SINGAPORE: It started with the clang of a dish. Then came the door slams. Followed by laundry baskets landing with a thud that echoed more than just clothes hitting the floor. In a heartfelt Facebook post shared in the MDW/FDW (Migrant/Foreign Domestic Helper) in Singapore (working conditions forum) group, a concerned employer laid bare the emotional rollercoaster of managing a helper whose mood swings were starting to overshadow the household harmony.
“My helper expresses her frustration by washing dishes loudly, slamming doors, tugging at curtains roughly, or dropping the laundry basket on the floor,” the employer shared. “We’ve had a few items in the house damaged and scratched over the years due to carelessness, and while we haven’t made a fuss, it has added to our concern.”
After five years and three contract renewals, the helper had become part of the family—or so they thought. What started as a dependable working relationship slowly shifted into something resembling moody adolescence. “Instead of gaining support in the household, we sometimes feel like we’ve taken on a teenage daughter… It’s emotionally tiring for us as a family.”
The employer admitted that the helper, once known for being reliable and respectful, now lies down on her bed mid-chore, scrolling through her phone while mopping, waits, undone. “She’s no longer proactive… not taking initiative to find other things to do like tidying a cupboard or preparing a snack.”
But what truly hit home was the children’s feedback. “They feel intimidated asking her for help. They say she either doesn’t respond right away or speaks to them in a cold or dismissive tone. As a mother, that really breaks my heart.”
And despite the growing frustrations, the employer remains soft-hearted and stuck in a moral bind. “We’ve tried to be patient and give space, but we’re starting to feel that perhaps this working relationship has run its course.” The family now plans to send the helper off with a kind bonus and gratitude—but is unsure how to bring it up gently.
Reactions poured in from fellow employers and helpers, each one echoing varying degrees of empathy, firmness, and real-world strategy.
One member wrote, “After some time, she (helper) feels comfortable; she feels she has the power to walk all over you (employer). So remove that power… say: ‘I appreciate your service, but you don’t meet our family standards anymore.’”
Others stressed honesty with kindness: “Just tell her the kids are older now and don’t need her help as much… thank her and move on.”
But perhaps the most hopeful comment came from someone with lived experience: “My boss asked me to sit down… we shared our sides… after that we hugged. I’m starting my 13th year with them now.”
As the post continued to spark a flurry of responses—some blunt, others nuanced, one stood out for its wisdom and experience:
“When my helper’s attitude was intolerable, I sat her down and went through a few points with her. I pointed out her merits and her faults. I told her that if she couldn’t respect me as an employer, I could let her transfer to another employer whom she could respect. And I would pay for her stay at the agency till she finds another employer. However, I told her that I would tarry on my final decision for two months and give each other space to see if we could continue further or not. After this strict but cordial conversation, and within days, her attitude changed 180°. And I’m renewing her contract for the third time. Just sharing my experience.”
That comment alone seemed to strike a balance between kindness and clarity, firmness and fairness—exactly what the helper’s employer appeared to be struggling to find.
Other group members offered a more “straight to the point” and pragmatic options:
- “Just tell her the kids are older now and you think her services are no longer needed.”
- “Ask her directly—does she want to transfer or return home?”
- “Have a heart-to-heart. Maybe she’s unhappy too.”
So is the solution a straight talk or a heartfelt dialogue?
Ultimately, whether this is a case of burnout, personal/family problem back home, mutual miscommunication, or emotional detachment from years of unspoken grievances, one thing is clear: This conversation between employer and helper needs to happen.
In the end, every household is a delicate ecosystem, and sometimes even the most loyal helper can get emotionally burnt out. Maybe it’s not just about performance—but communication fatigue, unmet needs, or unspoken grievances on both sides.
The real question is: Can a conversation reignite respect and reset the tone—or is the final chapter already written in slammed doors and silent stares?
Either way, one thing is clear. As Singapore’s migrant domestic workforce continues to carry the weight of households, the emotional toll runs both ways. And a little empathy—served with a side of boundaries—might just be the recipe for peace and harmony.
