I started the job this morning. Get up at three, clock on at 4. Was only learning how to ride the machines. They’re not ride-ons, but I really “want to ride the machines without being hassled by The Man. We want to be free” and so on and so forth.
And floor-buffing was a larf, for about 1min 30secs. The thing runs on LPG – it has a BBQ-style bottle on board and even has an exhaust pipe. Now I’ve got this ‘ken awful mixed LPG and whatever-the-hell-that-stuff-is-that-makes-the-floor-shiny taste in my mouth. But using the thing was pretty cruisey – it’s self-propelled so I just walk quickly along behind it grabbed onto the handles, steering.
The other machine – the scourer was less cruisey – it’s more like driving a full-sized photocopier with wheels. It’s like a mopping machine that does the main middle part of the isles. Has a lot of knobs n’ levers. I almost fucked it on the first go because I wasn’t told it’s not such a Good Idea to let it idle in the one spot. The rest is normal manual stuff; sweeping, mopping.
Cleaning is such a dodgey industry – so many chemicals. I’m wary of it all after the last cleaning job years ago at the (then) Parkroyal. Somehow from that year i developed this weird chemical sensitvity where i can’t have any metal resting against my skin. Like watch buckles, belt buckles that ride up – produce little welts. Ug.
Ah… I’m a whinger. I decided yesterday that i can no longer join in on the generalisation of ‘those whinging poms’ when I come across one, because I am one too — a whinger that is, not a pom. I’ve also been meaning to add Cybbis’ brainal meltdown. He’s Finnish, unashamedly a whinger and writes in both finnish and english about things like vacuum dustbags.
Anyway – I don’t think even the money-carrot they dangle in front of me is all that neat — but maybe actually having a job which will soon become bothersome will motivate me to go out there, thrust my fear of rejection aside and try and find a more ‘me’ job. Also the responsibilty of operating the machines is a little worrisome right now. I think that maybe I’ll destroy them or smash sideways into an aisle causing them to domino á la whatever movie that happened in, except that in my situation several night-fill people will be squashed too.
You make it sound so bad!! Cleaning isn’t drudgery yakster. Working in an office environment is. I drove a desk for 5 years (in the QLD government) and swear that I’ll be a gardener (which I am now) for a long time. Plants don’t talk back.
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Where ya cleaning at?
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name: yak sox
A supermarket up the road Quanta.
You’re right Tone, dead right. i have this terrible habit of only noting the bad points. I was reading through (yet more) (paper) journals the last couple of days and there’s a lot of things I remember as being fine, which at the time I grumbled about continually.