Bill was a guy I met on my second gig, a janitorial job after hours in which the company was contracted to clean banks and offices in and around Milwaukee. It was the most pleasant meeting, as it was my first day on the job, a brisk fall Monday and I was early to the site, getting there at 5 p.m. when I wasn't slated to check in until 6:30.
"Oh, so you're the new help, huh? Why don't you make sure you take out all the trash, and be sure to clean our toilets," he said to me, as his tone alone had me looking at him sideways.
"The last guy who cleaned these offices didn't know shit about wiping anything down, sanitizing, anything of that nature. Please don't be the reason we cut you guys' contract?"
I sat in the lobby of the bank where he was the general manager, texting Trisha, my supervisor to let her know I was 20 percent willing to stay at this location, or she would come and pipe down Bill.
"Don't sweat him. Bill is one of my favorite customers, he's been running that location for a long time. He's a sweet guy, it's just that the girl that was cleaning before you was a meth head that cared less about doing a good job as much as getting high," she messaged back.
I reread the message and was able to calm down, and so I ended up sitting near Fred, the security guard, chatting about sports while the bank was nearly empty as it was near closing time. Bill would come out to speak to Fred about a few things and I looked away, my concentration broken by Bill then speaking to me.
"You mad at what I said earlier," he asked.
"Not at all, just stating your opinion," I told him.
"Good. I can be a bit crass when it comes to this branch, for me and my staff take great pride in it, and we like to present a clean atmosphere to our customers, for it makes them want to come back, with more customers," he said with a wry smile.
I looked back with a fake grin, then looked forward, then looked back at him as he was starting to walk away and winked at me before stepping. I looked at Fred as the tall, fat Cuban laughed, for he knew I was irritated by him.
"Bro, he's good, trust me. He just real particular about things," Fred explained as my shift was about to begin.
The bank was closed, with Fred and Bill ensuring the doors were locked, and the remaining tellers were filing out. Fred gave me a tour of the modest, one floor building showing me where the cleaning closets, bathrooms, and various work spaces, letting me know the code to the building for when I was departing.
"Make sure you set the alarm, bro. The girl before you, was notorious for not doing that," he warned me.
I took heed to everything he said as we made our way back to the front lobby, with Bill, wearing a long, brown peacoat over his dress shirt and black slacks, bidding us adieu.
"I apologize to you," he said as he got close enough for me to smell his cologne. "I'm Bill. You are?"
"Terry," I told him.
"The fact you came an hour before your shift, speaks volumes. I really appreciate all of what you do already," he said to me, before tipping his Kangol and walking out the door.
Fred would follow behind him, and I'd get to work as I went to the first closet to tackle the hardest job first: the bathrooms. I listened to music while scrubbing, wiping, spraying, and doing all the tasks necessary to get the nastiest part of the job premium again. After two hours all the bathrooms were pristine, smelling much better than when I first started when I began working the offices. I did Bill's first, listening to Sade and in the zone to "Cherish The Day" when I felt a body touch me and scared the shit out of me. It was Bill.
"It's me rookie, relax, don't grab a gun and shoot me," he said as I removed my headphones. "Sheesh, man, I'm just going into my drawer to grab some things."
He's come back in workout gear, a tank top, shorts and running shoes despite it being 15 degrees fahrenheit outside. I questioned why he wore little clothes.
"Because when I'm home, I like to wear as less clothes as possible if you must ask," he said to me. "I'm a bear when it comes to this weather, I've lived here all my life. I can handle it."
I watched him leave the office and go out the front door, taking a look at his ass to see that he wasn't wearing any underwear. The six foot, maybe 270, 280 lb. bear daddy had nice curves that would have benefitted from my touch, and so he was in my sights of maybe me putting my hands in those shorts, or perhaps even pulling them down. I continued in his office to see he had family pictures, notably two of younger females he was smiling with, that resembled his face. I finished his office, then worked my way around as four hours passed, and I was entering the code to the door. Snow started to fall as I walked out, but then I noticed a dark, newer model Ford F-150 sitting in the bank manager's parking spot and saw the interior light up as if it was Bill.
"Hey man, I really am sorry about earlier. Let an old man take you to dinner," he asked.
"No thanks, Mr. Bill," I told him as it was cold and I just wanted to get in my truck to go home.
"I can't take no for an answer, Terry. I'm not that kind of guy you saw earlier, just was frustrated from an interaction. C'mon, let me take you to dinner and truly show my appreciation," he asked.
I thought back to Trisha's text prior and would accept the offer despite the mantra of never mixing business with pleasure, but then it crossed my mind that I could've perhaps learned something from this man. He drove a bit while chatting, now having on a heavy fleece to cover his tank top as I was sure to think we'd get kicked out of whatever restaurant we were visiting.
"I know the owner of the spot where we're going, so we're fine," he said. "So tell me more about you."
"Well, I'm still trying to figure out why you've got the cleaning man in your nice automobile, and you're taking him out to dinner on his first night working," I said in response.
That made Bill chuckle right as we stopped in front of Tofte's, a trendy, family owned American restaurant that was rumored to have some of the best duck around. We went inside, and the wait staff lit up when Bill walked in, as they directed to a booth of Bill's choosing. We sat, ordered our refreshments then he explained why we were sitting in the restaurant.
