I graduated high school and was free of stress for about...three days. At the time I was a nanny for two amazing, brilliant girls--but I also needed a second job to save up for college. I don't remember how long it took--but it couldn't have been for long (but at the time felt like ages) but I got a job at a cleaning business.
I was a hot mess though, before I found that job. It's embarrassing when I look back on it. My parents would tell me to not worry so much about it...but, ha. I would worry whether I wanted to or not.
This job though... I can't remember the name of the company--which I wouldn't say anyways, another reminder is that I will always change names--but it was one of the hardest jobs I have ever done.
Not because of cleaning. Mom taught me how to clean, and how to clean well. I had no issues with the actual cleaning.
It was the people. You learn a lot about people when you clean their house.
I'll break this story into two parts, though. Let's start with the clients.
Most were fine, but others were...horrendous. The most we went to one place was once a week. Most however, were every other week.
And those every other week (and even our once a month clients) often did not clean in between those times. I would be embarrassed if my house ever looked like some of the ones I cleaned. Who knew a bathroom could look like a black hole...one I could turn back to white. *shiver*
We went to deep clean an interior designers house who had so many nick-nacks around it looked tacky...and a bit trashy. I had to dust all of them, naturally. I could have cared less, but the lady was shadowing behind me altering each thing I just dusted. We weren't allowed to touch these tiny squares on the wall because they were $700 each yet they were hideous and looked like they could be from Walmart. I mean, to each their own. But if you're going to stalk me whilst I clean your house, why don't you do it yourself?
There was also a dedicated man cave in the basement and she had to wake her teenage son and his girlfriend so we could come and clean down there. Maybe it's just me, but who knowingly let's their teenage child have sex with their girlfriend in their man-cave basement? Yeah, I had a lot of issues with that place. They were condescending as hell. As if cleaning is a poor man's job. If there's anything I learned--there's no such thing as a poor man's job. A job is a job. If you need money, take what you can get (well...don't go selling drugs, but get a respectable job that isn't shady).
About a month in, my cousin--let's call him Ron--started working with me. Good thing too. Unless we were deep cleaning, we were only in pairs. And... I was either with a woman who was in the beginning stages of dementia or a girl shorter and weaker than me.
Do you get where I'm going with this?
Most people weren't home when we were cleaning, but some were. I didn't like that for multiple reasons...
Yet, when Ron started working with me, I felt loads safer.
And almost the minute he started working there, we were sent to a beautiful home with these instructions: Don't go into the locked room near the entrance, this client will pay with cash, and act dumb if he comes home.
I was dumb enough to not think too deeply into this.
The client did have a locked room near the entrance, and the smell hit us like an airborne torpedo. Ron and I tucked the cash into the client's folder, and I cleaned up his breakfast which had been scrambled with some weed, and I brushed off the crack on his glass coffee table. Ron called me back and we grimaced at the mirror over his bed. We cleaned as fast as we could--but you can only go so fast.
I was back in the kitchen when the guy comes home. My heart started racing and I was ready to scream if he got too close to me. He overall ignored me, and he went right to his freezer. He pulled out a huge zip lock back filled with multiple tiny bags. Guess what they were filled with?
Crack.
Then this guy comes over and gives the head nod, asking. "So do you have it for me?"
They go outside. About twenty minutes later the client returns and smiles at me. I smile back, internally screaming. Ron wasn't done, so I was pretending to scrub the oven more. When Ron finished we high tailed it out of there, the client staring after us while sitting on his couch.
We told our boss, and she said we couldn't report the issue because we entered his private home and what-not.
Again, had I not been so young and dumb I wouldn't have listened. But I was intimidated by my boss...and didn't want that crack dealer coming after me...
More on this lovely job next time.
What I want to end with is this. I don't care where you are. If you don't feel safe at your job, at home, out in public, you feel free to leave and get yourself somewhere safe. You do it for your own sake, and especially so if for other's sake. You don't have any obligation to be anywhere you don't feel safe, no matter who tells you otherwise.
I was dumb enough to not think too deeply into this.
The client did have a locked room near the entrance, and the smell hit us like an airborne torpedo. Ron and I tucked the cash into the client's folder, and I cleaned up his breakfast which had been scrambled with some weed, and I brushed off the crack on his glass coffee table. Ron called me back and we grimaced at the mirror over his bed. We cleaned as fast as we could--but you can only go so fast.
I was back in the kitchen when the guy comes home. My heart started racing and I was ready to scream if he got too close to me. He overall ignored me, and he went right to his freezer. He pulled out a huge zip lock back filled with multiple tiny bags. Guess what they were filled with?
Crack.
Then this guy comes over and gives the head nod, asking. "So do you have it for me?"
They go outside. About twenty minutes later the client returns and smiles at me. I smile back, internally screaming. Ron wasn't done, so I was pretending to scrub the oven more. When Ron finished we high tailed it out of there, the client staring after us while sitting on his couch.
We told our boss, and she said we couldn't report the issue because we entered his private home and what-not.
Again, had I not been so young and dumb I wouldn't have listened. But I was intimidated by my boss...and didn't want that crack dealer coming after me...
More on this lovely job next time.
What I want to end with is this. I don't care where you are. If you don't feel safe at your job, at home, out in public, you feel free to leave and get yourself somewhere safe. You do it for your own sake, and especially so if for other's sake. You don't have any obligation to be anywhere you don't feel safe, no matter who tells you otherwise.
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