Grim reality of the male underclass

Paul rang the doorbell and waited. The door had frosted glass and after a few seconds he saw someone walking towards it, her outline blurred through the glass. She was speaking loudly into a phone and as she opened the door he heard her say, " Just a moment Jennifer." She then looked down at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised and said, "Yes???"

Paul looked up at the woman in front of him looking down. She was beautiful, as all acquaintances of Lucy were. Around 5'-8", early thirties and dressed in yoga pants and a matching sports bra, her dark hair tied back in a pony tail he guesses she had just come home from the gym. A sports bag in the hall appeared to confirm this. For a moment he was frozen as he always is when in the presence of a beautiful woman. Her quizzical look was now turning to one of mild annoyance at this small, ageing, dishevelled plain looking tubby man standing before her disturbing her day. He gave a weak smile and said, "Oh hi, sorry, I'm Paul."

She didn't return the smile but just said, "The cleaner??" As he nodded in agreement she snapped, " Follow me!" and without a backward glance walked away and continued her phone call, leaving him to close the door.
He followed the fast walking lady down the hall, through a living room and into a kitchen. As he walked through each room he noticed any mess and areas he knew he would soon be tasked with cleaning. He guessed all cleaners did this, they viewed everything in a house from a work aspect, which in a strange way heightened the feeling of inferiority.

He finally caught up with her in the large kitchen. She was sitting on a high stool at the dining table still talking on the phone. As he entered she waved a piece of paper at him which he took from her and began to read. In large letters at the top it said, Cleaning List. It was written in bullet point style and very detailed....and long! This was a lady used to organising and being in charge he mused as he read. Lots of parts underlined and often finished with exclamation marks.....and detail, so much detail. She was going to prove hard to serve.

He spent an uncomfortable couple of minutes after he had read the list just standing there as she carried on chatting and laughing on the phone like he didn't exist. It was a feeling he knew well. To women, particularly beautiful women like this he didn't exist in their world. Men like him were never lovers or even friends to such women, instead they were invisible. The underclass of men who looked on longingly as the beautiful enjoyed a life they wished to be part of but never could. Some came to this realisation early in life. Others had to endure years of rejection, ridicule and disappointment before the reality sunk in. They were outcasts, the unpopular, undatable and unlovable. The only reason women such as this engaged with an underclass male was if they could be of some use to them, often in a demeaning menial capacity such as Paul found himself in, that of a cleaner or similar.

Eventually she finished her phone call, took a sip of her drink and looked at him. Her gaze was frosty and disinterested, like she would look at a letter or an information notice. A gaze of looking at something she had to do out of necessity and then move on as quickly as possible to something more pleasant. When she spoke there was no warmth in her voice it was matter of fact, her tone authoritative and cold.

" Okay I take it you've read the cleaning list? It is very detailed as I'm a stickler in having things done just the way I like them, as you'll find out when working for me. You'll follow it to the letter is that understood?"
Paul lowered his head and nodded a mumbled " Yes."
This was the first time the woman's attitude changed. Her face flushed in anger and she banged her mug on the table making Paul jump in fear. When she spoke again her tone was angry and loud.

" Yes?? Yes?? It is yes Miss you imbecile! I will not stand for that slipshod attitude from ANY of my workers, never mind the bloody cleaner!"
She jumped off the stool and pushed him back against the wall, towering over his small frame as she continued her tirade.

" I will make things absolutely crystal clear so there's no misunderstanding. You're my cleaner. You turn up, follow my orders, clean and do any chores to MY high standards and satisfaction! I am not your friend, you are not my equal. I don't want to know your name, anything about your sad life, your interests, nothing! You only speak when spoken to and when you do you address me as Miss at all times. Any slipshod attitude or work from now on I will stamp down on so hard you'll wish you'd never been born! Do I make myself clear??" As she ended her rant she poked him hard in the chest.

He cowered before her and quickly replied, " Yes Miss perfectly clear!!"
She slowly backed away from him, still looking at him like something disgusting she had found under her shoe.

" Good!! I am going to take a bath now and relax upstairs. When you have finished cleaning down here, you come and inform me. I will then move downstairs and you can carry on up here. Oh and just so you're aware I will inspect and mark your work on every visit. Failings to meet my standards will be dealt with. Now get cracking!"

With that Paul watched her leave the room and walk upstairs without a backward glance. He stood for a second looking at the mess in the kitchen, the long list which meant hours of dirty tedious work ahead and tears rolled down his cheeks. This was the price he had to pay for being one of the underclass and it was a price he'd pay for the rest of his miserable life.