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I suddenly opened my eyes wide and immediately jumped up from the chair, even though my legs felt like they were glued to the floor. The door opened, and the same woman in glasses walked in. Behind her was a man. Broad-shouldered, with slicked-back hair and a slightly worn-out suit. He had a stern face and a strict gaze that immediately made me feel guilty, even though I hadn’t done anything.
– Apolonia, – the man said, looking at me with an expression as if he had just noticed a stain on his perfectly polished shoes. – Why haven’t you started working yet?
I gritted my teeth. "Work?! Yeah, looks like this is some kind of boss... my boss?! Damn it, Mike, get it together! If you say anything stupid now, these two will tear you apart."
– Um… sorry… phone… instructions, – I muttered, trying to make my words sound at least somewhat convincing.
– Phone? Instructions? What does that mean? – the man squinted. His tone clearly showed he wasn’t impressed with my excuse.
– I told you, she’s acting weird today, – the woman interjected, folding her arms across her chest.
– I see, – the man turned his head to her, then back to my tense face. – Very interesting.
I felt my temples start to throb. My whole body seemed to tighten from the strange pressure.
– It’s fine. I’ll start… now, – I forced out, nervously stuffing my phone into the pocket of my jumpsuit. My words sounded clumsy, like I had just invented English from scratch.
The man didn’t look impressed. He crossed his arms and scanned me from head to toe. His gaze lingered on my jumpsuit, and I suddenly felt even more humiliated.
– Alright, Apolonia. Second floor, room 3B. You know what to do?
I nodded so vigorously I almost hit my hair.
– Tak… znaczy yes, I know, – I blurted out, mixing Polish with English as if it was a new language cocktail.
The man frowned but didn’t say anything. He turned to the woman in glasses.
– If you have any more questions, let me know, – he said, and left, leaving her and me alone.
The woman rolled her eyes, then followed him out without saying a word.
Taking a deep breath, I approached the door. "Alright, let’s start with room 3B. What’s so hard, just dusting? I can handle this," I muttered to myself, grabbing a mop and bucket with undisguised disdain. I repeated the room number just to be sure I wouldn’t forget it. Anyway, while I wander around like an idiot in the hallways, I might forget this information.
I peeked into the hallway. No one. Thank god, it’s easier without witnesses. At first, I was able to walk without any problems, but as soon as the corridor began to fill with students and staff, I felt the tension in my body increase. Those looks… Some were bored, others disapproving, and some were just curious.
"God, this is so annoying," I thought, trying to ignore the people around me.
– Przepraszam, którędy na drugie piętro? (Excuse me, how do I get to the second floor?) – I asked the nearest person without thinking about speaking in Polish.
The guy in a baseball cap stared at me like I was an idiot.
– What? – he asked, clearly not understanding.
– Kurwa, (Damn), – I muttered. Gathering the remains of my English, I forced out: – How… go… second… floor? Stairs?
The guy blinked in surprise but eventually waved his hand to the left. I nodded, muttering something like "thanks," and walked in the direction he pointed, feeling a cold sweat on my back. "So this is what it’s like to be a migrant… They don’t understand you, look at you like you’re an idiot, and at best, just stay silent. Wonderful."
By the time I got to the stairs, I was nearly dying from the climb to the second floor. That damn chest was bouncing with every step, the jumpsuit belt was digging into my waist, and the ballet flats were sliding on the steps as if they were trying to kill me. "I want my sneakers, damn it!" – a thought flashed through my head.
On the second floor, I finally found the right classroom. The sign said "3B." "Well, here it is, the battlefield. Now Mike will show how to be a professional janitor," I thought, pushing the door open.
The classroom was empty. Dust on the desks, the board covered in writing, crumbs on the floor. Basically, the perfect place to start my new career path. I grabbed a rag and bucket from the hallway and started dusting.
"As if this is worse than sitting in an office… Although, damn, I’d rather be playing Counter-Strike at home right now than dealing with this shit."
In the middle of cleaning, the door suddenly opened, and two students peeked in. They said something quickly in English, clearly talking about me.
– Na co się gapicie, głupki? (What are you staring at, idiots?) – I muttered irritably, not even thinking that they wouldn’t understand me.
They exchanged glances and giggled. One of them yelled something like:
– You’re funny, lady!
I rolled my eyes. "Funny, huh? Wait till I smack you with this mop, then you’ll find it funny."
As I continued cleaning, I noticed my movements became clumsy. It was like my hands were working separately from me. The rag kept slipping, and my nails were constantly snagging on everything. "This is just pissing me off!" – I swore inwardly, angrily tossing the rag into the bucket.
When I finished with the board and desks, it was time for the floor. I started sweeping up the crumbs with a broom when I heard a voice behind me:
– Apolonia, why are you so slow today?
It was the same woman from the hallway who had been pushing me earlier. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.
– Can’t you go faster? The kids will be back soon, and you’re still dragging your feet, – she added.
– Może sama spróbujesz, co? (Maybe you should try it yourself, huh?) – I blurted out without turning around.
– What? – she asked, seemingly still not getting it.
I sighed deeply, trying to gather words in English:
– You… help… maybe? Try?
She frowned, looked me up and down, and said:
– This is your job, Apolonia. So hurry up and finish it.
She left, and I gritted my teeth, holding myself back from throwing the broom at her back. "Damn cleaning queen, big deal!"
I sighed heavily, feeling the irritation boiling inside me. "Alright, Polya, or Mike, whatever you are now," I muttered to myself. – "Just finish the work, that’s it. The money’s on the line, let’s go."
I gathered the last crumbs and looked at the floor. It seemed clean enough, even though I felt like I could do better. Damn, I never thought I’d care about how clean my floors are.
Moving to the next part of the room, I tried to focus on the job, not thinking about the looks or the humiliating situation. But with every move, I felt the jumpsuit digging more into my shoulders, and my breasts kept living their own life.
"If one more student comes in and starts grinning, I won’t hold back," I thought, wiping a stain on the floor a bit harder than necessary.
The thought kept circling in my head: "This will end somehow. It has to end. Just hold on."
I reached the board and started wiping it. The feeling of chalk under the rag was painfully familiar, reminding me of my school days. But back then, I was the guy writing jokes on the board while the teacher wasn’t looking. And now I’m cleaning it. For other students.
– To jest po prostu piekło (This is just hell), – I muttered in Polish, not even thinking about it.