“Need advice on a few things regarding Indian helper,” began the anonymous post. The writer, a Singapore-based employer who just moved into a new condo, didn’t expect her biggest moving-in expense to be groceries. “She has no restrictions on food and has everything we have at home,” the employer clarified, noting that the helper’s contract allowed three meals a day.
Sounds fair — until three meals became four, then five, and now, apparently, a culinary free-for-all.
“She takes evening tea and snacks (that makes four meals). Slowly, she started having a fifth meal between breakfast and lunch. I didn’t get into trivial matters, so I didn’t say anything,” the employer confessed.
But now, her kitchen feels less like a home and more like an all-you-can-eat buffet. “Her diet has increased so much that I have overstretched my monthly food budget by 1.5 times,” the employer added — a gut punch to any Singaporean wallet.
From multiple servings of vegetables (“still okay”), to mysteriously vanishing Indian delicacies sent by the employer’s mum, to the ultimate line-crossing: “She takes my toddler’s soup on the pretext of tasting, without asking my permission.”
The employer was, in her words, “not ok” with that. Baby bites were officially the final straw. But the food saga wasn’t the only thing simmering.
The post took a twist into thriller territory: “Suddenly tonight at 11.30 pm, she asks me, can I go meet my friend who is working in the same condo?”
The employer found the timing and the existence of this alleged friend suspicious. After all, “She just came two months back and said she knows no one here, and now suddenly she has a friend?”
Though it was the helper’s rest time, the employer wasn’t keen on granting late-night condo privileges. “I don’t want to encourage her going out at this hour and make a habit out of it.”
Naturally, the group members were quick to weigh in with a buffet of opinions: “Your house, your rules,” said one firmly.
Another suggested cameras: “Maybe you can put CCTV outside your door to make sure she doesn’t go out without your permission.”
One helper chimed in with surprising candour: “My boss talks to me at first — don’t ask for anything if I don’t give. I never touch their food if it’s not in my fridge space.”
There were sharper knives, too. “She is showing a superior attitude… it is a form of bullying to you as an employer,” claimed another. “Replace her.”
Yet others dished out empathy instead. “Eating habits of some Indian nationalities are very different… Maybe it’s her eating style from home.”
Another commenter reminded the employer, “You earn twice or thrice than her. Don’t think like a poor mentality. She gives blessings to you.”
Blessings or not, the employer found herself caught between courtesy and confrontation.
What’s fascinating is how this single post — part food diary, part HR dilemma, reveals the complex, often unspoken dynamics of domestic work in Singapore. From unspoken boundaries to fridge politics and midnight condo escapades, the line between generosity and exploitation, or fairness and pettiness, is razor thin — and often cultural.
The employer ended her post with a diplomatic sigh: “She is a nice helper… I don’t know how to politely bring this across to her.”
And maybe that’s the real meal worth chewing on. Amid the snacking, soup-tasting, and surprise condo friendships, perhaps what’s missing is just a conversation — honest, respectful, and clear. No need to serve cold leftovers or simmer in resentment. Just dish it out straight.
Because in every household, communication is the most important item on the menu.
And perhaps, a little guidance can go a long way. If you’re wondering how to talk to your helper without turning your kitchen into a drama set, here’s something that might help: Maid guide for Singapore employers: How to talk and support your helper without drama and losing your mind (or hers)
