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That’s One Super Supervisor

, , , , , , | Working | August 9, 2021

I’m a cleaner in a school and our morning shift is 5:00 to 7:45. It’s not too bad, as I live two houses away. [Cleaner #1] and I usually help out in other areas when we’re done. Normally, only one other area needs it and only in the afternoon. [Cleaner #1], on top of her own work, has to do the supervisor’s small bit as he’s really lazy.

[Cleaner #1] and I are taking out our many rubbish bags when the supervisor joins us. He’s got not even HALF of a bag of rubbish. It turns out he’s done a single toilet set. On the way back in, he’s b****ing about the area manager.

Supervisor: “Oh, yeah, I’m supposed to send you off to help out in other areas if it’s 7:40 am. But that’s ridiculous; you guys do too much already, so I’m not going to do that.”

We get inside. The majority of the coworkers are sat there together, and the only ones missing are those in the area that generates more mess. We are supposed to wait until everyone arrives, but the supervisor immediately tells us to leave. [Cleaner #1] and I usually wait, but [Cleaner #1] has to leave today. The supervisor complains that the others are taking too long but doesn’t head down to see if they’re okay. Instead, he heads down to his area. I decide to see if the others need help, and then they round the corner.

Me: “Sorry, guys. Normally, you’re all right in the mornings, so I didn’t think to head straight over there after taking the bins out.”

Cleaner #2: “You’re fine. You usually help.”

Cleaner #3: “At least you waited. Where is everyone?”

Me: “They left — places they needed to be. [Supervisor] has gone down that way.”

Cleaner #4: “Reckon he’s gone to make sure [Cleaner #1] has also done his workload?”

Cleaner #2: “Probably.”

We see he’s heading back.

Cleaner #3: “Hey, I thought people were supposed to wait and see if other areas need help when they’re finished?”

Supervisor: “Oh, I know. I told them that they needed to go help or at least wait, but they all had places to be, apparently! Not sure where [My Name] had to be; she only lives a minute away!”

Cleaner #4: “She’s here. Literally next to me.”

He clocks me and gets an “oh, crud” expression on his face.

Supervisor: “Oh. Oh, I mean [Cleaner #1]! She lives nearby, too, and you two are usually together!”

I give my fake retail-learnt smile. [Supervisor] leaves even though he’s supposed to wait until the rest of us are gone.

Cleaner #2: “So, what actually happened?”

Me: “Oh, he’s supposed to tell us to help other areas if it’s 7:40, but that’s ridiculous because we work too hard so he’s not gonna. And he told them to leave. [Cleaner #1] was gonna stay, but her grandson is being dropped off at 8:00 so she had to get back.”

Cleaner #3: “Why didn’t he just say he told them to leave? He could have just pretended he hadn’t realised we needed help rather than try to throw them under the bus”

Cleaner #4: “Because he didn’t know [My Name] was still here. Just saw a group of female cleaners and didn’t think much more other than, ‘Hey, I can paint myself in a good light!'”

Cleaner #2: “He’s a d**k!”

Cleaner #3: “Not to be crass, but d**ks have a purpose and a use. He doesn’t.”

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Revenge Of The Queen Of The Dust Bunnies

, , , , | Working | July 15, 2021

I was working a job where we had to live on-site in dorms made from sticking trailers together. Being one of the rare female tradies, I shared the sole women’s trailer with a lot of the housekeeping staff, and they seemed a bit hostile, as if they owned the site and we tradies were unwelcome intruders. I like to keep to myself, anyway, so I hoped to avoid any friction with them.

One somewhat unusual thing I do to have a bit of privacy while working on a huge bustling mine site, eating in a huge bustling cafeteria, etc., is putting up the “Do Not Disturb” sign and doing my own cleaning, to have one little six-foot-by-ten-foot area that is mine and mine alone.

After I had been there a couple of weeks, one night, I was up for a midnight visit to the washroom when the cleaner for our trailer broke away from the party they always had going to appear in the washroom doorway as I tried to exit.

First, she rambled aggressively.

Cleaner: “Were you the one running up and down the hall, pounding on the doors and walls?!”

Surely I was visibly half asleep and she should have understood I hadn’t been doing a thing, but to avoid friction, I offered her the respect she felt she deserved and politely answered her questions.

Me: “No, that wasn’t me. I haven’t even heard anyone running or pounding, just the usual party noise.”

Then, she decided to find a new topic to hassle me with.

Cleaner: “Why do you keep that ‘Do Not Disturb’ tag up?”

Me: “I like my privacy. But if there’s any worry about me not doing a good enough cleaning job, I’m willing to let someone have a peek now and then, so you can rest assured I haven’t trashed my room.”

Apparently, she didn’t want supervised access, though; she wanted to be in there alone. 

She gave a big sob story about how diligent and dedicated she was and how she could barely cope with the nagging worry that dust bunnies were accumulating under my bed. It being the middle of the night, I was desperate to go back to bed, and she was blocking the bathroom exit, so finally I agreed to allow her in, just to get her off my case.

True to my word, the next day, I left the “Do Not Disturb” tag off. When I came home, I looked under the bed, since she had made such a stink about her obsession with cleaning there. And what did I see? The same old smudges from my casual weekly wipe-down with a damp paper towel, and the same old dust bunnies around the edges, where I had been careless. The bed was even made worse than I do it so that the sheet dangled down the back side of the bed into the dreaded dust bunnies. Hm.  

