The Office Cleaner

I feel sorry for her, I really do. It’s not that I don’t care because I am moving on.

I am talking about Rebecca, the office cleaner. She used to have lots of work at our old premises where there were seven separate offices and a big kitchen to clean. When we moved to this open plan office last May everybody complained that she had nothing to do and were under their feet the whole day. I’m getting my desk cleaned 3 times a day because I’m the only one that doesn’t mind that she is around. Hope the next person will be as understanding as I am.

We only need her about 3 times a week if it is that much. It must be hard to be used to lots of work and all of a sudden you don’t have many options available. Worst part is she can’t even hide somewhere in an office because it is open plan.

I brought her some clothes this week, and some old toys. I guess I empty the cupboards when I get nervous, because my time here is running out quickly. I haven’t even met half of my new colleagues at the new job, I don’t know why that is making me nervous.

My boss said the other day that she can’t guarantee anyone work for the rest of their lives. It is true. That is why am so sad. Not for me. For Rebecca, who hasn’t had all the opportunities life had to offer. She must have lived 40 years in the old South Africa. This is all she knows. This is all she will ever know.

I made a promise that I will come and visit.

I will miss her the most.