The Custodian Chronicles

 Join host Lisa Hill as she gives the spotlight to the unsung heroes of every school — the custodians. And these are not your average mop-and-bucket stories. From the custodian who secretly slept in the building like it was a low-budget Airbnb to the singing custodian who turned staff professional development into a surprise musical performance , and more, listen in and get laughing and learning!

Realtor Janae Griffith
Janae Griffith has 19 years experience in buying and selling homes in Central Iowa.

Wee's Tees
Custom prints done right—Wee’s Tees brings your vision to life on and off the field.

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.

Vice Principal UnOfficed website has moved! Boomark my new site: https://viceprincipalunofficed.com/

Email me: vpunofficed@gmail.com

Check out photos from each Vice Principal UnOfficed episode at:

• Instagram
• Facebook

Resources used for Vice Principal UnOfficed can be found here.

Thanks for listening!

#KeepLaughing&Learning

Chapters

• 0:37 Sponsor Messages
• 1:41 Spotlight On School Custodians
• 3:56 December Party Season And Cleanup
• 6:59 Why Custodians Feel Invisible
• 10:51 Rest Stop Rick And The Office Couch
• 13:25 Laundry Lou’s Loading Dock Camp
• 16:20 The Mop, The Hands, And The Cafeteria
• 20:27 Ballot Box Bob Runs And Wins
• 23:12 Thirty Thousand Sandwich Bags
• 26:02 The Pencil Date Test
• 28:14 Wrap-Up, Tease, And Listener CTA

