Diary of a Billionaire's Housekeeper

By Jennifer Wood

Is the grass really greener on the other side? Does money make life easier? We are all led to believe that success and happiness is measured by the size of your bank balance.
'A Billionaire's Housekeeper' shows a true, often hilarious, account of what it's like working for some of Australia's most elite.

Follow me on a journey of light hearted fun, and how an ordinary mum ends up in a world that is the total opposite of her own.

Extract,
'Unfortunately, there was no idea of personal space, so when she spoke to you it was often in close range and involved an occasional smack or pinch, even a hard bite. In one drunken stupor she proceeded to ride me like a cowboy, screaming, "We gotta get out of this place!"'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9780228843191

Jennifer Wood

After the breakdown of my seventeen-year marriage I became a single mum of three children and the full-time carer of my elderly father. I often dreamed of how much easier my life could be if we only had more money. On Tuesdays I would line up at the local Salvation Army, where I had previously volunteered, to do my grocery shopping. The limit was one bag per person so it was hard to decide what items to choose as I needed to feed us all on a tight budget.After having enough of being on 'struggle street' I took the plunge and started my own cleaning business.Years later and I now have an amazing team of girls working for me.Fortunately, through this experience, I was given the opportunity to view the world in a completely different light. I am so grateful for everything that has happened and look back on earlier days with nothing but pride.I have met some amazing people and made connections that will stay with me forever.

Book preview

Chapter One

Destiny’s Choice

Imagine, if you can, a world where an excessively large utility bill comes in and you simply open your banking app and pay it without a second thought. There’s no blame game of who left the lights on or why the fridge is opened twenty times an hour. No question of ‘How on earth can we survive?’ when simple living costs don’t allow enough spare change for a weekend away, let alone a holiday to some exotic location.

Now imagine, again, a life where you cannot even be bothered walking ten metres to your favourite makeup store, so you simply park on the curb out front, then walk in without a backwards glance. It doesn’t matter, anyway—the parking ticket you find on your window will simply be passed to your accountant and be paid the same day.

I’m not saying everyone in the billionaire club is this obnoxious, but believe me, many are.

I wrote this book because a lot of people still have the notion that money brings pure happiness—I mean who wouldn’t love to be able to spend $4000 on a pair of gumboots?—but as a longtime housekeeper to the wealthy, I have been convinced that this is not always the case.

In the stories within, I give you a glimpse into the lives of some of my wealthy clients, then regale you with how a true billionaire lives. Of course, not every billionaire is like this—I was just unlucky enough to find myself right in the middle of one of the craziest situations I hope to never be in again!

After years of research into how we can best achieve inner peace and enlightenment, the proliferation of books like The Secret and countless gurus telling us happiness comes from within, we still live with the notion that those little paper notes are the answer to all our problems.

I mean, I was there once, too. Like the old saying goes, ‘It would be much more comfortable crying in a Ferrari than a Datsun 180b’. It’s not that all rich people are unhappy, I have met some amazing, caring, beautiful rich people and they seem to be happy. It’s just that we seem to put so much pressure on ourselves to reach these material goals rather than living for the smaller, more meaningful moments.

My aim in life, believe it or not, was not to be the best toilet scrubber in the universe. I completed my schooling; I went to university and started a psychology degree. I had worked since I was 14 for the same company and when they offered me a supervisor role, I saw the dollar signs and quit school two years in. Probably not the best decision, but it’s one that has led me to where I am now and for that I am grateful.

I began my cleaning career when I was 36 years old. After the breakdown of my 17-year marriage, I found myself alone and terrified, looking after my three beautiful children, as well as my elderly father who has lived with me for years. I had worked evening shifts for Woolworths for eight years and I no longer had a husband at home to hold the fort while I worked.

My initial thought was, What the hell do I do?

I have the shortest attention span in the world and although I had completed a few courses at uni, I had no formal qualifications and nothing I could see myself doing for the long haul.

One day, while wallowing in my self-pity, I saw an ad looking for domestic cleaners. Why not? I thought. I love to clean!

To discover their inner Zen, some people paint, some people sculpt, some people draw and others meditate. For me, though, my therapy was cleaning. I could clean for hours on end while solving all my worldly problems. What a perfect job! The hours were great, the money wasn’t too bad, and I could potentially save myself thousands on psychologist fees.

My first day of training was hard. My wonderful mother came to the rescue and offered to take care of the tribe so I could complete the three-day course in the city.

I remember my first day of class and sitting there with a blank look on my face, convinced that I was doing the wrong thing. My two older children, twelve and eight, would have to be so much more independent, and my youngest almost-two-year-old would have to spend two days a week in daycare and one day with Nana.

There is nothing worse than mum guilt. It hits you like a ton of bricks and keeps piling! I would go from a mum who had fresh cookies on the bench waiting for my kids after school, to a mum who says, ‘Let’s just grab a couple of Krispy