BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

02

Eventually, it is Monday, and I leave for the inn before my flatmates even wake up. At work, I change into the uniform, which is hideous. The black dress trousers are flexible enough for us to bend over when necessary, and the navy shirt hides stains well enough.

The walk is the only pleasant thing I anticipate happening today. The walk is short; at least, it's shorter than my roommates will have to travel to get to UInverness. They have a thirty-minute train to get to the uni, just out of town. I get a twenty-minute walk to the inn. The inn backs onto the river, but tourists are always willing to shill out for a stay in the castle rather than a simple inn.

Tourist season is over anyway. Seasonal contracts have already ended. I'm lucky that I'm holding on to the job as it is. Although, that job with a dentist would be preferable.

At the beginning of most shifts, I usually can avoid coworkers. I'm the only non-Scot who works here. A few of the others are my age, with one working part-time while taking classes, one having dropped out but is too scared to tell his parents, and the last never even tried to apply after sixth form. There are about a dozen other people who work here too, but I rarely see them, so I don't bother committing them to memory. Hopefully, they don't try to remember me either.

Today, an old woman is working housekeeping with me. Her name is probably Joan or Jean, or some other name like that. She is earlier than me. I barely punch in with a minute to spare. She leaves with the carpet cleaner and one of the vacuums.

"I'll start on the top floor," she tells me. "You can do the lobby."

The only response I give is a nod. She heads out. I wonder how she is going to drag the rug into the lift and bring it to the basement to clean it. Whenever we work together, she massages her swollen knuckles. It's got to be arthritis, but she has never complained about it to me. Part of me wants to ask. If I could give her a small break, I would.

I bet she would tell me about her pain if she wanted me to know.

Once the lift doors are shut, I put together a trolley with all the cleaning equipment I will need for the lobby. Eventually, I lock the door behind me and head out to do manual labour for the next several hours.

"Morning," the voice is chipper when the lift doors ding open. When I pull out of the hallway and into the lobby, I hear a huge sigh of relief from behind the desk.

I glance over at Graham, one of the other people my age who work here. He must have gotten up late. His normally gelled hair looks unkempt. He itches his stubble as he looks at me.

"Sorry, Jane, thought you were a guest," he smiles at me, though he squints. The tone of customer service has left his voice.

I offer half a smile, before moving over to the couch. Monday morning is the best time to clean them, according to the manager. So, I begin to use the vacuum. We paid the premium for expensive ones that are quiet so that guests can sleep through the noise. Unfortunately, that means they aren't as powerful, and a lot of dirt is still stuck in the fabric.

I move slowly, sluggishly. Another year and it feels like I'm kind of stuck here. Like dirt in the sofa. It is easy to become mad, so I close my eyes for a second and then continue. Breathing deeply is hard when the dust is kicked up in the air.

Once I've gotten as much of the shit that tourists and businessmen left behind, I begin to clean the carpet with the other dinky little machine. This one uses water and soap to suck out all the stains. I don't think it cleans properly. People don't use these couches very much, but every week there is more and more dirt pulled out of the cushions. The couch is a sandy brown, but it must be cream or even white underneath.