Transcript

SPEAKER_01: 0:18

Vice Principal in Office is brought to you with support from our sponsors. Looking for a home in the Greater Des Moines area? With over 19 years in the real estate business, Janae Griffith has the expertise and dedication to help you find that special place to call home. The kind of home where you can drop your bags, exhale, and say, Yes, this is mine. Whether you're buying or selling, Janae Griffith is making it the home for you. Visit Janae. That's J-A-N-A-E at janae Griffith.com to get started. Looking for custom team gear or standout promo apparel? Wheeze Tease is your one-stop shop for high-quality, high-impact prints. Based in Ankone, Iowa, Wheeze Tease provides dependable in-house service from screen printing to DTF transfers to heat press work. All done with a passion for precision. Wheeze Tease turns your ideas into gear that performs on and off the field. So head to Wheez Tease and customize your apparel for your grind, your game, and your glory. Get started today at Wheeze Tease.com. On this episode of Vice Principal on Office, join me, your host, Lisa Hill, as I give the spotlight to the unsung heroes of everyday school, the custodians. And these are not your average mop and bucket stories. From the custodian who secretly slept in the building like it was a low-budget Airbnb, to the singing custodian who turned staff professional development into a surprise musical performance. And more, it's time to get laughing and learning. Attention students, I mean listeners. The stories in this podcast are told from the host's personal and farcical point of view. All names and identifiers have been omitted or altered to protect identities. Now get to class and enjoy the show. Okay, tumble, into the final stretch of 2025. But before we get too far into today's episode, I want to give a shout out to my friend and former colleague Adam Bush. I was his weeklong guest on his educational podcast, Your Morning Boost, the week of November 17th, if you want to check it out. And I have to say I had a blast. Adam's podcast is definitely worth listening to. Or you can watch his podcast on YouTube. Your morning boost provides school leaders practical advice along with a little inspiration of how to better lead K-12 schools. And as you can tell from many of my crazy stories, getting through a school year can be a major feat for some school leaders. So, school leaders, you want to be school leaders, and educators all around. Tune into Adam Bush's podcast. I promise you'll be glad you did. Your moaning boost can be found on your favorite podcast platform. Now, wait, okay, where was I? Oh yeah. December is here. And with December comes one universal truth in public education. Classroom party season. Sure, we don't technically celebrate actual holidays in public schools anymore. Well, schools do celebrate a few by not having school on those special days. But let's be honest, schools will always find a way to celebrate something. And they should. It's been pedal to the metal since August, or September if you're lucky. Students and teachers need a moment to breathe, laugh, and gather round trays of store bought sugar. But ask any school custodian, and they'll tell you the same thing. Party season is when their workload doubles easily. The good old school custodian out there sweeping up half eaten little dubby snacks, peeling rogue decorations off the floor, and as anyone who has attended public school knows, tending to that one kid who went a little too hard on the cupcakes, candy canes, games, and unregulated December energy. And if you think hard enough, you can probably still smell that sweet but bitter scent of the vomit absorbent the custodian sprinkles over the mess, silently praying no other classmate decides to join in. And that's before we even get to the winter programs. The band concerts, choir concerts, and the annual third grade holiday play starring 30, sweaty, overly enthusiastic nine-year-olds. I don't know who's worse when it comes to cleanup events, the kids, the teachers, or the parents. Truly, it's it's a toss-up. Meanwhile, your reliable school custodian is standing quietly in the wings, waiting, watching the glitter settle, just biding their time until that last person finally leaves so they can go to work. And that's why today's episode is dedicated to those unsung heroes, the custodians, who keep our buildings functioning, swoop in after the chaos, and complain only a little, which honestly is completely justified. But for every great custodian out there, there are also a few who provide pure entertainment for the rest of us. Which leads me to my first tale about school custodians. One of the most entertaining custodians I ever worked with was exactly that. Entertaining. Every August, like clockwork, our head custodian, well let's call him Mr. Fixit, would kick off the school year by having his rock band perform for staff professional development. Teachers cheered, paras clapped, and Mr. Fixit absolutely shredded like he was headlining a summer festival instead of an unair-conditioned middle school gym full of teachers. And while I appreciate the enthusiasm, I always found it a little odd that the person tasked with unclogging toilets and mopping up cafeteria mysteries was also responsible for inspiring the staff for the year ahead. I mean, I've been in this public education thing for a long time. And I can confidently say this was the only time I've seen district leadership decide, you know who should be our keynote speaker? The custodian with the guitar. Most districts scrape together some money and hire a real motivational speaker. Someone with a book deal, a lanyard, and a slide full of stock photos. But not this district. Nope. We got a Bruce Springsteen wannabe who used the same red bandana to wipe sweat off his face that he later used while cleaning the cafeteria. And in case you're wondering, Mr. Fixit's band wasn't half bad. Honestly, his