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I'm a 'cleaning operative' again.
Jun. 4th, 2008 11:25 pmThe usual story with office cleaning goes like this. You'll turn up, sign in, stand listlessly in the cleaning cupboard trying to summon the will to do anything while 'chatting' with the 'girls', pick up your black sacks and go grudgingly about your mission, hoovering around the chairs of people with half your experience/qualifications and (probably) intelligence, who look down on you whilst chatting to their mates on their headsets instead of trying to sell double glazing. You'll wipe the tea-stains off of the desks of bitchy office queen bees who'll ask you if you "wouldn't mind ever so much emptying my bin more often, as I have a yoghurt every day and if it isn't emptied every day it can start to smell a bit funny?"
Then you'll have 'operative training'. It's incredibly monotonous. Red cloths for toilets, blue cloths for kitchens/general purpose, green cloths for sinks and showers. Don't wear open-toed shoes. Always put out wet floor signs if you intend to create a wet floor. You'll have to sign a form saying you've been taught how to fold up a cable, how not to plunge your hands into bins, how to bend your legs instead of your back when lifting, how to check for machine wear and tear, why you shouldn't mix chemicals, where the staff register and COSHH data sheets are... I know it all, inside out, because I used to audit this sort of thing. Health and safety, risk assessment, quality assurance.
So yeah, cleaning is shit. Especially when you've come from the management end of it. I even designed/typed the bleedin' application form I had to fill in today.
That said, tonight was actually quite fun. Kay got me started and she knows me so there was none o' that horrible introductory crap. She did say something about doing training tomorrow, and I was hoping she'd just let me sign it all and pretend she'd trained me, but then I remembered that I used to audit her so she'll probably be painfully thorough with it, just to get her own back on me. Haha. So yeah, I get to do my own floor, the 'customers' are leaving as I arrive so I get to work alone which means MINIMAL SMALL TALK* and mp3 player listenage for me, woohoo. I get to help myself to free apples and FREE VIMTO, there's no having to 'liase' with the 'cleaning team'... it's relative bliss, old chaps. The only person I spoke to other than the cleaning team was the security guard, who was not at all annoyingly small-talky. Coincidentally, Tam does that security guard shift sometimes, so on the nights she's there it could be quite lolarious. And it's £75 a week, which will be great - it'll cover my rent and leave me with a £20 monthly MAC fund. Also, my muscles absolutely cane, so it's obviously a good work out and I'll therefore definitely lose some weight doing it. I'll see if I still feel this enthusiastic about it in a coupla weeks, eh.
*Fucking small talk. I curse it because it's predictable, unimaginative and lame. A lady was working late in the office today while I was hoovering and she hadn't spoken to me at all. Then when she left she gave me a smile and a, "Good evening!" Then she came back in. I guessed that she'd forgotten something, and I mumbled under my breath, "I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on!" while she said exactly that in a sing-song voice.
Then you'll have 'operative training'. It's incredibly monotonous. Red cloths for toilets, blue cloths for kitchens/general purpose, green cloths for sinks and showers. Don't wear open-toed shoes. Always put out wet floor signs if you intend to create a wet floor. You'll have to sign a form saying you've been taught how to fold up a cable, how not to plunge your hands into bins, how to bend your legs instead of your back when lifting, how to check for machine wear and tear, why you shouldn't mix chemicals, where the staff register and COSHH data sheets are... I know it all, inside out, because I used to audit this sort of thing. Health and safety, risk assessment, quality assurance.
So yeah, cleaning is shit. Especially when you've come from the management end of it. I even designed/typed the bleedin' application form I had to fill in today.
That said, tonight was actually quite fun. Kay got me started and she knows me so there was none o' that horrible introductory crap. She did say something about doing training tomorrow, and I was hoping she'd just let me sign it all and pretend she'd trained me, but then I remembered that I used to audit her so she'll probably be painfully thorough with it, just to get her own back on me. Haha. So yeah, I get to do my own floor, the 'customers' are leaving as I arrive so I get to work alone which means MINIMAL SMALL TALK* and mp3 player listenage for me, woohoo. I get to help myself to free apples and FREE VIMTO, there's no having to 'liase' with the 'cleaning team'... it's relative bliss, old chaps. The only person I spoke to other than the cleaning team was the security guard, who was not at all annoyingly small-talky. Coincidentally, Tam does that security guard shift sometimes, so on the nights she's there it could be quite lolarious. And it's £75 a week, which will be great - it'll cover my rent and leave me with a £20 monthly MAC fund. Also, my muscles absolutely cane, so it's obviously a good work out and I'll therefore definitely lose some weight doing it. I'll see if I still feel this enthusiastic about it in a coupla weeks, eh.
*Fucking small talk. I curse it because it's predictable, unimaginative and lame. A lady was working late in the office today while I was hoovering and she hadn't spoken to me at all. Then when she left she gave me a smile and a, "Good evening!" Then she came back in. I guessed that she'd forgotten something, and I mumbled under my breath, "I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on!" while she said exactly that in a sing-song voice.
