The Diary of a Cleaner: Day 1

Introduction

Hey there. Long time, eh? It’s been a good minute since I last wrote a blog. The reason being, I lost interest writing in this factual style, favouring instead, to return to short stories. Nevertheless, whenever I finish a short story, I am stuck for what to write next. So, yesterday, after completing another short story, I decided that, whilst stuck in limbo, why not write something for my website instead? Thus, here I am, writing this. Albeit, this isn’t where the blog began. It began earlier this morning, at work, which, incidentally, became the topic of this blog.

This week, I aim to provide an insight into my current life. Maybe, once this week is over, I will have concocted a fresh short story idea which will drag me away from this website once again. Until then though, I shall shed light on what it’s like being a cleaner. This isn’t to say each daily blog will discuss only cleaning. No, I will write about whatever comes to mind. Often, we writers hit blocks which leave us unable to write for extensive periods. Rather than allow myself to hit that block, I will spill my thoughts out here, no matter how shabby the writing. Hopefully, whoever reads this will enjoy. And, without further ado, this is Day 1 in The Diary of a Cleaner.

I

The time is 7:54. Date: Tuesday, 21^st January, 2025.

I am sat in the toilet at work, with six minutes remaining until I officially start my shift. Several times a day I come in here to ruminate and write. It is a cathartic escape from the monotony of my job – my job being a cleaner. I won’t go into specifics about where I work. This isn’t crucial information, and I wouldn’t want anybody who works here finding out about these posts. All I will tell you is, is that I am indifferent to my job. It is about as important to me as that of the skid marks which I scrub from the toilets every day.

Now, the time is 8:08. As usual – because I am not watched in this place – I am able to start late if I want. Yet I guess, reluctantly, I must now begin. So, I shall write another entry later.

II

9:04 now.

I have just emptied all the bins around the site. And this task is something I wish to focus on: it links back to when I mentioned I am not watched in this place. You see, the beauty of being a cleaner is that I somewhat fade into the background. People barely notice me, not even when I arrive at their desks to empty their bins. This is one positive aspect of my job. Due to my social anxiety, I like not being seen. I like not having to engage in frivolous conversation that could just as easily be left alone. Occasionally, I will chat… if I feel like it. Otherwise, I am silent for the duration of the shift. Of course, I am not completely socially stunted; I will say good morning to each person whose path I cross. They will say hello back, and hopefully nothing else. I cannot stress how many times these people ask me how I’m doing, and I would much rather they didn’t. It can be quite annoying to say, ‘I’m doing fine,’ dozens of times a day. To counteract this, I hardly ever return concern for their welfare. Best to cut the conversation short and save us both the unnecessary effort. Anyway, this little titbit has killed another fifteen minutes. Back to business I go.

III

9:47. This entry is much sooner than the last.

I’ve been unable to clean the big canteen due to a meeting being held there. Therefore, I have cleaned only the smaller kitchens, and am now killing time until I face the dreaded toilets.

I dread cleaning the toilets because I never know what state I’ll find them in. Most days, lazy arseholes will have pissed on the toilet seats, or, even worse, left skid marks in the basins, as though they are unaware of how to operate a toilet brush. I even installed new brushes in every cubicle the other day. So, it baffles me how these slobs can’t spend ten seconds using them.

And the smells these heathens leave permeating throughout those lavatories! I thought I had bad bowels… until I came here. Who knows what these bastards eat. Are they not worried about their health? Because of these aromas (and my hypochondria), I now wear a face mask whenever I clean the toilets. Although, sometimes, even that doesn’t help block the stench.

IV

11:25, and the shift is almost over.

I have just finished cleaning and mopping every godforsaken toilet. As usual, skid marks were left in several basins. One of those shit-stained toilets was even found inside the ladies! A lady, you say? Pah! I don’t know if you could call her that. I would name her something more suitable like a pig. Before changing careers, I stupidly believed women were cleanlier than men. But when you become a cleaner, that notion is defiled, and you soon realise, they are just as filthy as us.

Not long to go now, though. Soon, I will step out of here into The Great Beyond. I will forget all about today’s woes: the excrement, the ignorance, the carelessness of my supposed “peers”. Sure, it is a simple life being a cleaner, but, let me tell you, one also faced with strife. We make sure you have a nice environment to work in. You make it hard for us with your messes which you never clean yourselves. And, after a boring day of cleaning up your mess, we are barely thanked for our servitude, yet still, we clean on. I don’t desire to do this forever, but it gets me by for now.

One final thought: I will continue to dream whilst sat inside these toilets. Whilst my thumbs hit keys instinctively on my phone. I will keep writing, for that is my dream. I dream of one day making money from what I love. I will always dream about that. And that dream will, hopefully, never die.