Illegal immigrant

Today Juan (not his real name, as it turns out) returned to finish some repairs at my apartment. Remembering that I wrote that I would be kinder when he came back, I got up early enough to meditate for 30 minutes before the agreed arrival time of 7:30 a.m. Since the contractor and Juan had appeared promptly the week before, I even skipped a shower so that I'd be sure to hear them arrive (I have no doorbell...yet) and be able to let them in.

As 8:15 rolled around, my impatience and stinkiness growing, I called the contractor to find out when I might expect them.

"Oh, it's just Juan who is coming today," he told me. I was relieved.

"OK, but I'd like to take a shower, so could you find out when he'll show up?"

"Don't worry, he won't get there while you're showering," the contractor said. "He's at least a half hour away."

I was not reassured.

The phone rang again after I had finished bathing and dressing. It was the contractor letting me know that Juan probably wouldn't make it until 10 a.m. I started to get annoyed - I could have slept later, showered sooner....my mind could have generated a list a mile long about how things "could have" been.

"Well," I huffed. "I'm not sure I can stick around much longer than that."

"OK," he said. "I'll tell him to hurry."

Part of me was eager to get agitated and pissed and scream at this guy but I remembered kindness so I didn't bite his head off. I also realized that even though contractors have made me feel crazy in the past, I do have a choice about how I am going to react NOW. I didn't have to get angry all over again. I sighed and tried to figure out how to rearrange my plans so that I could get something accomplished while waiting.

The following e-mail shows up, one of a few daily inspirational quotes that I receive:

If someone cheats you, they cannot diminish your experience. They only diminish their experience. You cannot be diminished by someone cheating you unless you get all upset about being cheated and push against them.

I wasn't feeling cheated, per se, but it was a good reminder to not let other people's behavior determine how I feel. Getting upset is, actually, a choice (one that many people make).

At 11 a.m., engrossed in creating my jewelry newsletter, I hear a faint sound down below. I go to my hallway, open the window to peer out and see Juan standing patiently in his New England fall "uniform": blue jeans and a grey zipped hooded sweatshirt.

"Just a minute!" I say, scampering down the steep steps in my sockfeet.

"I owe you a big apology," he says in Spanish while handing me a bag of tostadas. "These are for you."

"Muchas gracias!" I say, trying to let him in. The hallway is so narrow I need to back up the stairs so that Juan, who's somewhere between "husky" and "a few extra pounds" can enter. It is hard to be too upset with a handyman who comes bearing authentic Mexican snacks, even if the guy is nearly half a day behind schedule.

He quickly fixes one of my kitchen lights, reinstalls the window pane in the bathroom and hangs up my coatrack. When he's finished we get to talking about his boss ("Esta un poco loco, no?" he says, almost smiling. I agree that the contractor is a bit crazy, but I'm grimacing). But Juan is not bothered by the man's kookineess. He's grateful to be working at all. His previous patrones, a couple who flew him to Boston from LA to live in their house while fixing it up, left the country without paying him for three months of his labor. They also sold the house, giving him little time to find another place to stay. All he got was $200 and a note that said, essentially, "Sorry! We're outta here".

Juan said he was glad to be in the US, even if illegally, as back home he found his job, as a member of the presidential secret service, demoralizing and degrading. Lacking connections, he had to pay a bribe to be considered for the job, which often entailed keeping an eye on presidential offspring who were drinking, drugging and vomiting. And he was on call nearly all the time, a life without structure or much sleep. Or respect.

"If you don't know the right people in Mexico, " Juan said. "Then you're nothing. People will treat you how they want. I have studied and have a few degrees but it made no difference. It's much better here."

Juan seemed to harbor no bitterness towards the couple who fleeced him. He embodied the message in my inbox, a walking example of how to let go and move on, to be happy regardless. He might be somewhat naive but he seems to be living in the moment, not living with a grudge.

I hope I can remember his example the next time I start to feel cheated. Certainly, I'll think of him for as long as I can make the tostadas - in this case they are round, flat and slightly sweet biscuits - last.