Tale Weaver – #251 – Jobs – 28th November – Someone Has To Do It.


It wasn’t the best job around, but as his mum had told him on his first day: “Someone has to do it.”

She also reminded him the job needed to be done well as no one liked a sloppy worker.

He had applied himself to his job, took pride in the fact he was doing his community a service.

The job as a cleaner of the park facilities had given him an insight into the community he lived in.

For the most part, people were good, they treated the facilities with respect, but like everything in life, there were those who didn’t.

Of all the days in the week, he disliked Mondays the most. Over the weekend when there was no cleaning service provided the people who used the public facilities seemed to care little and Monday’s was always the worst day.

He would shake his head and wonder what the people who fouled the toilets did within their own homes.

From faeces spread on the floor and walls, to toilet paper blocking the pans and the most obscene graffiti on the walls it was all there at the start of the week, and he worked hard and as quickly as he could to clean them up and make them available.

It soon became obvious to him that his job was not one that was going to take him places apart from moving from one park to another. The reality was the Council were more than happy to have him be the cleaner as the position was not one they had a flood of applicants for.

So, he stuck at it, hating it some days, despising the people who inflicted so much grossness on him and on other days enjoying the conversation he would strike up with the locals.

As the years went by and he grew into middle then older age the job was always there, he knew it wasn’t going to go away.

“As long as people shit and piss, I’m in a job,” he’d say to the guys he drank with at the pub each Friday afternoon.

He never married, he didn’t seek company, he would go home each day scrub his body under the shower to rid himself of the day’s odours and then settle in front of his television and watch the national news and once a week speak to his younger sister on the phone.

His was a job not many, if any, coveted.

Each morning he’d dress in his council uniform and head out the door, ready to do all he could to make his job mean something.


Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/11/28/tale-weaver-251-jobs-28th-november/

This entry was posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Tale Weaver – #251 – Jobs – 28th November – Someone Has To Do It.

  1. Sadje says:

    Great story Michael. Some people do these jobs and it’s brave of them to stick to them.

  2. On behalf of all the unsung heroes of our public lavvies, I do thank you, Michael for your thoughtful piece.

  3. oneta hayes says:

    Hats off to the people who make life better – people whom we forget too often. And may we be blessed with more folks with a prideful work ethic.

  4. These are the souls that go unrecognised. Nice tale Michael.

  5. Lyn says:

    What really sticks in my craw is when people (okay, women) who, after washing their hands, use a paper towel or a wad of toilet paper to open the entry door so they don’t have to touch the handle and then just drop it on the floor as they walk away. I won’t say who the worst offenders are in defense of being branded racist.

  6. Jules says:

    In hubby’s family the push was to get a college education. ‘Mom’ had said she didn’t care if they collected trash – they were going to be educated trash collectors!
    I watched a show once where a retired trash collector had made quite a collection of good stuff that had been tossed.
    No reason though to not be happy and find love… That alone makes me sad.

Please feel free to comment, I appreciate your thoughts.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s