performance set the tone for the whole school year. Loud, a little chaotic, and committed to rocking it out no matter what. Which is why I've titled this episode, The Custodian Chronicles. Because many of my experiences with the school custodians were so unusual that I had to start keeping track of their stories. Of course, I really wanted to call this episode only in a public school you find custodians who spend more time doing everything but cleaning because cleaning is boring, but rocking out, sneaking a drink on the job, and occasionally taking a nap are much more fun. And by the time I get to the end of this episode, you too will be saying, You just can't make this shit up. To which my mom and co-host will reply, Lisa Anne. Sorry, Mom, but I'm going to guess that some school custodians do crazy things simply because well they can. Seriously. Most people go to work, work, and they're say hello, silently nod, or completely ignore the custodian altogether. Think about it. How often do you see colleagues walk right past the custodian without a word? How many people don't even know the custodian's actual name? And how rarely do we hear someone thank them for keeping the building clean? If I felt that invisible, I might take a nap on the job too. Then again, maybe some custodians like having a job where no one talks to them. They can just do their thing, keep the school running, and move on with their day. But when you combine that level of being unnoticed with the occasional bottle of Jack Daniels showing up where it shouldn't, well, a midshift nap starts to make a lot more sense. Which brings me to another strange custodian caper. I once worked in a school with a night custodian who occasionally hit the bottle between cleaning classrooms. One early evening, old Restop Rick was making his way through the music wing. Every so often, he'd pause, pull out his flask, and take a sip. Now, whether Rick was trying to stay warm, soothe his plantar fasciitis, or just pregame warmup for whatever he had planned for after work, one thing was for sure. He took one too many sips. When the principal finally wrapped up his day, he walked through the music area to check why the lights were still on. He found something he was not expecting. Rest stop, Rick, sound asleep on my friend Lynn's office couch. You remember Lynn? My partner in crime who could find humor in just about anything our school day threw at us? Anyway, the principal absolutely panicked. He called Lynn, convinced that the Jack Daniels chugging custodian had stashed a fift somewhere in her office. But here's the thing. If you know Lynn like I know Lynn, you'd know she'd have zero idea whether or not Rasstop Rick was running a secret bar out of her office. And she definitely wasn't answering her phone because she was out of town at her father's funeral. So what did the panicked principal do? He called me. And then I called Lynn, who was literally standing at her father's visitation. Now why she took my call? Of course she would take my call. Anyway, when I told her what our franic principal had discovered and that he insisted I get a hold of her, she burst out laughing. And so did I. And it wasn't long after that Jack Daniels fueled evening that Rest Stop Rick got a much longer rest. You know, every school has at least one custodian whose personal life somehow becomes part of the building. And at least one of the schools where I worked, that custodian was a man we'll call Laundry Lou. Lou was a friendly guy, quiet, hard working, always willing to move a desk or fix a wobbly chair. But one afternoon, I headed out to the loading dock to grab a push broom, and that's when I saw it. A full-sized army cot set up in the corner, like someone had turned the loading dock into their own personal campsite. Pillow, blanket, boot stuck neatly underneath. This wasn't a quick break. This was a residence. And that wasn't even the strangest part. Later I spotted Lou loading the school's industrial washing machine with what looked like his entire wardrobe jeans, t-shirts, socks, everything you'd expect in a weekend laundry load, but definitely not the school's washing station. Eventually, the truth came out. Lou's wife had kicked him out, and instead of staying with friends, calling family, or grabbing a cheap motel, he chose the one place he knew was warm, quiet, familiar, and free. The school. In Lou's mind, this made perfect sense. Honestly, the determination he had settling into that loading dock gave off a big rootie energy. You remember that movie. It's one I always tune into every time it's on TV. The Lou's situation was minus the triumphant football moment and far more questionable living arrangement. Of course, the district office saw Lou's little loading dock campsite a bit differently. It didn't take long before he was gently but firmly told he needed to find another place to live and fast. Which makes me think of another quirky custodian story. As I've shared in previous episodes, I always tried to befriend the school custodian. It is a thankless job, and no school could function without them. Truly, schools would collapse within 48 hours if school custodians went on strike. But I have to admit, some of the choices school custodians made in the name of keeping things clean really made me question their career decisions, or at least their definition of the word clean. Take one custodian in particular, a tiny, cheerful little soul who took their job very seriously. This custodian approached cleaning like it was a calling. Not only did they take pride in keeping the school tidy, they also took pride in forming relationships with teachers and students. They knew everyone's name, asked about kids' weekends, and could tell you exactly which third grader had the stickiest hands based on the fingerprints left on the door frames. But the actual cleanliness of things, well, that was sometimes up for debate. One day, I was heading down to my least favorite