Remembrance of Things Past

Yet another day in lockdown Britain. In fact, nearing the end of the second week in lockdown Britain. Last night at 8pm I opened my bedroom window, and leaned out to show my appreciation of everyone working to get us all through this. John was doing the washing up, so he opened the kitchen window and used the cheese grater as an impromptu cowbell. I clapped for the NHS staff and shop assistants and delivery drivers and bin men and cleaners; all those at the sharp end of this pandemic. It was good to hear all the whoops, the banging pans and the cheers echoing around the neighbourhood.

I have some experience of a couple of those jobs at the sharp end. As I mentioned in my last post, I have a little experience of working in the NHS. We all underrate the importance of the NHS and its workforce until we need them. It doesn't take too much imagination to see where we would be right now if we didn't have the NHS. Do you know anyone who lives in the USA? I do. Luckily for that family, they have the resources to pay for good health insurance. I have a suggestion: anytime you catch yourself complaining about the NHS, get on the internet and find out how it would go for you if you lived in the biggest and richest economy on the planet.

The other frontline key job I have direct experience of is cleaning. About twenty years ago, I was in a bad place financially. In order to survive, I did multiple part time jobs. They kept my head above water. Just. For about seven or eight years cleaning jobs brought in a large part of my subsistence income. I've cleaned the homes of friends, offices, schools, pubs, a nursing home and a large retail outlet.

The worst cleaning job I ever had was for a large electrical goods retailer that shall remain nameless. It was given a run for its money by the nursing home, but that's another story. The cleaning was subcontracted out to a franchise, that shall also remain nameless, because I can't remember the name. To be honest, the franchise was not a great employer, but the real problem with this particular job stemmed from the way the retailer structured its management. Every shop manager lived in a different area to the actual shop they ran. That shouldn't have been too much of a problem, I hear you say. Well, in an ideal circumstance, a decent manager who took responsibility, you'd be correct. However, with a bad manager who had no concept of how long it took to get from A to B, that spelt trouble. The manager of the shop in Bradford lived in Sheffield. In the three weeks that I worked at her shop, she was never on time to open up and let us cleaners in to do our job. Sometimes we waited outside the shop for half and hour before she showed up. You have to bear in mind that this was in December. It gets really cold at that time of the year. I have never been shy of coming forward, and made it clear that I was going to work my shift starting from 6:30am, not whenever she graced us with her presence. Two hours for two cleaners, by the way, was nowhere near enough time to do the job. To add to our troubles, she was a micro managing white glover. And I'm not speaking metaphorically. She literally put on white gloves to go around the display area looking for dust to berate us with. It didn't bother me. I shrugged and told her if she turned up on time, we'd be able to do a better job. It was obvious that I wasn't going to last long. Less than a week before  Christmas, I'd had enough, and quit on the spot. The other cleaner was horrified, telling me that I couldn't leave just before Christmas. "Watch me," I said.

I quit that job, went to the JobCentre and walked straight into another cleaning job. This time at a pub. It wasn't a great job, but it beat the hell out of the one I'd just left.

So when I show my appreciation on a Thursday at 8pm, I have to admit I'm mainly thinking about the cleaners.