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I had never been part of anything before…I had the resemblance of no one. I was represented as no one, and I sure didn’t have a place to fill in society. This was an opportunity of a life time, finally a place for me to be wanted. I stared down at what surely could end in disaster, but I had nothing to lose.

I was standing on the fourth floor of a rustic old building, south of Broadway St. in New York. I went to work everyday and after my tasks were completed, I would leave the premise. It wasn’t really like working a job, especially as low of a position I held in the corporation. It was a corrupt task, and I always found ways to work around it. I would come at 6pm and start my duties hoping to be out of the shit hole by midnight. I swept, I mopped, I brushed, I waxed, and my favorite duty-cleaning up after the pigs. But I did remain quiet around them, for they were the executives who were just being served dinner in the mess hall.  They were crazy, but kept to themselves. I was nothing to them, and they meant nothing to me. I had overheard them mentioning my name once before, but they were now tossing it up again. I inched my head little by little, until I was looking at all of them. Their eyes glistened in the dimly lit room. I scowled, but I received friendly responses in return. The whole time I worked there, the pigs didn’t acknowledge me once. But now…this “animal farm” wanted to be sensible. My eyes were locked on them, I would not turn away. But they wanted to talk. They wanted something from me. “What do you want?” I murmured. Hands raised to guide me over to the eating area. I could still smell faint scents of turkey from dinner that had escaped the enclosed platters. Their eyes gazed to the food and pointed to the trays. What were they trying to show me? I trudged over, my eyes aimed at the trays’ metallic color-reflecting in the faintly lit room. I scanned the surface, everything seemed to be normal. Perhaps I would look above. The thermometer happened to be coded with digits of money-not temperature. In a flash, my muscles contracted, I couldn’t help but to grin. These executives were just as corrupt as me. They wanted me part of their business, and I wanted in.

Their mission was to steal as much money in one night, with help from co-operants who worked in other floors of the building. Food would be slid by so easy without anyone acknowledging it. As I finished my duties, I would be in the hands of thousands of dollars, that rested in a part of the food trays. I would distribute the money evenly, but since I was the janitor, I would be the one with dirty hands. It would happen tomorrow night. In this manner, we would have enough time to prepare, but not enough time for enemies to be expecting anything. My state of mind intensified, this could be my chance to make something out of my life. Although, the consequences were high. Stealing from our own company could cost us big time, including legal trouble such as jail. Was my life worth giving up? I pushed forward, and decided I would be missed by no one. I would miss this opportunity myself if I didn’t go for it. If we were successful, I would not be who I was today…

At 6 pm I entered the building the next day, to assess my duties for the night. I walked in as normal, and made sure to make my presence known. I scuffed my husky jeans together in between my legs. My yellow cleaning basket creaked in the hallway down to the mess hall. One by one, the wheels vibrated over each tile, as I came closer to the cafe. My veins were showing, my pulse-through the roof. I would keep calm…I would take the trays as usual. I entered the premises and scanned the mess hall. All the pigs were in place as usual, chowing down on a bowl of chicken soup tonight. In the meantime I mopped, glancing up occasionally to check on their status. They seemed to enjoy their soup much more than usual, and there was good reason for it. At about 6:30 I agreed it was time, and turned in their location to take the trays. “Why thank you…sir.” I could be called sir all I want, but they wouldn’t actually mean it unless the job was done. I stabbed back, and announced, “tip please?” I mean, for all this hard work I would be doing, there was no reason I couldn’t be tipped. The pigs glanced at one another in awe. I would do what they asked, but I was also taking a stand for myself. The fattest pig ruffled around in his pocket, and pulled out a crinkled bill which had the resemblance of a 100. “I better get change…” he uttered. “Oh you will,” I smiled. I then grabbed the trays one by one, placed them on top of my yellow cart, and walked in the opposite direction. I could feel their eyes fixed on my back, behind me. I came to the sink room, and entered slowly, making sure the coast was clear. I would do it here-behind the kitchen in the sink room. In this way, I could exit the building from the back, and be out. I reached around to find the compartment, and in less than a second, I could feel the cloth. Even as a janitor, I probably knew more than the executives did. That money is not paper, but rather cloth-the feel is distinctive. My eyes gazed down at what looked to be 10000 dollars per stack. I threw the blessing into my yellow cart, which would never be recognized as a hiding spot. I then cleaned up the trays, and slowly stepped down the back exit. My duties were done, and whether or not I would actually give the pigs the money…well that’s up to you to figure out.