Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother’s Will to Survive

In Maid, personal possessions embody their owners’ interests, habits, and personalities. Because Land has so little contact with many of her house cleaning clients, the objects in their homes—books, photographs, secret stashes of cigarettes—are often as the only reference points she has. Thus, the homes with clients she almost never sees become synonymous with the objects within them (such as The Clown House, The Cigarette Lady’s House, and The Porn House). Houses of clients with whom she develops a personal relationship, however, are identified by their names (such as Henry’s House, Donna’s House, and Wendy’s House).

In Land’s own life, she has little physical or emotional room for belongings. Not only does she have little money for new possessions, but she also often has to turn down family heirlooms handed down from generation to generation. She explains, “I didn’t have room for any of that stuff. […] I couldn’t keep any of those heirlooms or give them the space they deserved to live in. I didn’t have room in my life to cherish them” (189). The few (mostly second hand) objects she does keep are all practical items she can use—such as a bed and a new set of dishes)—and toys for her daughter.

It is therefore telling that Land displays such a strong emotional response when she gets into an accident and her car is totaled. Because her car is a practical day-to-day object that facilitates her survival—taking her from job site to job site—she feels a deep personal connection with it. As she watches her car being broken down for spare parts, she personifies the vehicle, reflecting, “I swore I felt her pain. This tank of a car had kept my girl safe” (202). On some levels, this car provides a more sincere connection than her clients who treat her as an invisible ghost.