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Sweepers of the night know no 'morning' or 'evening' -- it's all a twilight zone of work By
Dusty Decker
Christmas Day, his vehicle got stuck in a snow bank and the persistent puppy with the naturally stubby tail found him. It was so small--a cross between a Dalmatian and a black Labrador-- that Glen Larsen could imagine it fitting into a tennis shoe. He took it home and appointed it two names. Omen, because for Larsen he was a Christmas omen and My Nerd because he thinks the dog has more intelligence than him. That dog, Omen MyNerd, became Larsen's friend. "I've got a dog that is very bright. This dog knows a lot of things that I don't know and he expects me to take him out for a ride about 8 or 9 o' clock every morning.I tell him no we're not goin' nowhere today I'm too tired, oh yes we are, he just won't leave me alone you know. He usually gets the best of me, so I gotta baby-sit him for a little while," Larsen laughs. When
asked if the night shift Age 41 with bristly whiskers, Glen smiles bashfully as he sits there in his baby blue work shirt. They go by first names, even with their bosses. Glen's eyes are tired. He's a larger guy without being overweight even though his T-shirt hangs out untucked. He knows that MyNerd is waiting anxiously. Glen is a facilities maintenance representative, or a custodial worker, at Utah State University. He works the midnight shift. Sometimes Glen gets two hours of sleep in the day, sometimes four. He calls it "sporadic." Sitting next to Glen is John Mayers. His eyes droop more, even though he sleeps for six or eight hours each day. He's 14 years older than Glen and he has six boys. He's built shorter and stockier and he talks with the slightest lisp, slipping his words out softly. His gray hair is neatly combed, even after working all night. He likes to work graveyard shifts. His wife works day shifts; she doesn't mind that he's gone through the night. "I even prefer graveyard over days," John says. He chuckles, "We have no other people here, we can get our work done quicker, we have no interruptions and it's just better for me. I like it that way, it's one of those things I haven't had a problem with." John is a coordinator over the special projects crew. It consists of him and two others. They clean floors from 11 p.m. until 8 a.m. Most people at 11 p.m. are going to bed or are already there. Others like John and Glen are just beginning their nightly work shift. Some facility employees--such as Blake Hatch, the scheduling coordinator for special events and athletics--work a broad range of hours that change every week. However, those who have spent an occasional night without sleep cannot agree on how it feels to work full-time graveyard shifts. For John and Glen it's not hard, but everyone feels the effects differently. Both men work for facilities in the Physical Plant at Utah State University. Do not call them janitors. They are specialists in what they do. Even though they scamper through buildings on campus every night, students and the daytime world are oblivious to their existence. These workers of the night devour the solitude of the empty campus like owls hunting mice. They relish their sense of freedom and dominate the void of campus. Thursday night, Glen stands in the parking lot behind the Physical Plant talking to a fellow crew member who won't be working with his crew tonight; he's needed on the other crew. Glen shuffles into the landscape building where Dean McPolin, the other crew member, waits for him. The smell of freshly cut grass drips from big green lawn mowers that have been seen roaring on the massive fields of campus. The machines sleep. Even though their third crew member is absent, Glen and Dean perform their routine naturally. Glen's wide broom glides through the large office, easing the dirt from the floor. Extremely short red hair on head and face and a small gold ball earring gives Dean McPolin the appearance of a seaman washing a deck. He stands 5 foot, 7 inches, maybe, he is 40 years old and he wears Levis with a blue and black plaid jacket. Bright blue-green gloves bulge from the jacket's front pocket. He's the toilet specialist according to Glen. He strides quickly to the receptacles and the sound of flushing toilets like an indecisive waterfall resounds through the building, almost vibrating the concrete floors. Glen and Dean clean eight to 14 small buildings, the ones that are tucked in odd little places on campus. Their first priority, always, is to disinfect the bathrooms, then empty the garbage, then mop or vacuum floors and then clean anything else that is noticeably dirty. Within a month, each assigned building has been cleaned from top to bottom. The men sidle to a cranky white van. They don't contest for driver's seat. Glen eases the vehicle into action and they slither to another end of campus to the Central Distribution and Postal Service Center. The van almost drives there itself. Going through the "authorized personnel only" doors the hum of computers greets the guests. The lights awaken the snoozing building. The room is the size of a two-car garage with some desks and a table where rubber bands