These employees of the housing and communal services are accepted either not to notice or scare them to not want to take exams of adolescents. “You won’t study - you will become a janitor” - this phrase, probably, had been pronounced to every second parent in Russia. The reader of Samizdat refuted this statement: receiving a higher education, she simultaneously went to revenge Kirov courtyards - and now tells that they see the wipers in the predawn hours and how the continuous use of the broom can transform even a young man into a hypocrite.
Notes of the janitor
My grandmother always condemned the contemptuous attitude of society towards representatives of working professions. “They say“ hard workers ”with such contempt that these are people of the second. It is clear that no one wants to go to the working specialties, if society is like this! ” She was indignant. At the same time, my grandmother was immediately stipulated that the working specialty was not provided for me - I am worthy of more.
Following her, scolding myself for snobbery, secretly believed that those who did not enter the university and went to work as a seller in a barn did not take place too much in this life. True, she almost went there. When I graduated from school, I thought that I was very smart, because I got a gold medal, so any university in the city of Dreams-St. Petersburg awaits me. Moreover, I wanted to be a journalist, and this is possible only in a big city. But I was waiting for a refusal everywhere and an accidental admission to the journalism faculty on the last day of admission to VyatGU - the main university ("support", as its administration constantly emphasizes) Kirov.
***
I was not settled in the hostel due to the fact that on the last day of reception you can only enter the paid department, so despair from awareness of my own position visited me in a hastily rented apartment with a view of the cemetery, railway and new buildings. I looked at passing trains and graves and sighed. This, however, did not last long: it was necessary to live on something, the parents remained in my hometown, and I also wanted independence. With work, however, everything was sad.
According to statistics , almost half of the unemployed in Russia are people aged 20 to 34 years. Apparently, I managed to get into these same 48.7 %, since there was no way to find suitable vacancies. I tried to get a restaurant for the summer for the summer, but I was embarrassed that I would throw them after the end of the holidays, so I did not even continue the interview, and they didn’t take me to work in a local store with a terrifying schedule, learning that I was a student.
I sorely leafed through Avito after I, with the usual wording, “we will call you back”, refused to be a cleaning lady, when I suddenly saw a vacancy of a janitor. Everything was fine here: both next to the house, and work only a couple of hours in the morning.
***
So I went to get rid of the remnants of pride and get a janitor, romantically seeing myself with Maxim Gorky, preparing essays on folk life. The device for the position of the janitor was, to put it mildly, formal: neither an interview, nor a contract. The future employer made me a meeting immediately in the courtyard, which I had to sweep, and not in the office of the management company. Since then, I had a chance to visit an office in your office only once: it was empty and cold there. Perhaps that is why neither I nor anyone else was invited there.
Having hit with the employer, I went to sleep before the shift. And now - six in the morning, I yawn near "my" house and picking the toe of the sneakers of a cigarette butt. Suddenly a woman appears in a tracksuit. Not so I imagined the future direct boss, but she was extremely cordial: “I don’t like it - call: we calculate for the worked out.” The woman, whose name I never found out, cited the example of her son, who is also a student and has been working as a janitor for a year.
We walked around the house, she showed me the garbage lying around, adding that she actually has already removed for today and I can start tomorrow. Then she recorded personal data from my words and handed the key to the buttons with the flasks. Soon I accidentally lost it and did not even find the strength to call the employer - I told her about everything in the SMS. But she calmly made me a new one and hid me under one of the pipes at the house. Strictly speaking, our first meeting with briefing is the only time I talked with her personally. Even for the first and last salary, I eventually went to the concierge of an elite house related to my territory.
But, returning to the beginning of my existence in the status of a janitor, I can say that, minus the ascents at five in the morning, this work seemed to me a dream work. In any case, at first.
Caming out
My parents were very happy when I did not enter St. Petersburg. With all my might, they tied me to Kirov, even bought an apartment in which we spent this summer together. My family reacted to the news of my new job as violently as if I really made a camming out, and not just found a part-time job for a while:
- A janitor?! What a horror! This is a dirty job, do you understand that?! It is to remove bulls and spit! - Why do you get a higher education? “Do you understand that this is every day?” It’s not rain - go all the same.
But sitting at home idle in the summer was unbearable, I wanted to realize that I myself would have something out of myself, without my parents. At least some standard of living to provide in a state. Let this level be lower than the living room.
Getting up almost darkly was quite poetic. The romance of the night is everywhere - from quotes on social networks (“Night is more honest. At night, completely different thoughts” - all this against the backdrop of a beautiful picture) to the statements of authoritative people: “What a night! I can't. / I can’t sleep. Such a loust. / Even as if the shore / lost youth in the soul. " I had a night at six in the evening, I wanted to sleep all the time. Despite the grave lifts, the whole splendor of the lonely morning opened before my eyes.
