“Save it for tomorrow night,” James said. “10 PM sharp. Wear something you can clean in.”
After Patricia left, I broke down crying. James gently put his hand on my shoulder.
“Mr. Mitchell, I don’t want to cause trouble—”
“You’re not causing anything. That woman assaulted you.” He paused. “Rosa, why didn’t you tell anyone I was the owner? You recognized me, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “You come in sometimes. But you never wanted people to know. I figured you had your reasons.”
“You kept my secret even though I’m just another customer to you?”
“Everyone deserves their privacy, Mr. Mitchell. Even bosses who dress like bikers.”
He laughed. “Rosa, effective immediately, you’re getting a raise. Twenty-five dollars an hour. Full benefits. And you’re now our night shift supervisor.”
I nearly fainted. “Mr. Mitchell, I don’t have the education—”
“You have twelve years of experience. You know this store better than anyone. The other night workers respect you. That’s all the education you need.”
James was there too. “Rosa’s going to train you tonight. You’re going to do everything she says. Every toilet. Every floor. Every trash can. And if you don’t, that video goes public.”
For eight hours, Patricia worked beside me. She scrubbed toilets. Mopped floors. Emptied garbage cans full of rotting food. Her back hurt. Her knees ached. Her hands blistered.
Around 3 AM, she broke down crying in the bathroom. “I can’t do this anymore. How do you do this every night?”
“For twelve years,” I said quietly. “Because I have to. Because my granddaughter needs help with college. Because this is the only job that would hire a seventy-eight-year-old woman with no education.”
“I’m sorry,” Patricia said, and this time she meant it. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve never thought about… I’ve never considered what it’s like.”
“Most people don’t,” I said. “We’re invisible to you. The people who clean your offices, your hContinue reading…