lie disjointedly. On the back wall a portrait of each employee of the mailroom hangs evenly and one can almost see the people busily in action, shuffling letters and packages, speaking across the room directing envelopes. Glen and Dean form a game plan and they break for battle. Dean scuttles to the bathrooms. He started working for the Physical Plant on Nov. 15, 1999. His eyes take on a serious gaze as he sprays the disinfectant solution. Dean is divorced; he has a 15-year-old son whom he sees every chance he gets. When asked if the night shift goes by fast he responds, "mmmmyaAaa." He's happy if he sleeps for four hours straight in a day, but that does not usually happen. He explains, "Weekends mess you up. . . . Sunday night is like a living nightmare." Daytime workers take weekends for granted. Dean usually sleeps little on Friday, but ends up crashing around 7 p.m. His Saturdays are normal and on Sunday nights he has to be ready to go back to work. This intruding swap of sleeping patterns on weekends can be uncomfortable, at least for Dean. Just after 1 a.m. they find themselves in the W.W. Lumberg Building. A huge architectural classroom, half the size of a tennis court, encompasses most the space. It contains white desks that are double the size of normal classroom desks. They are slanted at 35 degrees and lined up in two rows opposite running the length of the room. The high ceiling and interior is painted all white. A huge black and yellow sign reads "dangerous--minds at work." Tables, desks and the floor support paints, odd materials, markers and paper. The room is a collage of bits and pieces of personality scattered like crumbs for a mouse. Dean and Glen do not register what is meant by saying "this morning" or "tonight" or "tomorrow" or "yesterday." It all meshes into a single night shift tackled one day--or is it one night--at a time? They will have lunch around 4:30 a.m. After that they work as a roving crew, helping the daytime custodial workers that come from 4 a.m. to midnight. While Glen and crew clean the small buildings and work with the daytime custodians, another midnight crew tramples through campus rarely crossing the other crew's path. Wednesday, a different week, 11 p.m.--John meets up with his crew, they belong to him for eight hours, they belong to the night. Robert Hearn and Shane Scamahorn materialize from the darkness. They are a special projects crew. They clean, scrub and refinish floors. Robert and Shane's ages almost equal John's 55 years. He does not look old or tired tonight. It's time to work. He's been at USU's Physical Plant for 24 years. He worked 13 of them on the midnight shift. In 1972 he moved from Oregon to Logan. He has charge of his crew, with his neatly combed, gray hair and occasional smile. They drive a large truck to transport their equipment. Shane comes to life after a caffeine stop at the gas station. He bounces his youth in every other step. His face beams like a kid who is on his way out to play with friends. A ball cap stifles brown hair and giggles and his loose blue jeans go beyond comfortable. They are a part of him. Shane has two children, a boy and girl. He is married and is 27 years old. He likes his job and has been there 18 months. He likes going from building to building. He came from Washington state and has taken some classes at USU, but not this semester. He's roughly 5 feet 8 inches and the big grin that remains constantly on his face makes it hard for Robert to tell when he is serious or joking. Sometimes Shane relays messages from John but Robert can't always trust him. They halt at their destination for the night, the Space Dynamic Laboratory-a high-tech, high-security building. They've been here for a couple of nights. They will be here tomorrow. They meet a young man outside who lets them into the building. One time, they set off the alarm. They don't want to do it again, because it brings the police, causing a disturbance and slowing down their work. Tonight, work will be on a square-tiled, white floor hallway. It's about half of a neighborhood block long and 8 feet wide. After getting passed the security-coded door, they enter the building and scurry around unevenly to gather minimal equipment from a custodial closet. Shane finds a place for his caffeine drink in the closet and gathers the mops and buckets for later. The energy builds as they shuffle their feet and pass joke-smiles to each other. They are smirking about who will have to do what, but ironically they will end up doing the same thing together. It's a battle of who can be unaffected by the other's taunting and teasing. Balding with a goatee and mustache, Robert claims his 25 years, pointedly. Married for one year, he likes to work on old cars and figure out things for himself. His maturity exceeds Shane's, but he has no kids. Robert's height, 1 to 2 inches less than Shane, doesn't make him seem younger. He has lighter brown hair, full cheeks and a down-to-earth smile. He has worked for the Physical Plant for six years and this job for four of them. The scrubber machine, prepared and pampered by John--who even lies on the floor to ensure that Shane has fit the 1.5 foot round brushes on