living off blogs

i have an archnemesis and she is my office building's cleaning lady. now, she's not an archnemesis in the sense that she's mean or diabolically evil but where she's a constant and consistent proverbial wrench in my metaphorical gears. there's nothing exceptional or noteworthy about her either, she's just your stereotypical, squatty middle-aged hispanic lady. you see, we only have three floors in my office building so she's the only one but she is EVERYWHERE. regardless of whether i'm in the first floor break room, the second floor kitchen or the third floor bathroom, she is a THERE and in MY WAY. yet, not only is she there but she is working and working HARD. it's bad enough to run into her like five times a day but it’s even worse that i've NEVER, EVER seen her taking a break or sitting - the phrase "time to lean, time to clean" has never been tossed her way. oh no, there she is with her huge trash can on wheels a moppin', a wipin' and just generally doing her job with the fervor of a franciscan friar's flowing frock. i swear, there has to be like six of her - it's like she's part of an oompa loompa cleaning lady service or something. she just makes me feel so guilty too. here she is; probably not even fluent in english and twice my age but she's working like 10 times harder than me, all whilst making probably a quarter of what i make. then again, 100% of able bodied adults could do her job while only 85% could do mine, but still. that just goes to show that you're worth and pay are based on how replaceable you are and/or how unique your skills are... so, there you go. that's why i never feel any sympathy towards waiters and waitresses complaining about their pay or "living off tips" because anybody could do their jobs. that's why waiting tables is often the first job of so many high schoolers and only job of all these aspiring aspirers. anyway, back to my archnemesis; while i blog this i do feel kind of silly and evil myself for harbouring such resentment towards such a harmless and hard working lady but i do remember once, when she first started, that i smiled and said "hello," but she gave me the high hat and there's just been this unspoken, awkward vibe betwixt us ever since. maybe i’ll give her a white, cashmere sweater for x-mas and this will bury the hatchet… as long as she doesn’t see that red dot.

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