The Janitors' Closet

A varied clientele

One of the most enjoyable aspects of providing commercial cleaning service to a large and diverse clientele is the opportunity to work with, and learn a bit about, lots of different businesses and professions.  One of my favorite clients is The Nash, Phoenix's premier jazz club, which happens to be a half mile from my office, adjoining downtown Phoenix.  This last weekend was their annual fundraiser, and I scored early tickets to their New Orleans themed Sunday brunch and music.

Can't go wrong with a Dixieland band, quiche, parfait, waffles and chicken, fruit and berries, various bacons and sausages, and all the fixings.  

AND, fronting a local band, was the incomparable Wycliff Gordon, on vocals, tenor and alto trombone.  Quite the coincidence that, at a poolside picnic put on that very afternoon by my own Salt River Brass Band, conversation moved to great contemporary trombonists, and Wycliff's name came up.  Nobody else even knew he was in town.

All in all, a great weekend!

Working out

A bit after the Covid pandemic, and associated lockdowns, started, I began - VERY gradually, with due concern about protecting my back) - lifting weights.  (With the bars and honky-tonks shuttered, I needed something to do...) Looking on-line, based on my age and weight, I'm still rated at novice level on deadlifts, but (for reasons I cannot imagine) close to elite level on the one-arm dumbbell row.

Kind of thinking, should I ever retire, that a bit of competition might be fun.  Not thinking seriously, but something to conjure with. 

One inducement to such is that one generally competes within age brackets, so I wouldn't have to go up against a buff 25-year old. 

If I had sense, I'd avoid stepping into the current culture wars, but if one cannot do so in one's own personal blog, where can one? 

Seems to me that, in various athletic competitions, we categorize by age for reasons similar to our categorizing by gender. As I have different obstacles facing me than does the above referenced 25-year old, so does a biological female face different obstacles than does a male, for instance in sports involving upper body bone and musculature.  

As I would not want to face said 25-year old simply because he really, really believes he's 70, so would (I imagine) a female weight lifter not want to face a male - even if he really, really wants to be a female.

Perhaps Mark Twain put it best: "If I call my dog's tail a leg, does that mean that I own a 5-legged dog?  Clearly not.  Calling the tail a leg does not make it so."

Never, NEVER set the keys or cell phone down.

Caught an article via our friends at Cleaning & Maintenance Management regarding a janitor suing her employer because she trapped herself in a jail holding cell over the weekend; the holding cell door closed behind her, and both her keys and cell phone were outside on her cleaning cart.  There does seem to be a bit of mismanagement on the part of the employer; to quote the article:

"The complaint claims that Allied Universal should be held responsible for the incident due to improper training and a lack of supervision of their employees. “There had to have been at least seven shifts where new security folks came in,” her attorney, Bill McAfee, told WKMG. “[They] should have seen [her] driver’s license sitting there, should have seen that [her] keys had never been turned in, and that the log had never been signed out.” '

She also had health problems that made the incarceration serious.  Sounds like her employer missed some bets.

I believe in always having back-up; years back, an older client referred to it as a "belt and suspenders" approach to life.  We keep on hand a backup set of keys to all our clients, and always have a least one person easily available straight through the night (via phone, if you've not set yours down) and the weekend.

It would be interesting to see what sort of training her firm provided, regarding keeping keys and phone on one's person.  

I do our initial orientation myself.  I stress that one NEVER sets down keys or phone ANYWHERE.  We don't have many holding cells on our janitorial routs, and if one is locked in the office, there is generally a phone available But it's always possible, say, to be taking the trash to the dumpster, located in the fenced back lot, and have the self locking back door close behind you.  You'd be in the lot for the rest of the night, or weekend, if you'd left keys and phone on the front desk.

In our orientation, I illustrate using a personal example.  Just after going into business, 40-plus years ago, I was cleaning a small office building featuring several locked suites off a central hallway.  Entered the hallway, locked myself in (to avoid being surprised by the burglars), went into the first suite, set my keys on the reception desk, caught trash and dusting and then went back into the hall to get my vacuum (a Kirby in those days - remember them?)  The self locking door closed.  I was trapped in the locked hallway, without a phone booth (remember those?)  And these were the days long before any kind of mobile phone (remember those days?)

Managed to hop atop a soda machine and accessed the suite, and my keys, via the hung ceiling. Likely I was a bit more spry in those days (remember those days?)

I learned my lesson. Wonder if the gal's firm had a similar personal example, of what not to do.

 

Ashokan Farewell

This has nothing to do with my usual janitorial ruminations, but on something else that's concerned me for some time.  I happen to be introducing a tune at this Sunday's Salt River Brass concert, Jay Unger's Ashokan Farewell; here's my thoughts:

Ashokan Farewell is the haunting theme used throughout Ken Burns PBS series “The Civil War”.  It’s a waltz in the style of a Scottish lament. 