part of the day, lunch duty, and I remember walking into the cafeteria, mentally preparing myself for the smell of chicken nuggets, spilled milk, and middle school hormones when something caught my eye. There, perched on the top of a mop bucket like it was a throne, sat our tiny custodian. And they were, wait for it, peeling the strands of the mop apart with their bare hands, slowly, methodically, like they were grooming a pet or foraging for berries in the woods. Every so often, they'd stop, inspect the mop string, and then go right back to peeling. Now, that alone wasn't gross enough, but it got worse. Yes, much, much worse. When the tiny little custodian was done peeling the mop like it was a piece of string cheese, they hopped off the bucket, wiped their hands on their pants twice, yes, twice, and then walked over to the cleaning station. Did they wash their hands? No. Did they grab gloves? Nope. Did they even look in the direction of soap? Absolutely not. Instead, the little custodian picked up a cleaning rag, one that had probably survived multiple school years. And they immediately started wiping down every cafeteria table in preparation for the next lunch shift. Left to right, up and down, a full sweep of mop juice hands across every eating surface in the room. I stood there speechless, watching the whole thing like it was a slow-motion safety training video titled What Not to Do in a School Cafeteria. Teachers walked by completely unaware. Kids lined up with trays ready for round two of corn dogs and chocolate milk. And there I was, having a full existential crisis about public school sanitation. I don't think I ever ate another school lunch again after that. Not a single one. Not even on walking taco day. Especially after remembering this custodian who cleaned the toilets also helped clean the school kitchen. The kitchen, the place where food was prepared for hundreds of children and teachers. And that, my friends, was the moment I realized that sometimes the school custodians who work the hardest also managed to terrify you just a little. And no, this one didn't involve Jack Daniels, an army cot or a cafeteria table. This one involved local politics. It was at another school where I worked. We had a custodian. Let's call him Ballot Box Bob. Bob was a quiet guy, friendly enough, kept to himself, always nodded politely in the hallway. But he had one little issue. He did not get along with the principal. And when I say he did not get along, I mean oil and water, cats and baths, teachers and copiers, level type of tension. No one really knew how the feud started. Some said it began when the principal told Bob he couldn't store his fishing equipment in the custodial closet. Others swore it had something to do with a mysterious incident involving a snowblower, a squirrel, and a missing extension cord. Whatever the origin of the story, one thing was clear. These two weren't going to be carpooling to the staff development anytime soon. But here's where it gets interesting. One fall, the school district sent out the usual notice. School board elections were coming up. Most people toss those flyers straight into the recycling bin, but not ballot box Bob. Oh no. Bob had a sparkle in his eye and a purpose in his step. And before anyone could figure out what was going on, Bob announced he was running for the school board. At first the teachers thought it was a joke. Bob barely spoke during the school day. How was he going to debate school finance? But Bob wasn't joking. He had a plan. A mission. A quest, if you will. And then came the twist none of us saw coming. He won the election. Ballot Box Bob didn't just put his name on the ballot, he actually got voted in. Suddenly, the same custodian who spent his evening sweeping the halls was now sitting on the school board. The very group responsible for evaluating district policies, approving budgets, and yes, overseeing the performance of the administrators, including the principal Bob had been feuding with. And let me tell you, once Bob was in that boardroom, he sat up a little straighter, he took notes, he asked questions, and every time the principal stood up to give a report, you could practically hear Bob thinking, remember when you told me to reorganize the custodial supply room? Yeah, the tables have turned, buddy. Now, Bob never abused his power. He wasn't out for the blood of everyone. But there was absolutely a glimmer of satisfaction every time he said, I have a question for the principal. And honestly, I couldn't even blame him. Because sometimes revenge is loud and chaotic. And sometimes it's running for school board, winning by 37 votes, and sitting at the board table with the confidence of a man who now controlled the agenda. That, my friends, was Ballot Box Bob. I've worked with plenty of custodians who made questionable choices, but none quite as memorable as our head custodian who managed to turn a simple supply order into a district wide comedy show. A few times a year, it was the custodian's job to order vacuum bags from the district operations office. Simple enough, right? Click a box, check a code, send it off. But one month, something went very, very wrong. Instead of vacuum bags, our school received thirty thousand sandwich bags. Thirty thousand. Not the zipper kind. Nope. Those flimsy little foldover sandwich bags you put a sad ham and cheese in. Cases and cases of them showed up on the loading dock like we were preparing to cater lunches for the entire Midwest. The poor custodian stood there staring at the mountains of sandwich bags like they had personally insulted him. Finally, completely defeated, he called the district operations office to straighten things out. The custodian admitted that he had made a mistake with his order and fully expected the operations office to correct it. Instead, they insisted the order was accurate. According to their system, he hadn't ordered vacuum bags at all. He had ordered sandwich