The Arrogant Jerk

CHAPTER 1

Sign or no sign. It doesn’t matter to them. But when something happens to them, you are always the one to blame. They are the ones who go running to the management, complaining about how unprofessional or unethical you are. A sign. A clear sign stating that the floor is wet and walking on it increases the chances of you slipping and falling. I don’t know why people love walking on wet spaces. You would swear they are Jesus or something. Walking on water. I don’t know how many incidents that have happened here in store of people slipping and falling.

“You crazy girl. Is this your way of revenge for xenophobia?”

One once said something like that. He slipped and fell and when I tried to help him up, even though I was not responsible for his fall, he lashed out on me and insulted me. I have leant to accept that different people with different personalities come to the store every time. So I just do my job and keep my head down.

“Chizoba, someone dropped oil in aisle 8. Please go and clean it up.” my supervisor says as soon as I clock in. don’t complain, don’t grunt, don’t say no. just keep your head down. You need this job.

Honestly this is the longest job I have had since my arrival in South Africa. I was once a helper of a white family and I was fired within 2 weeks because my English was really bad and ‘I was going to influence the young ones to speak broken English.’ I didn’t even have a come back to that because I didn’t know what to say.

Then I was a petrol attendant for a month. Language was also one of the major reasons why I was fired. My boss was a Sotho man and on my first day at work he said ‘I am giving you a week to teach yourself Sotho. We can’t be talking English every time just to accommodate you.’ well two weeks down the line I received a warning. I mean how can you teach yourself a South African language? Anyhow, I was dismissed like that. And after that I lost 3 more jobs. Until my landlady recommended me for this job. This is my 7th month. Luckily I don’t have to talk a lot. My work requires more cleaning and less communicating.

I mean it would’ve been better if I didn’t have to send money home every month. Sometimes I think they think I am some kind of a billionaire because they are always asking me for money. ‘You’re working, Chizoba. You have to send us money every month end.’ that’s what my mom always say. When I told her about the second time I lost a job, she said I shouldn’t call her unless I have a real job.

Anyways I get to aisle 8 and find a white kid dancing in the spot where the oil was spilled. I do some breathing exercises to calm myself down. I am sure if he were to fall, I would be the one to blame, but no let him continue dancing. Finally his mother takes him away and I start mopping around. Nothing annoying as cleaning oil because it is so greasy and smelly and it takes time for it to really get off the floor. When I am done, I put on the warning sign and wait for the floor to dry. After that I discard the water I was using and rinse my hands.

“FUCK!” I hear a loud groan coming from aisle 8 and I quickly rush there, only to find a man on his butt. “YOU!” He looks at me. He is livid and I can see he wishes to crush my skull. “You are the one who was cleaning here?” I nod. “You are fuckin incompetent. Why the fuck didn’t you dry these floors? Now I have damaged my 12k pants and it’s all your fault.”

“Na mgbachitem, enwere ihe ngosi di ebea mana ilefalanya. Oburo m ka osi n’aka, ewu. (To my defence, there was a sign over there and you chose to ignore it. That’s not my fault, jerk.)” He frowns.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he stands up. OMG! He is so tall. Now I wish I would’ve kept my mouth shut. “Answer me.”

“My apologies for pushing you to the floor, Mr. Next time I will make sure to blow it before you walk by.” I fold my arms to my chest and he actually chuckles.