Yellow Tape

I was walking down the stair to the basement kitchen to monitor the alarm panel in shoe chef’s office. At the door, a long yellow caution tape was stretched to block the way. I stopped for a while to read the sign which clearly says “do not cross it”. I bend on to my knees and moved forward.
“Stop."
 Somebody shouted  from the back. I looked back and saw Abdillahi  standing at the ballroom doors. I stepped back and asked him why he was he shouting at me. I can read the sign and it was my decision if should go or stop there. Abdillahi came close to me and said,” brother don’t mind. I was just trying to help you. You know that Lilian crossed the barrier yesterday and what happen to her. She was removed from the schedule and the manager handed a letter of termination over her.”
My head reeled.
Lillian, a tiny little woman from Salvador was a bee clean employee. Last week when she came to the office for cleaning up, she asked how long I had been with the company. I told her “long enough.” She laughed and said ‘tell the year’.
"Two years” I said.
She was laughing ironically and told “I worked fifteen years in this company. This was a small company with a handful of employees. Most of them have left already and many new staffs show up every day. But for me every day is the same.”
 I asked many questions and she answered my every questions without any objection. She was fifty-five years old. Her husband left her when she was forty-two. One night, her husband came home drunk and fought with her for no reason. Next day, he apologized to her and said that he was fired from the job and could not feed her. She remained quiet like a rabbit in a hole.
Next day, her husband left the home. After two months,  her husband’s friend Haaji Ali told her that her husband was in Fort Mcmurry working in a camp.
Lillian could not speak English. She asked to the people she knew about a job. Everybody told her that it was hard to find a job without English. She went to the immigration settlement office and asked for help. They gave her some contact information where she could get the financial support. They advised her to enroll in the ESL class.
Next day, Lillian went to Alberta Works to talk about living aid from the government, but she could not talk to them due to the language barrier. As she was standing in a line for an hour at Alberta Works, a white lady approached to her and asked her name. Lilian could tell her name. When the lady noticed that Lillian could not talk English, she asked her about her first language. She said “Spanish”. The white lady offered her a chair next to the help desk and went inside. After a few minutes, she came with another lady about thirty five looked like Caribbean. She greeted Lillian in Spanish. Then Lillian told her story. The lady took her in to her office and read the documents she had. She assured her that she would apply for the financial aid to support her family for the short term until she finds the next job. She also asked her if she was interested for any training which could help her to find the job.
From next month, Lillian started getting five hundred from the government directly deposited into her bank account. She started going to the English class. Rohit was her language instructor. He used to work in an entertainment industry organizing the events. He knows a few contractors working in the large venue.
One day, he asked Lillian if she wanted to work as a cleaner in a stadium. Lillian was desperate for the job. She learnt to speak English even though in her accent. Rahul asked her to make a resume. She went to the settlement office and asked them to assist her in building her resume and cover letter. Next day,  she gave the application to Rahul who dropped her application to the Bee clean office and also talked personally with the hiring manager  Abdullah.
Next day, she received a call for interview. She never been interviewed before. She was nervous. She rode on the bus and head to the office. She was asked a few questions like her name and regular stuffs. She was asked to fill up the paperwork. She signed the paper where they asked to sign. She did not know what was written in the papers. The Manager congratulated her. She did not know why he congratulated her since she was not told that she passed the interview.
 From the next day, she started working under the supervision of Mellisa for the training. Since then she used to go home and sleep and come back to work. She had no adventure in her life. No vacations. With the the money she earned from the company she could hardly pay the bills.
The company she worked for was hub for the entertain in the city. She never understood what changes were made but she remembered that each time she had to work in a new office, had to clean new bathrooms. Nobody wanted to talk to her. Often staffs used to smile at her. She never knew why.

Since the day she started the job, she hardly took a few sick leaves. She remembered that one day in a couple of years ago, she slipped off the snow and had to go to the hospital. She stayed three days at home for the rest.
Abdillahi was right. I turned back and thanked him for reminding. But the face of Lilian hunted me for long. I went back to the office. Checked the camera if I could see the area under construction. In camera zone –8,  it displayed the main kitchen area. I checked the emails from the manager. There were two emails regarding the construction and the pass issued to the contractors. There was nobody at the moment. I came to know that there were stoves removed from their original place for annual clean up. There was a big vacuum machine in the Hall-D behind the kitchen. There wasn't  any immediate danger to get into the kitchen.
Around midnight, I received a call from Tyco company regarding the burglar alarm in the Basement. Immediately, I took the north elevator down to the Kitchen. There was a beer storage next to the shoe chef’s office. I entered the door and noticed the red light flashing on the focus panel. Some points were abnormal. I typed my password and reset. Then the Aram was silenced. When coming back to the desk, I passed through the kitchen again.
