The Time That Greta Almost Swept Me Away

It's a pretty quiet work day. I take a late lunch, eating quietly at my desk while I discreetly peruse my personal email. I finish up my can of iced tea, and toss it into the trash can a couple of feet away from my desk. I close my personal email and open up my work inbox to read the latest message to come in. As I am reading, Greta comes by with a dustpan and broom. She stands to my right and waits for me to acknowledge her. I do the opposite and pretend she's not even there.

"Please," she says. "To dust." And she gestures for me to get up from my desk.

I look directly at her, mutter "Jesus Christ" under my breath, and roll my chair backwards to give her room.

Greta proceeds to "sweep" the carpeting around my desk. She spends a long time making sure each fleck of dust and each little crumb gets caught in the bristles of her broom so she can guide it safely into the dustpan. She does her job diligently, and aggressively, committed to making my area dirt-free. I start thinking to myself about how I should probably start appreciating Greta - after all, she does make my work environment a safer place to be. Dirt and crumbs lead to bacteria, disease, and sometimes Herpes. And I really don't want to get Herpes at work.

I smile to myself and think, "Wow, Greta really is amazing. She cares!" I decide to express my thanks - but just as I am about to say my thank-yous, Greta stops what she is doing. She turns around to look at me, and says, "Please - to move! To clean!" She gestures at me to move back even further from my desk.

All of my gratitude quickly flies out the window. Greta almost had me fooled. She almost had me second-guessing myself this whole time. I always thought that she was an evil cleaning lady, who makes it her mission to sabotage my work flow, my workspace, and my damn apples. Today I thought Greta might be different.

But, no, Greta is the evil cleaning lady I always thought she was.

I roll my chair backwards, allow her to smugly sweep up more of my granola mess, finish up, and walk away.

I roll my eyes, slide back towards my desk, and blog.

Greta and the Staredown

I take late lunchbreaks. Everyone knows that. Even Greta, which is probably why today she tried to take advantage of me.

As I'm walking back to my desk today, I see Greta from afar, shuffling about near my desk. As I get even closer, I see that she is dusting my desk. I approach my desk and Greta turns to face me.

She looks at me.

I look at her.

She looks at her garbage can and back at me (which I did not take offensively at that point in time but now, looking back on it, could be kind of insulting).

"Sorry, so sorry," says Greta. She smiles, nods her head ever so slightly, grabs hold of her can, and drives it away.

"That's right, Greta," I think to myself, "Walk away. Walk away and never come back... unless you come before 8am or after 5pm."

I smile satisfactorily, pull my chair out, sit down at my desk, and stare right at today's afternoon snack: a green apple. Mind you, an exposed green apple.

Did you dust it today, Greta? Did you!?! Damn you, Greta. Damn you.

Greta and the Green Apple

Yesterday, as I'm working at my desk, Greta comes by with her yellow duster and garbage can in tow. I shrug my shoulders and carry on with my work. Usually Greta comes by to dust the empty desks. But yesterday, well yesterday, was a special day.

Greta shuffles over to me, pushing a tall garbage can, and holding a yellow duster in her right hand.

Greta: "Em, ekskuse me. Please to get up from desk."

I stare at Greta in disbelief.

Greta: "Please to get up. Must clean area."

I take my iPod with me and roll my chair back a couple of feet. Greta looks at my desk , then looks at me. She tilts her head downward and looks at me above the frames of her eyeglasses.

Greta: "Please take cup of water."

I fearfully scurry over to my desk and take my cup of water. Greta smiles smugly and I watch as she proceeds to dust her yellow duster all across the surface of my desk, my phone, my computer, my tape dispenser, my scissors, my cell phone, and my apple. WHAT, MY APPLE!??!!?

Greta finishes dusting, looks at me, and gestures to me that it's safe to go back to my desk. I follow suit. I look at my clean desk, surveying the area to see if her yellow duster really did the trick. As I scan the surface of my desk, I come across my afternoon snack. My green apple. My poor green apple. I shake my head, and take a sip of my water.

"Oh, Greta," I think to myself, "you just had to dust my fucking apple, didn't you?"

Greta walks away, rolling the tall garbage can, holding the yellow duster in her right hand, humming to herself. I then sneeze from all of the dust.

"Fucking Greta," I mutter aloud.