Okay, I’ll just say it: The lunch room is filthy. I mean it — it is disgusting. And for those of you who don’t know me, I’ll just tell you a little something about myself. I am not a germaphobe. I believe that our immune systems get stronger by interacting with minor organisms. But this lunchroom — gross. I mean it.
I suppose it’s because it is populated largely by cool, college-aged kids who are still learning how to clean up after themselves. But that makes it no less frustrating when every table is covered in crumbs, mayo droppings or spilled green tea stickiness. And the garbage cans — the tops of the garbage cans are so nasty, I can’t bring myself to use them. I keep my garbage in my lunch bag and toss it out at home.
Oh! And, about garbage: There are recycling bins in there, but all of the full-timers tell us that the stuff doesn’t really get recycled. It just gets bagged up and tossed out. Why? I mean, this is a big corporation. Certainly they can manage to contract with a recycling program and get our soda cans, water bottles and office paper picked up for the greater good.
Interestingly, we were initially told that there were two video cameras in the lunch room, to prevent “lunch theft.” But I only see one. It makes me a little nervous to know that there may be another surveillance camera in there, hidden. Where could it be? And who is it trying to watch? And, more importantly, can’t the security people see how nasty the kitchen looks?
In the riveting meeting we had with supervisor Ray earlier in the week, he told us that if we were working on a slow shift, we could ask to be allowed to clean the kitchen. From the looks of it, that doesn’t happen very often. Or, maybe it doesn’t happen very well. When I go in there on my break, I long to clean it — give it a good, long scrub. The food-prep area is pretty big, and I could get out some Comet and some Softscrub and just really dig in. That sink could shine, I just know it! The insides of the fridges would be emptied and wiped with hot, soapy water so that all of the spilled coffee and sticky soup broth would melt away. I would pile up all the lunch-bag labels in one place (currently, they are scattered over each counter with the used-up backings littering the corners and, sometimes, the floor). The fronts of the cupboards could use a little vinegar and water to get rid of the grimy fingerprints. The floors — swept and mopped. I could spend an easy hour, maybe two, putting Mr. Clean back in there where he belongs! (Note to self: Fantasies about clean kitchens and bald, animated mascots only demonstrate how old and boring you are.)