Active movements of the hands, squeezing the broom, and dynamic inclinations behind the husk from seeds, helped to cheer up. At some point, I once again extended, looked into the sky-and saw the sun peering out from behind the clouds. Sometimes it seemed that it shines only for me. Although this feeling quickly replaced chronic fatigue, it was these moments that I remember six months later, when I almost stopped trembling from memories and reflexively collect any garbage that I see.
It is interesting to read
Morning exercise
One friend regularly complained to me about boredom and the meaninglessness of being. These feelings constantly pursued her, despite the extremely rich life, so she was always surprised how I did not miss my broom. But I really was not up to it: you run to work every morning, when normal people are still sleeping, open the closet to the touch, grab the bag - and forward, without unnecessary reflection.
Equipment and my support were organized at the highest level: in addition to the closets with nails on the wall for things, at my disposal there were two thin brooms, two pairs of cloth gloves and five bags. In one of them there was even some kind of garbage, and I was sure that someone was moving there.
I improved my vestments and put on the cloth gloves on rubber, brought from the house. If this is not done, the hands were immediately covered with mud. The packages were actually disposable, so they were quickly damped, but I learned to tie them correctly, so they served longer. Surprisingly, on the third day, one bag was stolen from me. And I thought that the closing Camor is an excessive measure.
***
At the beginning of the work, it is necessary to pick up the garbage, then take the porch and borders, remove the husk from the seeds. Without a lying husk and bulls, the courtyard became even comfortable. Then it was necessary to move on to the unloved part: Livnevka. The same cigarette butts and a seed husk were usually packed into the drain, but I also had a playground with which tons of sand poured. I don’t know why the children scooped up the sand and carefully shifted it into the drain, but I did not share their interests in this and scolded it quietly.
But I did not like adults even more, having fun spending time on the same site. Then they came with the children and, in order not to waste time, they immediately drank half a liter and threw the container where they had to. They came later, already without kids. Nevertheless, everything around was thrown by bulls and bottles. Cleaning the site after the storm seemed incredibly light, and the final stage was the lawn in front of the house. I still do not understand why all stubbornly throw out the window. Coirs can still be understood: too lazy to go a few meters to the garbage bucket or an angry father with a belt and a question came into the room: "Are you smoking, a parasite?" But to throw away the preces from the window? .. However, collecting them, I rejoiced that people with such a habit did not multiply.
"Even those who are sitting on a pot ..."
According to the official statistics of WHO, in Russia they drink more than 10 liters per year per person. From the position of the janitor, it seems that this figure should be multiplied by two. How much for a month I scooped up empty bottles of the most unexpected places with a little! A moderate number of bottles on weekdays, space on the weekend - this is the life cycle of the house entrusted to me. It was on Saturday that I discovered a broken ballot box, a bench, lying around a nearby. Once, sweeping my favorite storm and collecting cigarette butts around parked cars, I saw an illustration of how much more fascinating life is under a degree. Morning silence interrupts the noise of the motor. Two arrived in the car - he and she. A young girl with blond hair, leaving the car, constantly reminded the gentleman that “she is not like that” and can turn around and leave at any moment, but she is not able to call a taxi, so let him do it. I lowered my eyes back to the storm, and when I raised it, I saw a genuine manifestation of passion. At some point, I even realized that the work by the janitor partly transformed me, because the stream of thoughts in my head was more reminiscent of those who come into the heads of the old women on benches at the entrance, calling passers-by girls prostitutes. Probably, they simply also have nothing to take their heads.
Soon, lovers gathered into the house. Then I decided to carefully examine the girl and stared at her in all eyes. I was not sure whether it was enviable that she was having fun, not me. Or I am sad that she is having fun so much. However, I did not even have time to finish the platform, as a guy and a girl again appeared in my field of vision, not alone, but with another young man. The young lady was now hanging on him (“Ugrozia!” Thought the old woman-I). At that moment, she and I exchanged proud glances. She was proud that I was in the sand from head to toe, and she was in a clean car. And I, on the contrary, - with my righteous work. With this gaze, each defended their lifestyle. Well, or it seemed to me that she was looking at me. Perhaps I work with a broom longer, I would hate every person who sleeps at six in the morning or does not go to bed at all.
***
The quirks of human relationships opened before me not so rarely. I didn’t even immediately see the next scene, as I was passionate about Dale Carnegie’s audio video “How to become successful,” which she started for the morning duty. I listened carefully to how to make people love and help you in everything, and dreamed of how I would come to the Gazprom office with this knowledge. I sincerely praise his old director, and they will definitely take me in his place, and I will forget about all these cigarette butts as a terrible dream. With these thoughts, I with double zeal obscured the dust on asphalt.
