Today, I blah, blah blah blah, blah blabitty blab blah blah. FML
We've all seen the sites. FML, MLIA, etc. We've all thought to ourselves, "Well, I can top that!"
You may be right about some of those posts, but I can tell you right now, my daily life is one giant shitstorm. Literally. From the time I wake up every day and ready myself for work, all I deal with is crap. Drama from family about their jobs and how much they hate their bosses or their duties at work. Complaints from friends and co-workers of how little they get paid, or how much they just don't want to be at work that particular day. Not that I'm complaining about their complaining. Just trying to share with you all how my day usually starts. Before I've even clocked in for work.
I hold the fabulous title of Custodian for the local university. State job, government wages and pretty good health care. The hours suck, but we can't really expect banker's hours. The job is actually pretty deep. We aren't "just janitors". We have to keep this god awful, ugly-ass campus sparkling. Easy enough, right?
Wrong!
One would think that because we are dealing with professors, professionals, and adult students that our job would be relatively easy. You know, since adults tend to keep up after themselves. That could not possibly be more incorrect. College students are simply high school kids who have no supervision for the first time in their miserable lives. The college party scenes you see in movies? Yeah, they're really close to what really happens on this campus. Lucky for me, I don't have to deal with the dorms. Not that that really makes it any easier.
So with all the crap I have had to deal with before even getting to work, I'm usually happy to actually start working, just to tune out the complaints. Until I walk through the doors of the building I clean and see the wonderful "gifts" these supposed adults have left for me to take care of.
Just last week, for instance, the very first thing I see is a perfectly preserved print on the glass door entrance of my building. Not a finger print. Not even a hand print. Those I would expect to find on a glass door. Only because the metal bar on which one pushes to open said door must be too hard to find. Or something. No. This was a perfect ass print. On the outside of the door. At eye level, complete with what I can only assume to be a sack print just below. A couple thoughts came to me as I saw this. First I was perturbed at having more to do in my already busy schedule. Then I wondered how this ass-ball print got five feet in the air. The fact that I was not shocked should speak volumes.
"Okay", you think. "Some body grease on the door. That's all you've got?" Not even close, bud. Later the same night I came across some more "art", in the form of strawberry daiquiri swirled in rather creative stipes and loops on the marble floor. No big deal. Or at least it wouldn't have been a big deal had it not been consumed first.
Typical Wednesday night in the life of a university custodian. Strawberry regurgitate and some butt art. The rest of the week pretty much went down hill.
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