The other hospital staff didn't know about his secret drinking sessions, but they had their suspicions. He would return to the first-floor hallway, eyes bloodshot and slurred speech. The other staff members would give him a wide berth, whispering about him behind his back. But he didn't care. He had to find his escape.
The housekeepers were a different story. Every payday, they were furious. They needed to clean the entire building before they could go home, and Mr. Smith's wet floor signs made their job even harder. They complained to the head nurse, but she simply told them to take the long way around. The signs were there for a reason, after all.
One day, however, the housekeepers had had enough. As Mr. Smith stepped outside to have his drink, they followed him, muttering angrily to each other. They watched as Mr. Smith unscrewed the cap of the whiskey bottle and took a deep swig.
"He's a disgrace," one of the housekeepers muttered.
"He doesn't even do his job right," another chimed in. “Nothing but an old drunk”. "Half the time, the floor isn't even wet."
That's when they got an idea. As Mr. Smith took another swig, they snatched the wet floor signs from where they were blocking the hallway and hid them. Then they started to scrub the already-clean floor, laughing quietly to each other.
As Mr. Smith walked back into the hallway, he didn't notice the signs were gone. He slipped and slid on the wet floor, cursing under his breath as he fell. The housekeepers watched, smugly, as he struggled to regain his footing.
But something funny happened as he stumbled along. His mouth wash bottle flew out of his hand and shattered against the wall, the sweet smell of cool mint mingling with the chemical scent of the hospital.
In that moment, Mr. Smith felt relief that it was only his mouth wash bottle that had broken. He was trying to sneak in a small swig, and it had backfired. He couldn't blame the housekeepers, really. He had been breaking the rules. But it was still frustrating to know that his small moment of indulgence was now over.
From then on, Mr. Smith ound other ways to treat himself on payday - maybe a slice of pie from the cafeteria or a cup of hot coffee. He knew better than to block the hallway again. And while the housekeepers still complained about him, he couldn't help but smile to himself - he knew he was a little more free than they would ever be.