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I open my eyes, and the crushing feeling of defeat and worthlessness lessens just enough for me to breathe easier. The smile I plaster on my face doesn’t quite reach my eyes, but it’s a start.
With my resolve strengthened, I start my car and drive to my worksite in better spirits.
Please don't be gross. Please don't be gross.
I punch the 4-digit key code into the panel and open the door to the rental unit. The clear view of the entryway into the modern kitchen is a relief. I let out a breath.
Already this job site is better than the three previous ones. For one, I'm not immediately greeted with foul odors, and two, there aren't any visible piles of trash.
It says a lot about the average guest experience that being able to walk into a room and not see a huge mess is a pleasant surprise.
I text my service agency to let them know I arrived. Time to walk around to get a general impression of the rental and the scope of the work ahead. Upon inspection, it should be a normal clean job, for which I'm grateful.
I go back out front and wheel in my supplies.
Cleaning might not be the most glamorous jobs, but it gave me freedom of time management. The flexibility let me finish my degree in business management while also working as a barista full time for extra income.
Plus, my manager has my back and gives me a lot of leeway. As long as I get the job done, she doesn't care that I roll in late from time to time.
My phone buzzes. Speak of the devil. I tap my ear bud. "Hey Nora, what's up?"
"How are things going over there?"
"Not bad actually. I haven't stumbled upon a pile of used condoms yet."
"Well that's a relief. Listen. You've got your go-bag packed and ready, right?" Nora’s voice is brimming with barely contained excitement.
I freeze mid sweep. "Always." I have a habit of being ready to go at a moment's notice. Nora thought it was part of my "always ready" girl scout vibe since I work multiple jobs and may not be able to run home for necessities.
I wish that were the only reason.
“Well, I have the scoop on a property that I know you'll be very interested in. What do you think about managing a cleaning project out in...Avalon Vale!”
I drop the broom. “What? How? Avalon Vale isn't open yet?" I should know. I've had my name on a wait list for a residential visa for nearly a year. I refresh my email app constantly.
"That's the point! It's not open yet—but they want to be open soon. And, word on the street says they're preparing for a huge party for local residents and want everything to be ready.” She pauses. “There’s just one catch, and it’s kind of peculiar.”
Short of killing puppies, I can’t think of anything that would stop me from saying yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
“The property owners state that the house is particular, and needs for the temporary property manager—that’s you—to be on site when the project starts. There’s a cottage available that used to be servant’s quarters, and you would have access to the house’s pantry. You can coordinate service workers to stock the house’s kitchens as needed, as well as provide for your own meals. But again—and I’m quoting here from the job duties—the property manager needs to be on site once the project starts to allow the house to recognize him or her and have a point of reference to defer to for the duration of the project.”
A point of reference? I don’t know what that means exactly, but I know what I’m not hearing: Anything gross or objectionable. In fact, it sounds like a dream come true.
Nora’s voice is hopeful. “So, what do you think, Val? You want to take this on?”
Do I want to take on my dream job? Is she joking? “Dude, in my mind, I’m already there! All I need to know is when I need to show up!”
“Next week. And it will be a three-week job. Normal pay scale, plus per diem and travel reimbursement. Supplies will be provided on-site as well. And you will be supervising a small crew if needed for outdoor tasks—I’m assuming yard work, landscaping, that kind of stuff.”
My heart’s been racing so fast, I’m light headed from giddy excitement. “This is the best news all day.”
“Better than not seeing a pile of used condoms strewn about?”
I throw my head back in a full body cackle. “Infinitely better.”
Nora promises to email me with details, but I barely hear her. By the time I’m off the phone, I dance around the rental, cleaning every little corner of the place until it glistens.
Chapter Two