bags. And not just a few, but 30,000 of them. No matter how many times the custodian tried to explain the mix-up, the district operations office refused to budge. In their eyes, he had received exactly what he asked for. And that was that the District Operations Office refused to take those damn sandwich bags back, arguing that the custodian had ordered exactly what he asked for. As if he planned to clean the entire school by stuffing debris into tiny sandwich sacks. I found the whole situation downright amusing. I'm not sure our principal shared the same sentiment because we ended up having to pay for all 30,000 of those sandwich bags. To this day, every time I see a box of foldover sandwich bags, I think of that custodian standing on the loading dock, knee deep in plastic, silently regretting whatever keystroke led to the greatest supply ordering disaster in school history. Now, as I mentioned earlier, for every great school custodian, there were always a few who avoided doing actual work at all costs. And I seemed to find at least one in every building I worked in. So to entertain myself during their long stretches of custodial inactivity, I came up with a little game. I'd take a pencil and write the date. Tiny, barely noticeable, near whatever needed to be fixed, cleaned, or replaced. Then I'd wait. And let me tell you, some of those dates sat untouched for months, even years. Hell, maybe some of those dated jobs are still sitting there waiting to be fixed, cleaned, or replaced today. But why did these custodians do this? I truly couldn't tell you. You'd think it would take more energy to avoid the task than just do it. But some custodians could generate an Olympic level list of reasons why they couldn't complete even the simplest job. And yet, for every master of avoidance, there were the others who became legends for entirely different reasons. Story so memorable they practically wrote themselves. We've met quite the cast of custodial characters. The rock band ready head custodian who opened the schoolyear like he was launching a national wide tour. Restoprick, who turned the music office couch into his personal nap suite after one too many liquid intermissions. Laundry Lou, who built an army cot bachelor pad on the loading dock and treated the school's industrial washer like his own laundroman. And of course there's ballot box Bob, who got himself elected to the school board just to keep a watchful eye on the principal. And I'll never forget the tiny little custodian who lovingly peeled mop strands by hand before wiping down cafeteria tables with those same unwashed fingers. And of course we can't forget the supply ordering fiasco heard round the school, where vacuum bags magically became thirty thousand sandwich bags. Together, these people created a collection of custodial tales that were equal parts unbelievable, wildly entertaining, and absolutely unforgettable, reminding us that the people who keep schools clean often have the messiest, most memorable stories. Well, kids, the dismissal bell is ringing. So until next time on Vice Principal and Office, push in your chair, put your name on your paper, be kind to your classmates, put your phone away, and use your indoor voice. Or not, thanks for listening. And I hope you enjoyed the tales from Vice Principal and Office as much as I enjoyed sharing them. And it is also my hope that you were not only entertained by this episode, but that you walked away with a little nugget of knowledge that gave you some insight on how working in a school is not for the faint of heart. And as I've said before, life is short, so you gotta do the best you can to leave the world in a better place than when you got here. And of course, for the love of Of God see the humor in life. It's a lot more fun and a little easier to get through the ickin life with a smile on your face. Catch you next time on Vice Principal in Office. Next time on Vice Principal in Office, join me, your host Lisa Hill, on December 16th, as I share stories about some of the strange, surprising, and downright baffling things adults do. Because while the kids may get a little wild, it's the grown-ups you really have to watch. Plus, every story proves the same truth. Fact is always stranger than fiction. So tune in December 16th for The Adults Did What? Hey students, I mean listeners. Thanks again for tuning in. And if you've enjoyed today's show, please leave me a review. It really helps grow the show. And don't forget to hit the follow button so you don't miss an episode. Trust me, you don't want to be late for this detention. And listeners, if you've got a school story of your own that you think would fit Vice Principal on Office, I'd love to hear it. Just head to my podcast website and send me your story. And who knows, your story might even get a shout out in a future episode. Thanks so much for listening and for your support. Vice Principal on Office is an independent podcast with everything you hear done by me, Lisa Hill, and supported through BuzzSprout. Any information from today's show, along with any links and resources, are available in the show's notes. So if you want to do a little homework and dive deeper into anything I've mentioned, head over to my podcast website and check it out. And a big thank you to Matthew Chiam with Pixabay for the show's marvelous theme music. And of course, a huge shout out to my mother. This podcast is for the purpose of entertainment only, like the recess of your day, and not a platform for debates about public education. Though you never know, you can learn something. And just a reminder that the stories shared in this podcast represent one lens, which is based on my personal experiences and interpretations, and also reflect my unique perspective through humor. Names, dates, and places have been changed or omitted to protect identities and should not be considered universally applicable. Until next time, keep laughing and learning.