful to them for showing me the way how to follow the cooking recipes, how to set the table, how to serve meal... But most of all I was grateful to them for making me understand what that work was all about.
Although I knew the difference between the Buckingham Palace and the house that I was helping to run and although I tried hard to fulfill the demands of the people who lived in that house, the mission was impossible. My duties, assigned to me weren't different from those I knew pretty much about, but the expectations of the people who I happened to work for surpassed my power.
Clenching my teeth and showing them in a devilish smile, I had been doing my best, but bared feet of "madam" in the middle of the night stumbled against invisible dust on the floor and her forefinger armed with a snow-white glove tried to find, between the wall and the shelf inside the closet, something that wasn't there. There was no single day that, if I were a woman, I would hide myself in the darkest place of the house and cry. But the real men don't cry! So instead I lost myself deep in thoughts, trying to find a proper meaning of the word "glamour".
Did I come to America looking for that kind of beauty? Was it only in the paper, magazine or in the movie? Where is it? Until now I am not able to answer my questions, but as a jack of all trades or if you will "a woman who is not afraid of any work" I understand what's going through minds of these who did, do and will do that kind of work. And I understand now why they pick up colorful magazines and thumb through the pages of them.
At least for a while these magazines let them escape from the commonplaceness and get lost in glamourous dreams.
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