I stopped. There were only two girls working in the dish washing. They were both blacks. They hardly communicate in English. They often avoid the eye contact. A young black girl about 25 was ringing the dishes. I went closer to her. She didn't notice my footsteps because she had an ear buds in her ears. She was listening the music, probably the African music. I stopped by her and greeted, 'hello”.
She did not respond. I pated on her shoulder gently with my two fingers. She turned towards me and smiled. She wiped her finger and removed the ear phone. And said” hi””.
“How long you guys working?”
“There are a lot of dishes to finish before we go.”
“Are you a student?” I asked.
Yes, I go to Kings college for my nursing.”
"Why are you working here?”
She laughed, " hi- hi -hi."
After a while she said “what should I do? They don’t give a good job. I am not sure yet if I get the job in my field after completing my nursing, I have to work this job.”
I knew she was't lying. This is a situation of first-generation immigrants. Later, she told me that she had already Bachelors in nursing from back home. She said that her family moved to Canada in 2015. Now she has to do the basic course for the same subject. It was ridiculous. And another dark side of the study was the student loan. When they were offered a course, they tell them the success rate of the students100 percentage and job market over 95 percentage. But most of the time after completing the school, they were back to the earlier job sometimes,  even worse. They hopelessly keep applying for the job for a year then finally give up the hope.
I did not say anything. Her innocent smile hunted me like a shadow. I came to the office and started monitoring the cameras. There were only few people in the building since no events going on. A few building attendants were seen entering the building. Many of them were the cleaners. All the cleaning staffs were the blacks. Some of them were medical doctors back home and some others were teachers, accountants. All of them were educated and skilled in their field. But in Canada, their skill is packed all in their travel suitcases.
 Many of them worked in the night. They cleaned the toilets, mopped the floor, dusted  the offices, cleaned the glasses and go home in the morning. When day starts the white men and women would come with smiling faces, go to their offices and start chating with their friends and families. But they worked hard too. No kidding.
The afce of Lilian hunted me day and night. I had a true apathy to her.
"What did she get after working so many years in the company? How would she pay the bills? How could  she afford the expensive room rent? Did she find the another job? Who would offer her a job in this age?",  I monologued.
 My heart filled with apathy.
A new mail popped up on the screen. I opened the email and read. It was the email from the Manager about the changed role and responsibilities of the employees for the next year.
 “Why do they change the roles and responsibility every year?  Why should we check the fire extinguishers? Why should I log the everything which were not even important? ",  I banged the table in anger and left the office.
I was a fire marshal in Manilla. I did my master's degree in political science. Later I got the job in the National Fire Department of Philippines. It was a good job. But something was not right with our finance. My total income used to go for the grocery and kids' school fee. I had to send money to the family to support my mom and the youngest brother for his tuition fee.
One day,  I talked to my wife and we planned to look for the better opportunity. The same day, I met one of my friends Joan at the train station. He told me that he had applied for Canada. I never thought of Canada before. Most of my friends were in Australia. I went home, talked to my wife. Both of us open the computer and started searching about Canada. We read many good stuffs about Canada. The most focused was the social security. Then we both husband and wife went to an agent to get more information about Canada, application process and the application fee. The agent assured us that we can meet the merit system for FSW1 program. He asked us to book for IELTS exam. Then we collected some money for the application processing. I prepared for the exam. Everything was going well. Finally, we got the visa and we arrived Canada as a permanent resident. When we first time received the confirmation letter, we were thinking that we were the luckiest one.
The first year was super exciting for us in a new place with new people. Everyone was smiling, offering help, greeting"hi- hello." It was awesome.
When we started fighting with the hardships every day, we already started missing the homeland. We missed our family and friends.
There were a few people seen on the street. People were working some places or sleeping at home. Nobody had time to loiter around. Snow piled on the street in the winter.
When I first came here, I worked in the gas station. First few days,  I worked with a woman from Jamaica. She was black. I thought she was from Africa. I was thinking that the blacks were all from Africa. After a week, I started working by myself. The logo of the company was kangaroo that means the employee should have to jump to the pump like kangaroo to serve the customer. I had to clean the windshields and window glasses if  request by the customer. Sometimes, customers used to give a couple of dollars tips. The tip had a great value for me at that time because every dollar was immediately converted into Philippines peso.
One day a lady gave a quarter. I refused to take. But she insisted and said, ” keep it, you can buy a house with this money.”
I felt offended. But I put a smile on my face and accepted the tips. Some moments were happy and some were sad. Then I left the job and went to work for a store.
