For years, our central office has had a hard time finding and keeping new custodians. We’re always shorthanded and seldom get reliable people. I don’t know why it is, but very few want to do this sort of work. So, it was no surprise when the supervisors started pulling a few of us from the high school, (where there are usually four permanent night custodians) to sub at the district’s smaller elementary schools. This was done out of sheer desperation to cover elementaries whose only night custodian may have called in sick or had some other emergency, and the district had nobody else to send. The schools must be cleaned daily, no matter what.
The call usually comes early Monday morning when I’m still in bed.
“Good morning, Raymond… this is Barbara at the operations office… please hold for Darrell.”
I wait and wait and wait… music played softly in the background, and I’m on hold first thing in the morning. Finally, the big boss comes on.
“Hi Ray… it’s Darrell… need ya to fill in at (insert school name here). Be there at two thirty… can you do that for me Ray?”
It’s depressing – a long-term employee getting shoved around like an idiot, but like most of us, I have bills to pay, and I agree to the one-sided terms.
At two-twenty that afternoon, I arrived at the school a little nervous because one, I had never worked at this school before, and two, it’s known by a few of the district janitors as ‘The Crucible,’ because of its notorious workload, and the invariable next-day complaints. However, I had found in the past that no matter which school you’re at, if ya work hard and try to be polite, everything will usually be okay.
For the night custodian at an elementary school, it’s always the same rhythm. Clean the kitchen first, school lets out at three-thirty and work can commence on other areas like the twelve restrooms, twenty-four classrooms and a dozen other miscellaneous areas. Occasionally, there may be night activities needing to be catered to, as well as lock-up… Just basic stuff.
Still, I was a bit apprehensive about meeting this new staff’s expectations and making a good impression. Each school has its own personality, and some are fun and easy going, while others are cranky and tightly wound… just like people. I didn’t know where on the spectrum this one was gonna fall.
Nevertheless, I started my shift by finding the custodial closet and gathering my equipment. Time is always short for this school’s night guy, as the day custodian weighs them down with almost all areas, everywhere in the facility. Classrooms, halls, cafeteria and endless restrooms… restrooms everywhere and around every corner… big ones and small ones alike. And they all better be shining… It’s all on you, friend.
At around five-thirty, I walked outside to the staff parking lot to lock the cable gate, after I noticed the last teacher had finally gone home. This gate is simply a cable with swinging reflectors positioned on it so it can be seen by inattentive drivers. Just as I was locating the end of the cable, a carload of teenagers came roaring into the lot, in what appeared to be mom and dad’s giant, boxy four-door sedan, one of the big old bruisers, similar to the police cars that graced our highways in decades past. The kids made one terror-filled circuit of the parking lot and passed me for another. They screamed past making their second round, and I held the cable high in the air, “I’m locking up!”
Mom or dad have no idea the tribulations their car has been through. They just know the rear tires are getting bald, and the transmission doesn’t shift right.
The car made yet another round, kids screaming and hanging out the window.
“Hey Mister Janitor… what’s the speed limit here? HA HA HA!”
During the seventh tire-smoking pass, I locked the gate, while they were heading into their downwind leg. I thought -- fuck it. I then hustled back into the building. Mom or dad can pick up the car in the morning.
With all the doors locked, I’m in good shape. Screw those guys… they can pound on the door if they want, which I somehow never seem to hear.
By this time, it was nearing six o'clock, almost halfway through my shift and I still had most of the school to clean. There was a crushing number of rooms, and in addition, I hadn’t had my lunch yet, so I needed to get moving.
I began plowing through the assigned area, sprucing it up as best I could, and cutting corners. In the restrooms, I simply kicked the seats up on the commodes, kicked the flusher, and dumped the garbage… that’s it. In the classrooms, I didn’t bother to vacuum, I only picked up a few of the big papers scattered all over the carpeting and dumped the hundreds of overflowing garbage and recycling bins. But whether it was garbage or recycling, it all went into the same barrel, and out into the friggin’ dumpster, which I also had a horrible time locating. It was a shameful performance, but I needed to make up time. The shift was tightly packed, with ridiculous nooks and crannies here and there, little back rooms needing to be picked up and so-on. A person better be humpin’ at all times, or you just ain’t gonna finish. It’s no wonder the night custodian calls in sick all the time.
After a couple hours of this, I took a quick look out the library window, which was adjacent to the staff parking lot and the kids. I carefully peeked between the venetian blind, and the window frame, so not to be seen by the teenagers. I could see the beige sedan sitting halfway over the big wooden railroad ties lining the entry. The kids had apparently tried to jump these barriers in an effort to escape, and now the car was high-centered, almost like a teeter-totter. The vehicle was really stuck, and all four boys stood around looking at it, obviously wondering what to do next.
The driver got back in and started the car. I could see the reverse lights come on, and the rear wheels began spinning, first backwards, then forwards, then backwards again. The tires screeched, pouring out copious amounts of blue smoke, yet it was still high-centered. The driver then got out and slammed the door.
