Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Practitioner of the Janitorial Arts....How Pathetic?

Some of you may recall that I got laid off from my job with A&M's admissions office in the middle of last March. I knew that the job was running out and had started looking for jobs at the end of February. After a prolonged flirtation with a stuck-up country club in the area, April started with me being jobless.

Fortunately, Steph's understanding boss at the hotel agreed to hire me on as the new facilities guy at the hotel. In layman's terms, facilities stands for practitioner of the janitorial arts. Yah, you guessed it - I am a janitor.

What you might not know is that I hail from a long line of janitors. Well, not exactly a long line. Mostly just my little brother. See, he has worked as a janitor at our church during the summer and over Christmas for a couple of years. When he found out about my new job, he asked me the same thing that our oldest brother asked him his first day:

"Do you have to pick up poop off of the floor?"

Well, short answer no. But I do have a true story to tell you that sums up my first night.

My first full night, I was easing into my new job. I don't care who you are. It takes a certain amount of mental preparation to get set to mop the men's bathroom and to take out the trash in the ladies room, etc.

Well, as my first night wound down, I was using the dry mop to sweep the tile in the lobby by the front desk. Minding my own business and not paying attention to the sudden influx of junior high students who were at the hotel for their Science Olympiad.

Precisely the moment I forgot about the fact that my first job after getting my master's degree is as a janitor, it happened.

I had stopped sweeping to allow two girls pass by me. Both girls were what you would expect for 13 year old participants in a Science Olympiad. Not exactly the coolest 7th graders to come through the hotel if you know what I mean.

In the midst of my smug appraisal of the, young ladies, I heard something that will forever change my life.

As they walked past me, one of the girls looked over her shoulder to steal a glance at me and said under her breath but loud enough for me to hear,

"How pathetic...."

I stopped in my tracks as soon as I heard this. After getting over the initial shock, my first instinct was to chase them down and brag about my master's degree and my hopes for a bright future...blah, blah, blah.

So, I guess that girl got the last word. I mean how do you come back from that? What should I have said, you have acne and won't have a boyfriend until college? Or brag about my awesome GPA and hot wife who works at the front desk....

So I guess, that middle school girl told me...

I'm afraid it is going to be a long summer.