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2 YEARS CLEANING AN IT OFFICE, AND I'M STILL GOING NOWHERE 🧹 My name's Charlotte Hughes. I'm 22. I live in Manchester, Hulme area. I rent a room in an old Victorian house with three strangers. I work as a cleaner in an office building. A small IT company. One floor, glass walls, modern furniture. Inside it smells of coffee, ergonomic chairs, and other people's success. My shift starts at 8pm. I don't watch the clock to see when I finish. I just do my work. Wash, wipe, tidy up. Slowly. No rush. The main thing — that the employees come to a clean office in the morning. The office turns into a tip during the day. Mugs with dried-up coffee on the desks. Wrappers from sandwiches on the floor. Greasy fingerprints on keyboards. I come in with my trolley — mops, buckets, bin bags, cloths. Two years I've been here. Not because I want to. Because I haven't found anything better. £11.50 an hour. After tax — about £1,450 a month. Sounds okay? It's not. Room rent — £580 a month. Bills (gas, electric, water) — £100. Internet — £25. Council tax — £80 (my share, but my housemates never pay on time). Food — £280. I barely eat meat. Rice, pasta, veg, sometimes chicken. Bus to work and back — £60 (night fare is more expensive). Clothes — £30. Charity shops, Vinted. Medication — £15 (headache tablets, plasters for my back). Subscriptions — £15 (Netflix, I share it with a friend). Emergency fund — £50. Left over: about £215. Feels like £215 is money. It's not. Because that £215 covers everything I forgot. And everything that'll happen tomorrow. And tomorrow always happens. I've been living alone since I was 19. Since I left my parents. Didn't fall out with them. Just felt like I was suffocating. A small town in Lancashire. Everyone knows everyone. I wanted to breathe. Came to Manchester. Didn't know how to do anything. Got a cleaning job. Two years passed. I'm still here. In the evening I come home after work. Get on a packed bus. Look out the window. Manchester's all lit up. Expensive
