Maid in Manhattan

Okay, Brooklyn, but whatever.

So I hired a cleaning service to get the sublet spick and span before Anita comes back on Sunday, and this maid has turned out to be a major pain in my ass.

She's now in her (pay-by-the) fifth hour of cleaning, and has done 1 room. When I went down to open the door for her, she eyed the five flights askance and announced that she wouldn't be able to carry her suitcase of supplies upstairs. So I did it. And yes, it weighed like 20 pounds. Good thing, though, as I still made it five minutes ahead of her, and she was wheezing and winded by the time she made it.

"Are you going to the store?" she asked me after about an hour.

"Why, do you need me to get you something?" I asked, thinking she needed some cleaning supplies or something.

"Yeah, a slice of cheese pizza and a soda," she said.

"Um, okay," I said, with a sinking feeling.

"And when you get the pizza, make sure to put on plenty of hot pepper. And cheese. And oregano. And garlic.

"So, all the toppings," I summarized. "Okay. And what kind of soda?"

She specified Pepsi. And lunched, one assumes on the clock. Certainly on my dime.

"Do you smoke cigarettes?" she demanded after another hour.

"Why, do you want one?" I asked. "I have Camel Lights."

"I only smoke Menthols," she said. "Here's three dollars. Get me a lucy of Newports. It's my birthday."

I forebore mentioning that it's hard to come by "lucys" of anything outside of Europe or neighborhoods full of black people, and dutifully fetched the cigarettes. And a cupcake, since it's her birthday.

Now she's eating and smoking. And we're listening to KissFM.

Do I still have to tip her? Is $40 enough?