Sous Contrat Avec Le PDG

The crowded bus reminds me every day how hard it is to be poor - of course I'm being ironic. Today, luckily, I got a seat, which doesn't always happen, especially on a Friday. I am happy and grateful for that, looking at the scenery and praying that no one needs my seat, because I am exhausted. I've worked all week and my day off won't be until Wednesday. When we are born poor, it feels like we live at work and visit home.

José usually takes the bus two stops after mine, and I am saving a seat for him next to me. Anyone who takes the bus knows how hard it is to hold a seat without getting into trouble. José, my best friend, whom I love very much, enters through the door and waves to me, and I smile, showing that his place is saved. But a woman, who looks about thirty-five years old, enters before him and looks intently at the seat beside me. We have a battle of eyes between me, the woman, José and the bench. She is in front, she will probably arrive before him, and José seems to be in a marathon, fighting with his wife for the seat. The prize will be the bench next to me.

Luckily for us, a young man with a knapsack on his back gets up and gives his place to the woman, who promptly accepts. The two of them seem to be acquaintances, for they start a conversation.

"Aff Diana, I almost lost my seat," José says, as he gives me a kiss on the cheek. "And I was going to have to stand the rest of the way."

"I'll tell you to stand at the front of the row," I reply.

"What line, you crazy woman?" asks José. "By the time the bus stops, it turns into a mess of people wanting to get on and off the vehicle," he points with his head. "The woman got through first."

"Good thing the guy got up and gave her a seat," I say to José.

"I think he's interested in her," Jose whispers. "This is the third time he's given her the seat, and these days I've been listening to the two of them talk."

"Aren't you ashamed of listening to the two of them talk?", I question.

"I'm not. Right now there's someone in here listening to our conversation," he gestures. "The worst is when you have to go downstairs and you can't hear all the way through."

"That's true, I get curious too," I agree.

"What day is your day off? They gave me Tuesday off, aff" - Jose complains.

"Mine's on Wednesday. I wish it was on the same day."

"I wanted to go to the pagoda, roll around a bit, but how can I go without you?

"You always go without me. I don't know why you're complaining."

"I go alone when I want to get some brunette, but this time I wanted you to go with me. You hardly ever go out."

"I don't have much money, Jose. My salary goes almost all to the house," I said to Jose.

"I know, my friend. But you know I can help you. I don't have much, but we can share mine," he replied.

"Jose, you don't have to. And I'm too tired to go out after work. Saturday seems to be the day I work the most," I explained to Jose.

José and I work at the Green Plaza Hotel, one of the most sophisticated hotels in São Paulo. This hotel hosts very important people from all over the world, including artists and celebrities who come to Brazil to visit or do shows, as well as renowned businessmen. Despite being a busy and tiring job, my salary helps a lot at home. Even with a few caveats, the work at the hotel is good, but the hours and the distance from my house make it a bit difficult.

"What's up with these people today? It's full of people out here," said José, observing the crowd in front of the hotel.

"Probably some celebrity is arriving. It's always like this when they stay here," I told him.

"I'm so curious to know who it is," I spoke to Jose, stretching my head to try and get a better look.

"I'm very curious too. Hopefully it's a really handsome man," he said, with a naughty grin on his face.

"I don't see any of them. I have so much work to do," I lamented. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to watch.

Our shift starts off hectic, with lots of people everywhere and a big rush. As usual, our boss shouts for us to change clothes quickly and run to the rooms to tidy them up, because the owner of the hotel will be in Brazil and everything must be in perfect condition. Off I go for another day of work. I put on my uniform, get my cleaning trolley and check my schedule to know on which floor I will be working today. Unfortunately, the penthouse is waiting for me. The hotel has two penthouses, and they are too big to be cleaned alone. So our manager always assigns two employees to clean the suites, and the work is divided up. Working in pairs is great when your partner is also working, but when she prefers to take photos as if she were a guest and completely forgets about work, that is Sirlene, my partner, and I am the other part that works harder.

According to my manager, we need to rush with the cleaning of this suite, as the almighty "boss of bosses" will be staying in it. And everything needs to be in perfect order when he arrives, as they say he is a very observant and demanding man. I cleaned the whole bathroom, scrubbed every corner and left everything smelling fresh and very clean for the hotel owner. And I thought my friend Sirlene was doing her part, which was to finish cleaning the suite, tidy up the bed and leave the bed linen well stretched, but Sirlene was taking pictures on the penthouse balcony.

"Sirlene, haven't you finished that part yet?"

"I'm taking a selfie for my social media, I don't know when I'll be back here again, I have to enjoy it. Or it could be that the owner of the hotel finds me beautiful, which is no lie, and invites me to stay with him."

Sirlene was a beautiful girl and drew a lot of attention throughout the hotel. Men were always wanting to ask her out, and her social network was very busy. I took a deep breath and ran to do what was missing, leaving her there doing her photos, since I couldn't lose my job. The wardrobe was the last part I cleaned. When I left, Sirlene was no longer there, nor was my cleaning cart. I had the broom in my hand and a cloth that I had taken to clean the furniture. I was all sweaty, because we couldn't turn on the air while we were cleaning the suites.

I ran the back of my hand over my face to wipe the sweat off and closed the wardrobe door. There was a clock on the little table that hadn't been there minutes ago, I was sure of it. Still on my back, I heard a noise and turned quickly. When I looked, a tall man was standing in front of me. I lifted my head until my eyes reached his. They were black eyes that stared at me, his well drawn face, well trimmed beard and straight black hair that fell across his forehead as he looked down and at me. The watch fell out of my hand and broke, and I couldn't believe what was happening.

"What are you doing here?" - he spoke Portuguese with a strange accent.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was just finishing cleaning out the wardrobe and ended up being late."

"Does that always happen? When guests come here, you stay inside the room breaking things?" - he was angry.

"No, sir. I just ended up getting lost in the schedule when I went to clean the wardrobe - and I was already wanting to cry."

"There can be no mistakes in my hotel and guests aren't here to find staff inside their rooms. No one wants to arrive here tired from a trip and find you here, understand?" - The hotel owner seemed to be the most rude guy I've ever met.

"Yes, I understand. I apologize. I can pay for the watch, I'll let my manager know. Excuse me."

"You're not leaving here." - I startled. "Do you know how much it costs? How is a chambermaid going to know the value of one of the watches in my collection, and one of the most expensive in the world?"

I paled and looked down. I could see his elegant shoes, probably Italian or from somewhere else in the world. His trousers were perfectly ironed, and his thick thighs caught my attention, as did the shards of glass in his watch. I closed my eyes and thought about how I was in trouble.