What is my time worth?

I had a very non-bendy moment this morning--but am trying to justify it by the fact that the instigator was not Nica, but rather a compatriot who should know better.

For the past few days I've been working on a month-long contract to investigate possible funding sources for a local non-profit organization. Said non-profit is closely affiliated with the biggest employer in town, a fancy-schmancy hotel/resort/vacation home project. While the beneficiaries of the foundation's good works are locals, the organization itself was started by and still directed by fellow gringos.

Today, for the fourth or fifth time, my main contact at the foundation, the executive director, failed to show up at the appointed hour for a meeting we had scheduled. Five, ten minutes late is one thing. At twenty, I said "I'm outta here."

Yes, I've grown accustomed to tardiness and delays here, by necessity--and have occasionally been guilty of slipping into late mode myself. Nonetheless, I continue to hold my fellow North Americans to a higher standard, even if they've lived here for longer than I and could claim a certain amount of acculturation. And especially in this instance, when I made a bid for the project based on a certain number of hours, and assigning a price tag to each of those hours. I was conservative in my estimate--that is, I deliberately underestimated the time I might spend, because I needed the work and was afraid a higher dollar amount would scare them off. I guess that may have been the wrong tactic, because when I felt the clock ticking, and was sitting in an an office thinking of all the other things I could be doing with that time, I got irritated and resentful.

So what kinds of other things? Well, blogging, for one. Preparing exercises for my ESL student who is back from vacation today. Reading the news. Following up on e-mails related to my condo back in Chicago. Thinking and planning for a small business I'd like to open here. Investigating options for emigration to other locales where we might have more of a stable future. Maintaining contact with friends and family in the U.S. Making lunch. Mopping the first floor of our apartment, which is getting filthy. Doing another load of laundry. Trying to figure out some kind of food that my poor ailing kitty might eat. And oh, plenty more I'm sure.

OK, so I'm not saving the world. But these things are important to me and to us. A running joke with one of my friends here is that I've become, or at least am becoming, a good Nica housewife. Not entirely true, but in a strange way I'm starting to feel a lot of solidarity with all those women who have dedicated their lives to maintaining their households and their homes. Yes, this work counts and even if not paid in currency, it needs to be recognized.

So I'm going to lay down the law with this guy and let him know that it's not acceptable to keep me waiting. Take that, Mr. Big Important Man.