MAKE WAY FOR THE VACCUM

So I’m a janitor. And for those of you who have spent any time with me (or really have seen my old school bookbag/binder/ purse/room) than you are aware of what a hypocritical job this was for me to take. For those of y’all who’ve not had this pleasure, trust me when I say that I hate with every fiber of my being am not a big fan of cleaning or organizing. It’s one of my fatal flaws. Or whatever that fancy literary term is, I’m too tired to think of it.

Tiredness. That’s another lovely aspect of this job. I have to get up at 6:30 every morning (which isn’t all that early, considering poor Cassidy gets up at around 4:30 to clean), but considering the fact that I (and Lizzy) tend to stay up till 2-3, or sometimes (on really rare occasions) even 4 o’clock in the morning, I’m not at a prime mental capacity at this point in the day.

However, it pays well enough and the duties are not difficult, and on Fridays we get a lovely breakfast.  So, for the sake of money and occasional free food, I am basically a walking zombie until noon everyday.

There are certain duties I actually enjoy doing. Dusting for one, I find incredibly satisfying and fun. I enjoy using the ostentatious pink feather duster and running it along tables or edges of windows or cubicles and seeing the huge difference it makes. (And I have, in my sleep deprived state, deliberately freaked people out who were in the cubicles by the vision of a monstrous pink thing running along the top perimeter of their work space) I’m smiling just thinking about it. I like polishing wood—mostly because I like to pretend to spray paint graffiti onto the wooden doors with the white foam. And because said foam smells like oranges.

But, more than anything, I hate vacuuming. I feel like I end up vacuuming the same scraps of paper and crumbs in the same place each morning, which is beyond maddening. The cord always gets tangled up around something, making you stop and free it from its captors periodically. The machine itself is a bulky, uncooperative beast that occasionally has a mind of its own and veers off, bumping into walls, desks, chairs, and etc. But worse of all, is the noise.  When you dust, take out trash, or polish, it is a quiet affair. When you vacuum, it’s as obnoxious and loud as that scene in Aladdin when he makes his big entrance for the King and Jasmine.

 

 

                In my three weeks of experience,  I’ve found there are two responses to this. The Jasmine approach, where, as your vacuum gets closer and closer to that person, they show no emotion and outright ignore it in hopes that you will leave soon and let them be in peace. This is my favorite. It allows me to maintain my daydream so I can forget the fact that I am vacuuming, and hence protect my sanity.

The other reaction is the awkward, “MAKE WAY FOR THE VACCUM!” In which the person sees me stumbling toward their area, attempts to move their stuff out of the way or move out of the way themselves, and as I pass, tries to talk over the roar, successfully forcing me back into reality in order to fashion some sort of coherent reply and endeavor to manipulate my face (which is unresponsive due to my zombie state) into a smile.

This morning was a prime example of this display of misguided politeness. The vacuum I used was especially grating, as in addition to the general growl, it acquired a squeaking sound each time I moved it. On this particular floor I clean, there is an L shaped group of desks; I believe it is supposed to be a help center. Anyways, it’s odd shape and the three rolly chairs and people working at it presents a little obstacle course that I try to avoid at all costs. Luckily, a matt covers the floor area, so I usually just vacuum at the very opening of the L alongside the edge of it.

As I approached it today, this guy who was manning it immediately leapt up, and frantically began stacking the book bags, which were under the desks, onto the rolly chairs, and then he stood back up against one of the desks, looking at me expectantly. I gritted my teeth and headed in, and was quickly reminded of why I avoided this place. The rolly chairs began to slowly move, forcing me to try to simultaneously maneuver this bulky beast in the small area to dodge and then clean the geometric shapes of open spaces of floor. This task was made only more difficult due to the guy's presence, as I was very aware of his gaze watching my progress. The true awkwardness occurred as he gradually kept moving away from me until he had retreated behind a chair, in the corner of the L.

It was at this point, he spoke over the squeaking and the overall ridiculous loudness, saying “Thank you,” with a charming smile. I actually looked at him, and made the unfortunate discovery that he was quite attractive. I panicked and blushed, noticing our proximity in the corner of the L with only the beast in between, ended up parroting him nonsensically, and, worst of all, shuffled backwards out of the L, instead of turning around and facing forward, using two hands to drag the creature out (because the realization of his cuteness flustered my movements, making them unsteady and sloppy).

Moral(s) Of the Story:

-Sleep deprivation causes all sorts of functioning problems.

-Use creative means to liven up boring situations

-Do not “make way for the vaccum”-just ignore it.

-Cute boys should actually be my fatal flaw

 

                                  -Annalee