properly--becomes the center of attention. This dark gray machine, like a refrigerator box lying on its side, reaches John's chest and extends out about 5 feet. To maneuver it he leans into it like an exhausted mother leaning into her shopping cart at a grocery store. At the bottom end, near his feet a plastic scraper pushes along excess rinse-free stripper. Near the top are the control switches. The machine pulls itself and John can adjust the speed. When he pulls a bar up to the handles the machine moves and releases the liquid, he can control how much it drops. Robert fills it with water from a hose from a bathroom in the hallway. John pours in the condensed rinse-free stripper from a 5 gallon bucket. This will remove any finish and wax from the white hallway. First Robert and Shane use the mops to wet the floor. They glide the mops, proceeding down the white hall. Next John begins his trek three or four times back and forth with Robert and Shane following him with long-handled tools they call doodlebugs. The tools have a course, spongy, flat bottom that is an inch thick and 4 inches by 12 inches surface area. They use these tools to push the liquid into the edges of the hallway and into the corners. Robert and Shane relax their motions behind John. He coaxes the machine with natural ease. They don't interfere with John's work unless it's necessary and they respect the art of guiding it. Shane drops the goofy smile for two seconds and pointedly states, "It's his baby." The scrubber, almost designed for John, expounds a soft humming, like a muffled vacuum. These men ease into their routine. They like being in different buildings. The Space Dynamic Laboratory provides an atmosphere of intrigue with its hard, white floors and lofty non-personal ceilings. There is the sense of intelligence and secrecy, even in the hall. The building has a scientific personality. Regardless of where they work, they joke, they have fun. John even has his moments of humor. He says, "We get along. We can probably have a little bit more fun too, you know, we can tease each other and do stuff like that. . . . You work together as a team." Robert and Shane rarely undermine their boss and when they do it's usually to get a smile or a scowl from him. They go back and forth down the hall with the rinse-free stripper. The floor becomes slippery, but John travels it with ease; they all do. It becomes a glossy wet surface like a hockey ZamBoni resurfacing the ice sheet between periods. Then they wait for 10 minutes while it sets. They work hard but their job appears laid back. They always have to wait for things to dry. While waiting, they sit in an open casual room with tables and chairs for eating. There are live trees there that drop leaves on the floor. The hard inhuman room echoes Robert and Shane's chatter. They will go over the hall again and again if necessary until all the wax and finish is gone. Sometimes one of them has a deck of cards. Tonight, cardless, Shane takes to cleaning the small, square table where they sit with paper towels from the bathroom. He can't remain still. Shane handles graveyards OK. He usually sleeps about four hours each day. He never sleeps much more because there is always something to do. Robert knows he is a night person. He sleeps for four or five hours. His wife works nights too, but she doesn't share his enthusiasm for them. He said that maybe it's because her job is in an assembly line. When they forget something from the physical plant, it's a toss-up over who gets to drive and retrieve it. As Robert, after being told by John to get the needed supply, heads for the door, Shane runs up to him and says, "John told me to go." His face almost doesn't lie, as he looks Robert in the eyes. Robert hesitates, until he realizes that Shane is stealthier than a pesty raccoon. He then grips the keys tighter and laughs, leaving Shane to continue mopping. When the finish is gone, they will rinse off the rinse-free stripper and then mop up the excess. When it is all dry, they will put on new finish and new wax. That is their job. They like it. Robert explains how "John always told us to take pride in our work." They like to see the floor when it's all done. The completeness of this work gives satisfaction. That special projects crew, John, Robert and Shane, and the custodial nightshift crew Glen and Dean resurrect buildings on campus at night. They drift into different rooms with the night winds and blow out again before morning. They walk the halls and stairways; they are workers of the night. With varying circumstances, lives and personalities, they form common bonds. When complimented on their work, they beam to know that someone noticed. Other facility employees work the late hours. Some work a haphazard schedule of days, evenings and nights with no regularity. Consider the football stadium with massive rows, and the Spectrum where basketball teams score big games and concerts resound off the nets. Who cleans them after a game, or performance? Who whisks away the cups half-full of Pepsi and the discarded Snicker's wrappers? At one time workers like Glen and Dean used to clean these large areas, but it took away from their other buildings so