His Absolute Conditions
*
"Don't move anything out of place," the cleaning staff lead said. "Don't use non-approved equipment, don't speak unless spoken to, and don't get in the way."
This place was strict, apparently. I knew it would be tough when I started, but the pay was good and I really needed the job at the moment, even if it was only for a day. The temp agency that placed me here had seemed reluctant about offering me the job, but the staff lead said it didn't matter, that he(who was he?) wouldn't be in the office today and they just needed someone to fill the position.
That should have tipped me off to something, but I was blinded by the money. And this was at Landseer Tower, no less, one of the most high class buildings in the city, so of course they'd pay well. Still, I had to double check to make sure the figure was correct; it was more than I made in a week at most places, and this was only for today. I usually performed secretarial jobs, data entry, or anything involving paperwork, but I'd done a few cleaning jobs before. I told the woman at the temp agency I would accept it.
I should have been scared—I was scared!—but I tried to overlook it. What was the worst that could happen? The job was only for the day.
"Jessika Fevrier," the staff lead said, reading my name from a worksheet and pronouncing it wrong. "Do you have any questions?" he asked. He looked at me like I was a nuisance.
Time to lighten the mood, I thought . Not my typical strong suit, but he looked like he could use a smile, and after arriving at this place, complete with a fountain in the front lobby and crystal clear glass elevators, I was extremely nervous. "If I can't move anything out of place," I said, "how do I clean everything?"
It was a joke. I knew how to clean, and I knew what he meant. It sounded better in my head, like the sort of silly, sarcastic joke that would put someone at ease. This man would laugh, give me one of those silly shakes of his head, pat me on the shoulder, and we'd be fine for the day.
That never happened. He stared at me, long and hard, furrowing his brow in disapproval. "I think we're going to have to find someone else. It's clear to me that you are unfit for this job."
What! No, no… I needed this. "Sir, I'm sorry. It was a joke. I swear. I was just joking."
He didn't look convinced. I was certain I couldn't convince him, was just about ready to give up and walk away, knowing I'd ruined my chances at a decent opportunity. He frowned, letting out a loud sigh.
"It's your lucky day," he said. "I doubt I could find anyone else on short notice, and I don't want to explain the situation to Mr. Landseer, so I'll let you stay. The joke wasn't funny, though. I'm not entirely convinced it was a joke, either. Consider that your first and final warning. If you screw up again, you're finished. You really don't want that to happen."
I gulped, eyes wide. A blush of red heat warmed my face, the tingle of it making me feel like I was sick, like I should have stayed in bed today. Chicken soup was good for the soul, they said. You couldn't pay bills with chicken soup or a soul, though, now could you?
I gathered supplies from the closet that the lead man showed me. Nothing too difficult to handle. A feather duster, a handheld vacuum, some cleaner spray, and a special streak-free towel. Basic items, things I'd used numerous times before .
When I looked at the slip of paper with my assignment, I nearly died. He wanted me to clean Asher Landseer's personal office? Was this a joke? I flipped the paper over, hoping to find some other instructions, but there weren't any. The room grew hotter. I panicked, wanted to sneak out of the office and back to my typical run of the mill day, but then what? I couldn't just return to the temp agency.
So wandering down the hallway towards Mr. Landseer's office, I wondered why I was here again? It was a job, first off. That was a point in its favor. I'd graduated from a good school, though, and received top marks for all of my classes. Nothing perfect, but I was more than adequate. I don't want to say that this job was beneath me, but I'd expected something better after I left college.
Unfortunately, in hindsight, majoring in English Language and Literature wasn't a great choice. What use was knowing the thought process behind Shakespeare's Othello when you applied for a job? Not much, if anything. I'm fairly sure that the cleaning manager would have fired me on the spot instead of giving me a second chance if I'd tried discussing classic literature with him.
To be fair, this was exciting, though. Not cleaning, and not the technicalities of this job, but the place. Never would I have imagined coming here. It took me awhile for the realization to sink in, and I hadn't even seen much of the interior yet, but I was in the Landseer Tower. Previously owned and operated by Thomas Landseer before his death six years ago, and now owned by his son, Asher Landseer, current head of the Landseer empire.
I knew nothing about Asher, save for what I heard before coming. I was to clean his office, and make it immaculate. Why me? No one would give me a good answer to that, except to say that it shouldn't be an issue. Asher Landseer was in an important meeting and wouldn't be around, so I had free reign to clean to my heart's content and make everything perfect. The usual person who cleaned, some elderly woman, had requested the day off so she could go to her granddaughter's dance recital.
Nervous already, my anxiety soared when I heard some of the strange things people said about my situation. I passed a couple of men at a soda machine who stared at me, then laughed, saying something along the lines of "I don't envy her" when they thought I was too far away to hear them. I'd also read, mostly on tabloid covers and entertainment news articles, that Asher was eccentric and reclusive. What did that mean, though? I figured he probably just liked his alone time. It couldn't be that bad, right? He was married, afterall.