“Goddamn janitor…I’ll kill that son of a bitch!”
I backed away from the window. I still had tons of work to do, so I couldn’t just leave… but I had seriously considered it… just pack-up and sneak out the back, I thought. My truck was by the boiler room door, and there was a paved back alley-entry that led to an adjacent side street behind the school. This also had a cable gate on it with a paddle-lock… same as the front.
I tried to calm down for a minute, and worked up a plan to go out this way if the kids and car were not gone by the end of my shift at eleven P.M. “That’s what I’ll do,” I mumbled.
I continued with my cleaning horror show, worried, and half-assed everything to make up the precious time I’d lost screwing around with this situation.
At a little after nine P.M., it was dark, and I went back to the library window to check on things, hoping they’d be gone. With the lights off, I carefully peeked between the window blinds. There was now a big truck with huge tires sitting on the lawn, in front of the stuck car, and a middle-aged man hooking up what looked like a chain under the car’s front bumper. This chain was also attached to his truck. He then disappeared momentarily, and I could suddenly hear a thunderous banging coming from the school’s front main entry doors, followed by a series of muffled curses and shouting. I stayed quiet and didn’t move. A minute later, the dad reappeared and started his truck. He began tugging on the car, a little at first, but then began pulling harder and harder, until I heard his truck laboring. He yanked on it, the chain becoming taught, tires howling, and digging humungous troughs in the school’s lawn. The car slid forward about an inch, and he would back off and yank again, engine roaring with bits of lawn and soil spraying everywhere. But he made little to no progress. The car was really embedded on that railroad tie.
It also occurred to me how the school district is gonna be upset about what they’ve done to the lawn… the district is typically finicky about the grass.
I couldn’t watch any more. I just wanted the night over with. I went back to work and tried to wrap things up, making everything look marginal... I like marginal… I’m usually happy with that.
One more thing I almost forgot, which I should have done earlier, around five-ish… I needed to go out front and bring the flag in. The flagpole is in the front of the school, near the staff parking lot entry where all the action is. I would have to wait till the last minute, or just leave it out if they’re still there at eleven.
By ten minutes to eleven, I finished all the assigned areas, put my equipment away, and checked doors to make sure they’re all locked one final time.
Before arming the burglar alarm and leaving, I looked out the library window once more. By then, there was a large red tow truck hooking up his complicated apparatus to the stuck car. In all, the kids were there almost six hours screwing around with this. Maybe they learned a valuable lesson…but probably not.
A few minutes later, I set the alarm and slunk out the boiler room door. It was dark around the back where I was parked, and I quietly glided out of the rear alley with my headlights off, making my way along the side street behind the school. I found Highway 99, which is the major thoroughfare in this part of town and turned south towards home.
I traveled about a mile, and it occurred to me I had never brought the flag in, nor did I have my lunch. I had left my brown paper lunch sack, which contained my cheese sandwich, in the faculty room fridge… I was so freaked out by the shift, I forgot all about it.
Three more miles down the road sat the dreadful bar I had frequented many years earlier, and I thought hard about it… however a little farther was the brightly lit all-night diner, and I needed a break, so I pulled in and parked. The diner was where I stopped if I had a crummy night.
I sat alone in my usual booth by the big front windows and ordered the chicken fried steak. I nursed my coffee and watched the midnight traffic pass by. There were only a handful of customers in the restaurant this late in the evening. A middle-aged couple sat several booths away, looking down on their luck, and others appeared to be late-night travelers who’d stopped in for a bite. Al, the old grizzled-looking cook, sweated away in the kitchen, occasionally eyeballing the customers. After a while I finished my supper, paid the check and headed home.
The following morning, my phone rang, as if on cue.
“Good morning, Raymond, this is Barbara at the operations office… please hold for Darrell.”
I waited and waited and waited… music played softly in the background, and I waited more. Then the phone finally came to life.
“Hi Ray… It’s Darrell.” Long pause… “So, tell me what happened -- I wanna hear YOUR side of the story.”
“What story,” I retorted.
“Come on Ray… don’t gimme that. Why did you do such a horrible job last night… I’ve been getting angry emails from the principal, and all the teachers at the school! The Principal said: ‘Never -
never send that guy ever again…he’s the worst janitor ever!’ These were their exact words, Raymond. They said their front lawn is torn-up too… I got the grounds crew there as we speak trying to fix things.”
“Oh, that story… Well, Darrell, I’ve been a little sick… I guess. Just had a hard time getting everything done. As far as the lawn, I think some kids were out there… or something...”
“Well, nevertheless, we can’t send you back there. You’ve put me in a bind, Ray. I need you to pick up your work a bit… can you do that for me Ray?”
“Sure thing, Darrell, I’ll be back to my normal self today.”
I hung up the phone and went back to sleep. They didn’t send me to sub at any elementary schools after that, and I was happy to just stay at my regular janitor gig at the high school, where I knew all the ins and outs, and how to get things done without any trouble.
12/11/2024
11:01:19 AM