Working in Home Depo was easy at the beginning because everyone was helping me as a new staff. I was trained to operate the fork lifts. We used to move the stuffs from one ails to another. We had to pick stuffs from the shipping and receiving. After a month, the work was getting harder. I had to work myself. Driving the fork lift wasn't a fun game. We had to be extremely cautious. If we lost the balance, there was a chance of hurting ourself and others. I had to lift heavy loads with my hands sometimes. I was physically weak than others. On the other hand, I had never worked such physical works. After working three months I resigned from the job.
The day I left the job, I found myself more stressed and hopeless. Friends were talking about the depression and anxiety. However, I was always aware of it. To avoid depression, I always kept myself busy. I read books, go cycling or play with kids. But the problem was how to survive.
Then I applied for another job in the community service. As a support worker, I had to clean the houses of the clients, bath them, change the diapers of the disables. I had to do almost everything as a house maid, as a nurse.
Sometimes, clients used to have behaviours and dangerous to work alone. It was not a my type job definitely. Most of my friends were working in the same field. They were happy enough working with these companies because they could work a lot of extra hours. And also, they could sleep on the site. There were overnight sleeping shifts too. But I personally, did not like this kind of job. After working about six months, I joined this company as a Guest Experience Staff.After working for three months, I started working as communication agent. 
That night, my brain was reeling with different thought of Lilian. I checked her Facebook account. She had not updated her account for months. I was friend with her since December. She had only a few friends on her friends list. Last summer,  she went on vacation to Mexico with her friends and posted pictures on her Facebook. She had five likes. Among them I was one. It also reminded me that how many friends did she have?
Next day I went home. I was not happy, so my litter daughter asked me “dad why are you not playing with us?”
 I smiled and played with her. I could not share anything with her. They were very innocent. I thought if they were back home, they would have more friends. They would play with grandparents. They could play with the neighbor's children. I remember my childhood. I used to go my friend's house to play and spend whole day. My mom was never worried about me because she knew that I would get food.  I would be taken care by her neighbors. But here, my children are locked in the apartment. I never let them open the door. I didn’t know who was living next door. May be priest. May be a terrorist.
" Everything looks perfect if you can function as a machine. With your pay cheque you can pay the bills. You can purchase the grocery. You can take your kids to the swimming pool. You have owned a house you can pay the mortgage. But the day the pay cheque stops coming. You are cut off of everything. Nobody can survive without pay cheque", I monologued.
Next day, I went to the job. I read emails. The morning huddle had been cancelled. I asked Dindo, a safety coordinator of the organization, for the reason. He said,” Jeff is absent. Chris is in the training. So, they cancelled the huddle.” Later somebody told that Jeff was admitted in the hospital in emergency ward. Everyone was sad. I came to know that Jeff slipped at the door onto the ice and had his back bone broken.
Jeff was the event manager. He was white. His parents migrated from German. He was superior by nature always talked about the German  people. But he was born in Canada. He used to live with his girlfriend in a condo. He was smart and friendly. After a month, Jeff came to work on a wheelchair. "Life is very unpredictable." I said. " Nobody knows what awaits at the door. Roads are icy and slippery. They look like the roads for the sinners in the hell. Why people call this heaven. This is heaven for those who can offer an expensive car, buy a house with attached garage so that you don’t have to go out."
Days went so fast without a sound of whistle on the ear. One day after five months, I went to the Basils Center to volunteer. It was an organization feeding homeless people with the aid of charitable donors. My shift started at 9Am with three other volunteers. We helped in the kitchen. We cleaned up the tables and replaced the garbage bags. Around 10:30 AM, the flooding of the homeless people, most of them were drunk and high. I was busy in serving them the food. There was sufficient foods donated by the hotels and other food banks. We served them burger, hot dogs, pizzas, burritos, coffee and sodas.
At the far corner of the lounge, there was a woman shivering with cold almost hiding her face in the  rages. Two of the native men were standing close to her and asking if  she was okay. The most beautiful thing with these homeless people with different criminal background was to help other homeless people in need.
As I was passing by that way serving order to the men sitting on the corner table, I saw the half of her face. It triggered my nerve and I felt uneasy. When I returned to the counter, I remembered an image known to me in the past. I put the dishes at the sink and went back to the corner where the lady was sitting lowering her head almost on the knee.
“Madam madam! Are you okay?” I asked.
When she heard me she raised her head and looked at me. I was stunned. She looked at me with her cold, blank stone-like eyes. She did not speak a word. She was wearing a sweater suitable to the spring weather. Her shoes were damp and had no socks on.
“Madam, are you Lilian?” I asked.
She stared at me with wide eyes like the wells with no water. I stood like a statue in front of her and watched her fall on the ground.
I dialled 911.
 There were cars outside with red and blue flashing lights in five minutes. Two EMS staffs rolled her over the stretcher and loaded on the ambulance.
Three police officers entered the the lounge shortly after, interviewed with the manager, wrote notes on their notebooks and left.