The Others

The temperature was falling fast as rain teemed onto my head, making my curls stick to my cheeks. I slipped into the fraternity house to take cover. After walking down the ill-lit hallway, the smell of warm urine engulfed my nostrils. I soon found the room responsible for this putrid odor. Damp towels were cast onto the floor in a crumpled heap, while soggy paper towels lay among them. A slimy bar of soap was welded to the shower floor. The mirror was decorated with tiny circles and sizable smears of toothpaste, as if someone was attempting to create art work. Small, yellow blotches of urine accompanied the toilet bowl seat, making the air thick and difficult to breathe. As I turned my gaze away from the bathroom in repulsion, I saw her. A mop had occupied one hand, while a cleaning product another. We both smiled, though mine was slight, as I quickly averted my eyes from her, ashamed at the mess she would soon discover.

I realized that what I had witnessed was a minuscule part of what happens every day at Stetson. This was one person and one bathroom; a small piece of a larger puzzle. For the first time, I stopped to ask myself: Who are these people? As I would soon find out, they are more than just custodians. They are dedicated, hard-working people, who truly care for the students at Stetson. I wondered whether students felt the same.

KJ and Cury

I sat down with Kevin Jefferies “KJ” and Darrius Cury who are assistant supervisors to the custodians. Darrius explains that he and KJ have not received the title of supervisor, because Stetson does not want to pay them a salary rate. “Stetson wants to save money, so we are payed hourly like the other custodians.” With this continued attempt to save money, Stetson has made cuts to the pay roll. “We make a living off of your enrollment,” KJ added, slouching in his chair. This means custodians have less job security because of fluctuating enrollment. “Eight years ago, Stetson had to lay off people because enrollment was so low.” Despite this, some custodial staff members have managed to stay employed with Stetson for over thirty years. “Patricia Hill has worked in Carson Hall for forty years,” KJ clarifies, reaching for the jar of pretzels that sits between Darrius and me.

I proceeded to ask if there were any health packages and benefits for the custodians. Darrius, leaned forward in his chair with his shoulders hunched over, excited to speak next. “Yes they have health insurance. Dental, vision, and health plans are provided. And with the benefits, children and spouses of the custodians can attend Stetson free of charge.”

Domingo

Domingo was born in the Philippines and moved to the United States in 1998. When asked why he moved, he replied, “I don’t know. I was just wandering around.” He found a job for NASCAR and would cook food for the races. However he soon quit, explaining that, “when you are married with family, you have to stay home. It’s hard: travel. Sometime I drove my boss’ motor home. We stay for 7 days in one state and move to another,” he explains. “But my marriage not going to be strong with this job always moving. So I quit. Now, I cook at home,” he winks, “that’s why my wife loves me.”

In 2005, Domingo worked part-time for Stetson, but had to leave that position. “I need to buy milk, McDonald’s,” he exclaims, “but I cannot afford. Stetson would not give me more than 4 hours per week. So I worked Winn Dixie.” Two years later, a full time position for custodian became available at Stetson. “I can’t afford to send my kid to college, so I quit my job at Winn Dixie and I go to Stetson.” With no plans of leaving Stetson, Domingo is creating a future plan for his son.

“I want good education for my boy, so I want to stay. It’s hard to get a job today.”

Today, Domingo is assigned the Hollis Center on campus. “There’s a lot of cool persons here,” he explains, “they are less stressed and happy…everybody’s happy. We lost 2 students this week, happiness was missing from their lives. So happiness is important.” He paused and explained that he felt safe on campus and why. “With shootings at other universities — we don’t have that here. But if there was a shooting, I would be prepared.” When I prodded him to explain just how he would be prepared he said, “I’d go into the closet and zoop! Up the ladder onto the roof.” His hand shot straight into the air, demonstrating how he would climb up the ladder in a swift manner. He then proceeded to comment on how slow my note taking was. “Everyone’s on their phones today. People are struggling to read and write and they are hurting their eyes by staring at screens all day.” I took a mental note to write faster.

Towards the end of the interview, I had asked if there was anything else juicy that he could add to this story. His reply: “Juicy?! What you mean juicy? There’s a lot of juicy in the gym!” I doubled over in laughter. Attempting to steer the interview away from the subject at hand, I asked my last question which was if he felt that the students respected him.

“If I have respect for students, they have respect for me back. We talk trash, but we jokin’ around. Life is hard, don’t be so serious. Be happy.”

Eugenia

Eugenia moved to the United States from Mexico City and has been living in Florida now for the past 32 years. Originally assigned the night shift at Stetson, Eugenia prayed daily for a day shift. She said, “I want my family to be together- my kids and my husband- for food.” After one year of working the night shift in the Lynn Business Center, Eugenia was assigned the day shift for the sorority houses.

My first question was whether she prefers the sorority homes over the LBC. “Oh yes,” she beams, “I feel home here. My girls- they are my second family.” The “girls” she refers to are the female students that live there. “I don’t feel comfortable during summer because there’s no students. My girls write me letters; I keep them in my car for memories. They give me gifts.” I asked her to clarify what she meant by this. “They give me a microwave — do you need a microwave?” I smile and shake my head no.

“Also, they give me food, chairs, lamps. But I give to the church. There are many Mexicans who go there and have nothing, so I give to them.”

I remembered KJ and Cury’s health and benefit packages and inquired about hers. Eugenia explained that her dental care was not enough. “I have periodontal disease, but I cannot afford to get help.” She began crying as her eyes swelled with tears. “My bill is two thousand dollar. Work will only cover cleaning. After I retire, I want to make more time for myself — my teeth.” I tell Eugenia that her teeth look fine and not to worry. She smiles at this.

Wanting to learn more about Eugenia, I asked if she has any children. “I have two children. My daughter, she graduate from Stetson with art major, but my son left the school because I got a warning for hugging.” I asked her to elaborate. “The manager from Human Resources pulled me aside, she said I will receive a warning for hugging students.” She is crying, her voice cracks.

“I can’t hug you anymore. The students are my family, but I can only shake hands. My heart is broken.”

She continues, “I am so stressed from this and stopped eating. But I don’t want to lose my job because I work for my family. My daddy had a stroke and he can’t move. I make money to help my daddy.” She covers her face with her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“But I thank God each day for my life. I’m happy what I do.”

Eugenia’s happiness and love for life is unmistakable.

After discovering the relationship between the custodians and the students, there seems to be this sense of community on campus — one I did not recognize before. I look at custodians with a better understanding of who they are. I take comfort in acknowledging the fact that these people care for me and for all the students on campus. The next time you see a custodian, smile and remember that they car. Though each of them has a story to tell, your happiness is important to them.