     From its style, most folks assume it to be of the Civil War period; in fact, it’s the only piece used in the film that is of modern origin, written by fiddle player Jay Ungar in 1982.

    It is introduced as background to the reading of a letter from Sullivan Ballou to his young wife just before the battle of Bull Run.  Ballou was major of a volunteer Rhode Island regiment; he lost his leg to a Confederate 9-pounder at the battle, and died a week later.  In his letter, he speaks of their short life together, and of their 2 sons.

    In 1915, the Ashokan reservoir was completed, providing water to New York City.  It inundated a number of small rural communities, including the village of Ashokan itself.  Nothing special about them, but the farms, schools and churches demolished represent generations of families, lives intertwined – a small community cast aside.  We have little enough community in our lives; it’s perhaps fitting to take a moment to reflect on a community lost.

Here's a clip of the original: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kZASM8OX7s 

 

An update on the homeless encampment, and the Old Station, from an old friend

 Bob, a few days back you posted a story titled 'Homeless in My Neighborhood' about the Old Station, an old gas station that's been converted into a cute sandwich shop in 'the Zone'.  As your article mentioned, the Zone refers to the epicenter of the homeless population in Phoenix, both various homeless resource providers and the large encampment.

I also recall, as you mentioned, ordering lunch from the Old Station when I worked at CBN.  They have good food.  

As you know, for a couple of years I worked for a homeless service provider located about a block from the sandwich shop.  I, along with several of my coworkers from the shelter, would frequent the Old Station for lunch about once a week; the owners where really wonderful.  I frequently saw the challenges they faced trying to operate just a couple of blocks from three homeless shelters and two soup kitchens... I thought the least I could do was buy a sandwich from them once a week.  

Something else that you mentioned in the article was a reference to 'The Duce', and the old produce market that used to be located near downtown Phoenix. 

I grew up in Phoenix and attended Old Saint Mary's High School; my dad was a Phoenix Police homicide detective, and my uncle sold melons, onions, and corn at the old produce market.  I actually knew several families that bought and sold produce there as well.  I have fond memories of eating breakfast with my dad and uncle at the old Busy Bee Cafe next to the old produce market. 

So, a few points of correction for the article you posted.  You referred to the 'The Duce', the proper spelling is 'The Deuce', and while 'The Deuce' was near the old produce market, the name had no reference to produce.  The word deuce means 'two dollars', and referred to an area in old Phoenix that was infamous for prostitution. 

When a newspaper reporter once asked Former Phoenix Mayor Margret Hance, 'why is that area called 'The Deuce', she quipped back 'Oh come on boys, that's what it costs'.  That is one of my favorite Maggie Hance stories, the other being when she appeared on stage for a Junior League costume and talent show charity benefit, dressed as Noblesse Oblige.  The mayor strolled on stage handing out cake, and even had the accent of the 'second estate' down.  I really miss that gal! 

See the map I prepared that shows the epicenter for homeless services located in The Zone, near where CBN's office is located, and where the Old Station is.  

The map also shows where the 'The Deuce' and the old produce market were once located.  Close, but different places.  

Bill 

Perhaps we ought not "whitewash" history

Folks ignorant of history make some ironic decisions.

Recently, both the national Audubon Society and its New York chapter have contemplated removing Audubon's name from their names, having (apparently) recently discovered that Audubon owned slaves.  The national society elected to retain the name; the New York chapter is removing it.  The New York chapter seems  oblivious to the rather more odious "York" in their name (and in that of city and state as well). The "York" was James II, Duke of York and brother to Charles II later king in his own right. New York was named for James after a James-organized expedition stole New Amsterdam from the Dutch.

For the irony: In around 1660, James founded the Royal African Company, with assistance from King Charles and London merchants.  The company was created to enjoy a monopoly on all British trade with the African coast, including that in silver, gold, ivory and slaves.  James was governor of the company until 1688, and its largest shareholder.  That would have made him one of the largest slave traders of his day, not to mention (further irony for a conservationist organization) one of the largest ivory traders. Audubon was small potatoes by comparison. 

The recent push to remove disreputable names from our lexicon seems rather double edged.  While, as it were, dishonoring some of the dishonorable, it allows us to avoid reminders of our history, warts and all.

Perhaps modern Germany has a better idea.  Shortly after the war, Germans contemplated demolishing the Nazi concentration camps, removing painful reminders of the Holocaust. On consideration, the kept some, turned them into museums, and encouraged the public to visit.  They have also, more recently, installed metal plaques into sidewalks, identifying homes where Jews once lived - thus giving neighbors a daily reminder.

Those who do not remember history are likely doomed to repeat it.  

Homelessness in my neighborhood

Caught a New York Times article today about a sandwich shop a bit over a half mile from .  It's called Old Station Subs, and we've ordered take-out from them from time to time over the years.  Phoenix's huge homeless encampment (1100
and counting) is a block or two from the shop; the article deals with the issues longtime small business owners face with drug dealing, theft, murder and general crime occurring on their doorstep.

