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“Looks like the locker rooms need to be cleaned,” she said, handing me a spray bottle. I looked down at the offending object, wondering why she was handing it to me. There were at least five kids walking around in uniforms, none of them over the age of twenty…why was she handingmethe bottle?
“Uh, I think I’ll go over whatever training material you have. Is there a binder, maybe a video I need to watch?” Maybe that would make me feel better about my supposed position.
Sondra shoved the bottle at me again with a genuine smile. “Silly, that’s a part of what we do here. We clean every three hours—the gym, the locker rooms, the pool chairs…and tons of other stuff.”
Wait…what?
“But, I didn’t…” I tried to explain, but then someone had a question, pulling Sondra away. I had to be at my new job for another five hours, and if I didn’t take the freaking bottle, what was I supposed to do with my shift? Also, I didn’t exactly want to lose this job. I mean…the hours were so flexible. The pay rate wasn’t too bad either. I wasn’t salaried, but it also wasn’t minimum wage.
Begrudgingly, I took the bottle and got to work. My khaki shorts were not a flattering style or cut, so every time I bent down, I had to adjust them when I stood. Same with the awkward t-shirt uniform I was wearing, and why on earth was it so hot in the locker rooms? And holy hell, how many towels could a person use? Why was it so difficult for them to drop the towel in the canvas bag labeledTowel Drop, a mere two feet from the place they dropped it?
By the time I was done cleaning both locker rooms, I was gritting my teeth. I trudged back up the small staircase toward the front of the building, where the gift shop was. Fifty-dollar sweatshirts, four-dollar ice cream bars, and five-dollar pool floaties adorned the shop. I let out a silent sigh as I watched a family of five load up on at least seven ice cream bars, five waters, three candy bars, two bags of chips, and three sweatshirts.
My eyes nearly bugged out at the total. The irony was that I couldn’t afford the things these rich people bought, but my eighteen-year-old coworkers likely could…at least according to what they each said to one another. Most of the kids had this job because their grandparents were owners on the other side of the resort. Many of them had gotten brand new cars as graduation gifts too.
“You’re doing great,” Sondra said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
Humility was best served from the mouth of babes…wasn’t that a saying or something?
“Thanks. What’s next?” I dared to ask, knowing there would be more to clean.
“The weight room needs to be done,” Sondra explained, looking over her checklist again.
“Okay, so vacuuming, or…?” I trailed off, unsure of what she meant. Her wince wasn’t encouraging.
“The new health code requires that we clean every piece of equipment.”
Shit.
Grabbing a new pair of gloves, I headed upstairs, not caring that literally no one else was cleaning anything. They were children—babies, really. What was I going to do, get mad?
No, I wouldn’t, because I was an adult. I would do this job and do it well.
