Rubbing Elbows - a carpenter poem

Just recalling some of the "joys" of being a hired carpenter when the wealthy were the clients.

                              Rubbing Elbows

              I have been looked at with loathing
                       for no particular reason
                   unless it was my dirty hands,
                muddied knees and sweat stains.
                The upper income saw my wages
              as a trivial but still irritating expense.

                    When the bill was presented
                 they are galled at the effrontery.
                Working for the elevated classes,
                        being in close proximity,
                      should be reward enough.
                  In rubbing elbows with the rich,
                      do my elbows get cleaner?

                 The scrutiny and quibbles begin.
                 “I did not see you Thursday last,
              therefore this fee cannot be correct.”
               And yet, I say, the trellis is repaired
                and the gazebo stands corrected.

                           The work was done
                     whether witnessed or not.
                     And so the money is paid,
                    grudgingly, with an ugliness
                that contrasts with the lovely skin
            partly covered by the cashmere above
                            and the silk below.