So, if she didn’t actually have a dust bunny fixation, what was her motive? Maybe she wanted to steal something. Maybe it was just a power thing. A month later, she spray-painted a slur on the truck of another tradie who asked her and her gang to keep it down. So, perhaps she just hated guests defying her imaginary authority. 

Every time I see a dust bunny, I think of that creepy woman with her inexplicable NEED to get inside my room. 

What did you want in there, Dust Bunny Lady?

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Cleaning You Out In The Worst Way

, , , , , | Legal | CREDIT: black_linings | July 2, 2021

I work at a store franchise as a cashier, among other small jobs around the store. I open the store relatively often or at least work early in the morning. We hire a cleaning company to clean the store with their industrial equipment, and they are also employed by a few other large franchises to clean. To avoid doing it in front of customers, they come in the middle of the night, and they have their own key and alarm code to enter.

One day, a coworker and I are talking about how all the jewelry in our display sold — about $3,000 worth — and we are wondering who bought that much jewelry.

Turns out, our store cleaners were caught on camera stealing the jewelry in the middle of the night! At least $3,000 worth! On top of that, we realized they have been stealing for years! So now, there are years’ worth of camera footage to look through to calculate how much they actually ended up stealing, as my company is suing them.

I’m assuming if it adds up to more than $5,000 worth of product, they will also be going to jail for theft over $5,000. Also, of course, our company has informed their other employers, so it is more than likely that they have lost all their contracts. And who knows if they were stealing from them, as well?

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Needs A Clean Break From That Day

, , , , , | Working | February 25, 2021

I’m for hire via a temp agency for day jobs which are mostly cleaning jobs. I’m sent to a holiday park one town over for the day, along with several others, and I am told I will be given a ride by someone from the temp agency, since it’s a bit too long of a road for me to bike there.

The workers gather at the agency office to be picked up and my ride turns out to be one of the workers. The woman herself is… a character, to say the least. The few teeth she still has in her mouth are disgustingly yellow, her hair is a mess, and the thick and greasy layers of makeup that she smeared on her face still can’t conceal all the bruises she has underneath. She leads me to her tiny old car, which is so filled with trash that I literally have no place to sit. She shoves some off the passenger seat, leaving my feet in a pool of plastic bottles, used tissues, cigarette butts, and I don’t wanna know what else. 

We get on the road. It’s scorching hot outside, about thirty degrees Celsius, and she leaves all the windows closed while she’s smoking cigarettes behind the wheel and swaying like a drunk.

She manages to drive right past the holiday park that is situated on the outskirts and drives all the way into town about fifteen minutes away.

Her reasoning? “They said it was at [Town] so that’s where I’m going!”

We pass a local theme park that has advertisements up for a Halloween event and she happily states that she should apply as a scare actor. “I look a fright anyway by myself!” No s***!

We end up arriving at the holiday park half an hour late. We don’t know where we are supposed to report in, so she calls the agency to ask. Halfway through the phone call, she hands her phone over to me and lights another cigarette. I’m trying to keep the makeup-smeared phone as far away from my face as possible. The conversation I try to make with the temp agency is constantly interrupted by loud and gross coughs from the woman and her yanking her phone back to her so she can listen in, continuously coughing loudly near my face.

Finally, we get sent to our duties to clean the bungalows. I end up with another lady who explains what needs to be done with the greatest haste and impatience.

She leaves me alone to clean the bungalow. At this point, it should be noted I have slight autism and anxiety issues. I’m left behind with little to no instructions, and the hellish ride to get here has made my emotions pile up and the result is a giant panic attack.

I go back to the front office to call in sick and fetch a bus back home.

Just another day in the life of working temp jobs, leaving me to wonder how on earth people can be so gross.

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Looking For “The Thing” And Maybe It’s Blue?

, , , , | Right | November 7, 2020

I work for a junk removal company that specializes in move-outs, hoarding, and decluttering.

We arrive at the house of a customer who is moving and needs her basement and attic cleared out. She gives us the tour and then we set to filling our box truck and trailer.

During the cleanout, we confirm that she wants photos and miscellaneous items removed. We fill the box truck and that truck’s driver takes those items to donation places like Goodwill, teen groups, Salvation Army, etc.

He returns and we fill the box truck again to the point of us forcing the door closed. We also fill the trailer.

Customer: “Did you take it?”

Me: “Take what?”

Customer: “The thing out of the closet.”

Me: “What thing out of the closet?”

Customer: “I don’t know what, but it was in the closet and now it’s gone.”

Me: “Ma’am, you’re going to have to be more clear. We don’t know exactly what you’re looking for unless you tell us.”

Customer: “We need to look for it. It has to be in your truck.”

Me: “Ma’am, we can’t unload the truck here in your yard. You’re going to have to come with us to the warehouse. We will have you look through the stuff as we bring it out.”

At the warehouse, the customer looks through every can, box, bag, etc., until we have unloaded both trucks. She grabs multiple items but none are “the thing.” It has now been nine hours since the job began and it should have ended an hour ago.

Me: “Ma’am, are you positive we took the item?”

Customer: “Yes, I don’t know what it was but I know you took it. Can we check the stuff you took to donation?”

Our poor owner ended up taking them to the places we donated the stuff and spent the next couple of hours searching for “the thing.”

For those wondering, “the thing” was never found and we still don’t know what “the thing” was. She also never tipped us for the nine hours of labor to clear out her basement and attic on a very hot day with lots of stairs.

The boss did let me take a box fan home, though, so that was nice.

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