ONeill

Sarah ONeill
Professor Jackie
English 101
September 30, 2015

Smudges on the Wall

I take a look around the office and think to myself, this is it. It is finally my last day of
working in Property Management. The office still had the same strange smell that it had the day I
interviewed 10 years ago. A rich musky smell of old carpet and stale air. Its like not one single
janitorial staff member ever used more than a damp cloth to clean the furniture in the companys
more than 50 years of business. The walls radiate with multiple layers of white, chalky low
quality paint and the faint fingerprints of every person that stopped in to throw more work on my
desk or participate in mindless chit chat to avoid the work on their own desk. If I let my mind
wander and stare at it too long (which happened often in recent days) I can actually hypothesize
who left the majority of the prints near the door. I immediately get a mental visual of Doug and
his glossy skin that sheened with a perpetual oil slick making him always appear more stressed
than he really is. Im going to miss those fingerprints. I will guess 80% of the smudges are his
middle and index fingers as he grabbed on to the ledge of the door, yelling Clark, later it would
become ONeill. The smudges concentrate around the door jam and light switch in an array of
gray and brown tones. I am beginning to think my walls may hold the criminal records of every
employee in this place.
Its 4:50pm, I begin to realize they are really going to make me stay the whole day. I
could get fired at 8:02am and they would still pay me for the entire 8 hours as though my fireable offense gave me some sort of special privilege. Give them 10 years and a 4 week notice and
they are going to get every minute out of you. Im salary. I could get up and leave and not even

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care. But lets be honest, I could never step out of line. I still hold tight to my deep fear of
authority. Besides, I like my virtually flawless record and worked hard to be one of the few
employees to leave with their good reputation still intact, or so I hope. Maybe its best that I just
wait out the herd of people leaving at 5:01pm to avoid any more awkward goodbyes. I really
should be preparing reports and training guidelines to ensure a flawless takeover for the next
department director. I just cant seem to take my eyes off the walls.
Im not proud that I have succumbed to the short-timers mentality. I had typically
always given 150% of my life to my job. I partially blame the fluorescent bulbs above my head
that create a constant visual buzz that make people look as though they are in slow motion. My
God, how the final days have dragged. I have a strange unconditional love for this place. I grew
up here and went through many life crisis and joys from heartbreaks to marriage. I even found
my husband literally at an event I was covering at a 55+ property. The owner loves to introduce
me as his MFP (My Favorite Person) and asks my husband, in front of investors and city
officials, to tell them how he met his wife while working for his company. I laugh every time it
happens, knowing how embarrassing it is for James to tell that story in a professional work
setting. I cant help but wonder if I will work for another owner that makes me feel so
appreciated. I have never known how I even earned that kind of appreciation. My mind travels
further into the walls and reminds me of all the successes and failures I have had in the last 10
years. I really cant believe I actually gave notice. I continue to push down any second thoughts
and impending regrets deep into my stomach. I must commit to my new life.
Its 5:05pm, I better make my way to the reception area and say my last goodbyes to the
remaining employees who didnt sneak out before 5:00pm on a Friday. As I walk down the long
hall that leads to the reception area I survey the walls one last time. It is January and there are

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still Christmas decorations hung carelessly with scotch tape on more chalky white walls. I am
pretty sure these are the same paper decorations they used my first December here, in 2004. You
can actually see where the tape has been peeled off to prepare generic Rudolph for his 10-month
hibernation in a local storage facility and new tape added for his tenth debut in our musky halls.
Now that I really look at him, I dont think he has all of his left antler, another casualty of
reusing throw away decorations over and over. I will miss these goofy little idiosyncrasies.
I arrive to the reception area and Jessica, the Vice Presidents administrative assistant, is
stacking up papers into neat geometric piles and collecting her belongings for the weekend. She
sees me and smiles a large wispy smile that stretches clear across the lower portion of her face.
Its your last day! Are you so excited? I reply with my standard safe answer, I am so sad to
leave but I am really excited to pursue school. She is the 6th or 7th VP admin I have seen in my
tenure. They are always one complaining employee away from going postal. I assume it takes
a special person to work under the VP and deal with countless managers making your life more
difficult. However, this particular admin has a very dominant personality with sharp edges. She
seems to take pleasure in people screwing up so she has the honor of ratting them out to the great
and powerful Vice President. We have all been a victim of her power plays. Lucky for me, I
dont have to care anymore. Jessica forces a sympathetic look as we dance around an awkward
unemotional goodbye and I let her know I will be coming back to consult until they fill the
position so I will see her around. This statement is a life saver for me on so many levels. Not
only can I make a little extra money as needed, I can avoid the emotional goodbyes that are far
too difficult for me to bare. I look around the office, thankful that the office building has become
a deserted prison faster than I expected, and walk out the door as an unemployed student for the
first time, grabbing the wall on my way out to leave one last fingerprint smudge of my own.