Work...

..well, call it what you want.

This summer has come on in a new way in that about four weeks ago I started my first government paid job, which technically means I'm at least half an existent person in the IRS's eyes--yay.

I get paid to clean the church, which is pretty much awesome. I'm constantly around people that I know and can socialize with even if I am tidying up at the same time. In fact, my co-workers are one of my best friends, Sarah Black, and her mom, who add to the social part quite a bit. =) In addition cleaning the church is not only a job, but a ministry that I have the opportunity to be involved in, in that God's house is able to be clean for each service.

Job description, pretty much is doing everything. Here's a synopsis of some of our jobs...

Windows



... not as thrilling as it looks. Sarah and I had to clean that afterwards.

Window cleaning is not as easy as it looks either. The thing is, people (mostly kids) at church have a nasty strategy of leaving fingerprints on the glass doors or panes in places that even when gone over with the squeegee the mark still live. In the place that it is left, once imprinted on the glass it is impossible to find unless you are in the exact right spot and angle (which usually is at the height and standing place of my boss x.x).

Aside from the problem of finger grease, the squeegees aren't exactly in condition for cleaning the palace of Versailles. Streaks are constantly having to be sprayed (yes, again) with Windex and then if the paper towels don't leave a mark you still must check the top and bottom of doors where cleaner is gathering. All that being said, you now have clean glass.

Sarah and I were streaking windows (excuse the wording) one day and trying desperately to get this one door spotless. She said, "Man I don't think these things could do any worse of a job."

About ten seconds later the squeegee rubber bar fell off the handle.


Bathrooms



I promise it's an illusion. His name is Oscar.



Yeah; it's gross.

It's hard to get out of a habit once in it. I know this sounds pathetic but after cleaning the men's room several days a week for several months, there is created a bigger sense of security than is probably wanted. At this point, I have a flashback to several months ago. I walked into the guy's bathroom because I didn't see the "Men" sign above the door (whoops lol), fixed my hair, and then my (male) orchestra director walked in. The shock sends me out the door screaming in front of the whole orchestra (don't ask me why they were all congregating outside the men's room?).

Regardless to say, I never want those previous events to repeat themselves in light of my new job.

Finally, a theory is in the process of development. My co-workers and I have noticed that in the girl's bathroom the sinks are always dirty and the toilets are fairly clean, but in the guy's bathroom it's just the opposite. Need I say more?


Auditorium/Atrium



Trash after Sunday night. Just Sunday night. Just ONE Sunday night. From just ONE aisle...



Sarah getting under conviction from my wonderful **cough** message



TADA!


Keys

I am not good with keys.

There is a disputed fact that being in possession of keys means one now has a new power-- the power to control; the power to go wherever you want; the power to open and close maintenance closets. The actual dispute comes in when I, Christina Elizabeth Fisher, get ahold of the keys. No power comes, but I can tell you what does happen- a curse ensues.

I am cursed with terrible key skills. If you hand me a ring with more than one on it that I don't know the purpose to...well... actually even if I do know what they go to the end remains fatal.

Before choir practice one Sunday my boss handed me his key chain to go open the maintenance closet for some supplies. From that moment on I saw 10 keys of all shapes and sizes I knew I was doomed. To make a long story short, even when I did find the right key, it didn't go in right and WOULD NOT open the door. After the 4th round of trying them all out it finally slipped in to unlock the door.

Today the ring with two keys was handed to me for cleaning in the girl's bathroom. Well there were only two so I mean how could it be so hard with only three locks to figure out? You'd find out when you heard a jingling while my casket was being lowered into the ground after a premature cardiac arrest. None of the locks were able to be opened by myself.

After cleaning the modulars one day I went with a KEY (singular) to open the back door so I could push the custodial-trash-can-on-wheels into the atrium. After trying and trying and it not going in I sighed and push the trash can in the opposite direction to go the long way around, which is from the very back of the church over brick and then concrete (basically had my own marching band minus the music and march...drums included). I passed my friend on the way there, gave her the key insisting it didn't work. Once (hours later lol) in the atrium, I see Sarah coming from the back. I asked how she got in. She replied that the key worked fine and she had come in the back.

I tried once to open a trash can and the keys fell in the toilet...

I am not good with keys.


Now don't get me wrong by all that I may have said... I still wouldn't ever give my job up for anything. It's a wonderful opportunity, tons of fun, and I love it...



....lots. =D

Piece,

~chris~