The neighborhood abuts the old "Duce", along the rail yard.  the name is variously attributed to it's being the old produce district, it's situation between 2nd Street and 2nd Avenue ("duces"), or that the local "ladies of the night" (the prime neighborhood industry) used to charge that.

It was seedy but perhaps not as dangerous or hopeless as today.  We had a couple of clients in old warehouses in the district; here's a bit I wrote a dozen or more years about our janitor at one of those clients:

"Getting the job done"

Some other janitorial services have all sorts of excuses for why the client received no service last night, and I hear them when preparing cleaning packages: had a flat tire, someone out sick, got confused about which places are on tonight's schedule, and so on.

Brings to mind an incident of many years past.  We were cleaning a string of small industrial facilities in Phoenix's tenderloin area, called the "Duce", from its origin as a produce warehouse district.  We had a tough middle aged gal - tougher than me - cleaning the route; she couldn't have been over 5'2", maybe 100 pounds.  She was thoroughly used to rolling winos (the then current term) out from in front of client doorways, so she could get in to clean.  In the wee hours of one evening, in the middle of her route, she tried to move the expected wino, and found him to be a body instead.  Called the police.

She got the building cleaned, and the rest of her route - just barely.  Hadn't called us at the time, because it really wasn't a problem she couldn't deal with herself.  Next morning, she dropped by our office - needed to vent.  Seems the cops had kept her answering questions for several hours - and she had WORK to do. 

We've not had any clients in the Duce for over a decade; most firms there have closed.  But we still do get the job done.

Thoughts on reading and attention span

Had lunch a week ago with an old friend. Well educated, active in the community - he serves as a volunteer on a major city policy-making commission. In the course of conversation, I recommended several recent books, including Nicholas Carr's "The Shallows", whose thesis is that the distractions of modern society, notably the internet with it's hyperlinks, email and social media, are training our minds to avoid deep, concentrated thinking (research shows, more and more, that the brain remains plastic and adaptable throughout life) of the sort required in perusing a serious book.

My friend replied that he doesn't have time to read books these days (and barely magazines and newspapers); he had a shelf with "500 or so" books he needed to read. I suggested an experiment: he could free up time by disconnecting his television, just for a week. He looked at me in horror (really): "I couldn't do that".

I live the experiment myself. Several years ago, something in the cable box or TV lost it's programming; I'd need to dig out the manuals to figure out how to get the (vital) TV working again. Being male, I never read directions, as a matter of principle. So I put off doing the manuals until tomorrow - and the next day - and next week. And realized I was reading books again. I kept paying for the cable package for well over a year, unused, unable to cut that final umbilical cord. I've now been without TV for some three years. And reading.

Large, ever expanding numbers of folks in the Western tradition became literate (in the sense of reading deeply and regularly, not simply being able to read) when printed books hit - about the same time as the West began its exponential growth in knowledge: science, exploration, production and so on. It's generally conceded that wide availability of books and periodicals allowed the dissemination of information - a factory owner learned from a chemist who leaned from a geologist. That dissemination accounted for growth. Might also the ability, developed by deep reading, to concentrate long term on a single thing help that growth in knowledge? It's hard to imagine a Thomas Edison, or a Henry Ford, without the ability to concentrate.

Deep concentration seems not to be an inborn human trait. Growing up, evolving, in a hunter-gather society, one ought never get lost in concentration, but rather be attuned to any distraction that might hit. Should you miss the bit of movement in the corner of your eye, you might become dinner. It was only reading, long and undistracted, that could allow the individual to develop the neural pathways needed for concentration.

I mentioned "The Shallows" to another friend, one who in his youth read deeply - philosophy and stuff. Goethe and Kant, for gosh sakes. He replied that he did not need to get the book; he'd found a video of author Nicholas Carr discussing it. And he could kind of listen to the video while texting, emailing and surfing the web.

A very Merry Christmas, to you and yours.

  “Christmas is not a time or a season but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.  If we think on these things, there will be born in us a Savior and over us will shine a star sending its gleam of hope to the world.”  

Calvin Coolidge, Presidential message  on December 25, 1927 

CBN's offices in the restored 1914 L.L. Steward House, in downtown Phoenix

Solves a wide variety of problems

In my youth (longer ago than I care to admit) I owned several Volkswagens, including an iconic 1960 bus, in faded red.  Having few resources, I acquired a bit of ability in vehicle repairs, in the days when one did not need a computer to diagnose.  Much repair work was seat-of-the-pants, using whatever materials - duct tape and bailing wire come to mind - and odd tools happened to be at hand.

These days, doing commercial janitorial, I have different concerns.  Like, supplying TP to clients, and making sure it stays locked up so it doesn't walk off.  Had a very high end machine shop a few years back; if memory serves, they contracted work from the aerospace industry.  In the back corner of a huge production area just filled with high end tools sat a small fenced off secure area, always locked.  In it they kept their toilet paper.

So the attached graphic struck home.