onlyemma's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Here today, gone today. What an absolute sham! I hauled myself out of bed at quarter past 5 this morning and made it down to the Co-op to start my cleaning job at 6, to be met by two bewildered woman who had no idea why I was there. One of the women was another cleaner who was a bit of pro, called Leslie, and the other was a supervisor of some sort who didn�t really give a crap either way. Leslie made it quite clear I was treading on some toes though; namely Carol�s, her usual cleaning partner who is apparently making her come-back later today, after 6 months off with a bad arm (�she couldn�t work the buffer�). So me and my mysterious appearance seemed to be the talk of the shop. What was peculiar though, was that everyone talked about it as if I wasn�t there. At one point I was standing there, doing a bit of sweeping, not knocking myself out or anything; and Leslie and a few other Co-op workers were gathered in a little throng talking amongst themselves about how I wasn�t needed, but reiterating their tale by looking over at me and asking me a spattering of questions to which they reacted to with pity: �How long did they tell you you would be working for?� Leslie asks. �I was told a few months� She turns back to the others. �See? She thinks she has a job for a few months!� None of them could quite get over it. �How did you get the job?� �I phoned up after I saw the advert on Friday. I got the job on Monday.� This didn�t make them happy either. �See? Why? Why�ve they sent her? We don�t need her! Why�s she here?� Leslie points a thumb at me and everyone turns to look at me and my sad broom. What an imbecile I was for thinking the contract I signed (albeit in a car park) meant i had a job. Anyway, at 7 o clock, the supervisor phoned the cleaning company up to question my being and said exactly this; �We have this lass �ere... cleanin�... You sent �er but we don�t know why �cause we don�t need �er. Shall I send her �ome?� I thought, you�re bloody not sending me home after an hour�s work! I could�ve cried actually. I wanted to grab the phone off her and tell whoever was on the other end not to send me home because I�m too skint and if I go much longer without a job I might have to turn to prostitution. Luckily, I didn�t get sent home and was told that after my cleaner chum went home at 8 I could piss about with the bleach until 9 so I�d done my full shift. So I cleaned the loos, mopped some floors and went out to the car park and swept up some pebbles. I left with a face like a smacked bum at 5 past 9, having lasted all of 3 hours as a cleaner. I marched home the long way, to release a bit of anger and frustration before getting onto the job centre again; and I was that cross I didn�t even care that it was daylight and people could see me wearing joggers. And speaking of jogging bottoms, I had to buy them (and a top) especially for cleaning. So I�m actually more skint now I�ve done that sodding job, through buying new practical yet hideous attire, than I was before I started. Bloody hell. I was woken up by the earth tremor at 1 this morning as well, which didn�t help much with my mood because I couldn�t sleep after. It reminded me of the Great Quake of 2002 when my mum tried to convince us it was the wind. This time my first thought was that I was possessed because my bed was shaking and I�d said a prayer before bed, but then I thought it was a lorry driving into the garden and was waiting (surprisingly calmly) for it to plough through my wall. Its strange how many thought processes I actually went through in the space of that 10 second shudder. I sent text messages to a few select friends (mainly regional ones) to ask if they�d felt it as it was quite a novelty, and to waste a bit more money of course. They all said they had, except Vicki who thought it was her neighbours being rowdy. I especially enjoyed the text message I got from Jay though, and his explanation of the situation. He said it was a sign from God; his exact words being, �It�s God telling you not to wear tracksuits�. Ah yes, of course. Maybe if I�d worn jeans today it would all have been alright. I always knew jogging bottoms brought nothing but trouble and it looks like I was right all along. 9:01 p.m. - 2008-02-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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