a new plan was devised. Blake Hatch sits comfortably in his office on the second floor of the Spectrum. His title, scheduling coordinator for special events and athletics, is a job that occupies a lot of time but allows a lot of freedom. Blake is the event manager for each event scheduled in the football stadium, Spectrum and the Stan Laub Facility. He schedules the event, such as a concert, by drawing up a contract and getting the signatures required. When the actual event takes place, he is there two to four hours before it and several hours after overseeing the cleaning and locking of the building. Blake explained, "There's no way I could work just 40 hours, no way, so I work more than 40 hours during the school year and then I take off more during the summer." To clean the stadium or Spectrum, Hatch contracts large groups to come in and clean during the night. He has to have a minimum of 25 people for the gym and a minimum of 40 for the stadium. Blake has been working for facilities for six years. He is 36, married and has four children. He has held his current position for 1.5 years. He likes his job despite the irregular hours. Some events cause him to work long nights. Concerts take a long time. "Indigo Girls [last year] was terrible, I worked 23 1/2 hours straight" he laughs. There was a lot of garbage to pick up and it took that long to get it all cleaned. This job has affected his health, as he has had two spinal surgeries and he gets bad migraines. "I have to be really, really careful that I get my sleep," he said. Next semester will be harder because he plans to take some classes at the university. To clean the stadium, a routine procedure must be followed. Usually Blake contracts that with the LDS church ward groups, because it can supply him with more than enough people. When an event is over, the contracted individuals or group meet him and he gives directions. He supervises and makes sure they are doing what they're supposed to. They work for 2.5 hours at the most. Everybody gets latex gloves on and picks up garbage. They set drinks on the stairways and others with gallon buckets pour out all the drinks into the sinks. With a large church group it goes pretty fast even though children of various ages scamper up and down aisles probably knocking over an occasional flat, warm root beer. Those with brooms, sweep the whole stadium except for the bowl area. For that they use two to three blowers to blow the garbage on each side, and then they pick it up. Cleaning the Spectrum is similar except they also have to mop up spills. Blake then drives his truck around and gathers the garbage and takes it to Dumpsters. He does a final walk through to make sure it's clean. The Spectrum and the other building are contracted to smaller sports teams like volleyball, softball and soccer. Blake said, "And after everybody is gone then I make sure that the press boxes are locked up and the gates are locked up and the locker rooms are locked up and all that and then I go home." Blake doesn't always know how long it will take but he can estimate depending on the event, the audience or what team is being played. If it's college kids, it's going to be cleaner. "If it's older people that have children then there's Cheerios everywhere, there's milk spilled there's Kool-Aid spilled." Probably the worst thing he has seen is dirty diapers and when children are in the audience there seems to be an abundance of them. Or, "It depends on which college we're playing--you can count on Boise State if they're sending down lots of people it's going to be UGGGLY," Blake said. One advantage Blake has with his job is that he sees his family more than other full time workers. Sometimes his two oldest boys even help him clean. He likes that and it makes his erratic hours worth it. He also enjoys being the liaison between groups. "I love to try to put things together. . . be right in the middle of it, that is what I enjoy." Blake, like John, Glen and crews, works a job that a lot people overlook. They might be unnoticed at times, but they are essential. If Glen and Dean didn't clean the small, almost forgotten buildings, like the Landscape building and the Central Distribution Office then they would not get cleaned at all. Also a job like John's can only be done at night when there aren't lots of students matting and scuffing floors and hallways. They like their job. John said, "That's probably another good reason for graveyard, is because when you get done with it, you can see it. But if you're working days it can get messed up real quick after class breaks. You can really appreciate what you've done when you've gone in and scrubbed a floor and waxed it and see it all done. I take a pride in that." For these men working at night is acceptable and preferable and the advantages go beyond any desire to work a normal 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. day shift. When it comes down to it, Glen simply stated, "I quite enjoy my job" and others never failed to point out that there's never a problem with finding a place to park.
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Archived Months:
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