But suddenly a terrible scream was heard, even interrupting the dictator's speech. I looked with horror towards the noise. A girl walked along the street, staggering strongly and spoke on the phone. Rather, screamed. By the past evening, she was clearly preparing, as she was brightly dressed and painted, but the next morning, the cake was smeared around the face under the influence of tears, and her legs were tired of heels. She waddled, sobbing and lamenting in the phone: - Cyril !!! I love you, Cyril !!! Return to me, Cyril !!! Kiri-and-and-I-Il !!! I pulled one headphone out of my ear and skeptically looked at the in love. But it was not particularly interesting to observe further, because it went very slowly, and the text repeated the same many times. However, the screams suddenly stopped.
I was afraid that she was enough for a blow, because when I turned around again, she was lying on the ground. I did not have time to run up, the girl struggled to get up. A little more crying, the person in love with Cyril left. I hope then she got home.
"Talk to me at least with me, the guitar is seven -string ..."
Once I saw a colleague, a girl who swept the leaves, cheerfully singing a song in the headphones. She immediately dancing, holding a broom like Freddie Mercury a microphone rack. I even slightly envied her optimism, recalling my dull sweeping manner, accompanied by yawns. However, music and audiobooks introduced diversity even in my loneliness, forcing a little less to feel the stench of the garbage tank in which I shook my bags. The representatives of the fauna also sometimes entertained a little. For example, once I met a huge dragonfly and examined it for a long time, putting it on my palm. Either the glove on the arm was too dirty and full of microbes, or my eye is bad, but the dragonfly was not very active.
Almost before my dismissal, I had a colleague in the neighboring courtyard. He was an elderly man with glasses and a wand. Despite the same hours of work, I did not see him every day, but when we coincided, the neighbor came to talk to me: - Well, how are you? How does it work? - From these questions, he always began a secular conversation. At the same time, I carefully watched me. A man with bitterness told how his appearance was tracked through the cameras at the entrance, not allowing him to come later, but also about how hard it was to remove the parked cars. The man liked our employer, he called her a neat woman and called her for every reason. I smiled, nodded and tried to understand what he needed. But it was still pleased to me that I was not alone and if the apocalypse still begins, then I have a better chance of surviving.
Usually others tried not to notice me. The janitor is a person who scares the children (“You will not study - you will go a janitor!”), Therefore, some and embarrassed to look at them. Perhaps I was also susceptible to stereotypes until I myself found out that, even receiving a higher education, you can work as a janitor.
***
From the book “How to become Successful” I learned that it is necessary to praise people just like that, without any reason. How important the praise is, I checked on my own experience in one of the shifts.
That day I first went to work at five in the morning. At eight, it was already necessary to come to the other end of the city for university practice. In the morning cold, I came to work with my eyes closed. I determined the garbage with some sixth feeling and I wanted to sleep more than anything else in the world. And suddenly I heard a voice: - You clean well, well done. It became much cleaner how you came to work, - a friendly woman radiantly smiled at me from the window of the house. And I, semi -puffed, sleepy and pale, smiled back at her. It's nice that she drank morning coffee, looking out the window at the cleaned street, and drew attention to me, which did all this. I thought that she never thanked the janitor near her house, although they rarely cleaned me that it was a holiday every time. Just then I realized that Carnegie was definitely right.
I talked about the quality of my work with representatives of the expert community and later. Early in the morning, after a fun night, two girls arrived at the house. At first they lit a cigarette and talked about something, and then lost interest in each other. One of them enthusiastically spoke on the phone and walked away, and the second sank heavily on a bench and began to carefully follow me. And I am diligently shallow the yard.
- Well, good work? - asked the girl.
“Not bad,” I answered evasively.
- And how much do they pay? I did not want to scare her with a huge amount of six thousand, so in the story I added two more to the salary not yet received. - Wow! Not bad! I'll go a janitor too. Just: in the morning you will get out, and then you go to sleep.
Perhaps this is how one janitor has become more in the world thanks to me.
Lyrics
The work of the janitor is not the profession where you can expect an official novel, but once a year and the stick shoots. As usual, the matter took place on the morning of Saturday. I raised my head from the storm and saw him. A man of an uncertain look in the appearance of age in a gray jacket smiled captivingly to me. In his hands he held phlox from a neighboring flowerbed. His mood was clearly good, Friday has not ended for him yet. I looked at him misunderstood. The flowers leaned forward. I still watched incomprehensibly. He held out more and more actively, showing his eyes at them and playing with eyebrows. Everything happened in complete silence. As a result, I took flowers and thanked the donor, receiving an even more mysterious smile in response. As soon as I looked away, he disappeared. Looking around, I did not find anyone. Perhaps it was the patron of the janitors.
***
Work by a janitor taught me to see life from a completely different angle. I was happy about simple things: the opportunity to get up half an hour later on the weekend, the possibility of not revenge on the rain when it rains, a new garbage bag without holes. And most importantly - the opportunity to quit, but forever preserve this experience in memory.
Text Maria Blinova 
Collages Marysia Morrison 