A few people looked away.
One of the assistant leads snorted.
Camille set her coffee down slowly. “I wasn’t assigned to restroom cleaning.”
Denise’s eyebrows rose as if she had just heard a joke in another language. “Assigned? Honey, in this building, people are assigned to whatever I say they’re assigned to.”
“I understand work needs to be done,” Camille replied. “I’m asking why you chose me.”
The question landed harder than defiance.
Denise took one step closer. “Because you’re standing here doing nothing, and because I don’t like people acting delicate on my floor.”
“I’m not acting delicate.”
“Then prove it.” Denise turned toward the storage closet and pointed. “Mop. Gloves. Toilet cleaner. Move.”
The room went painfully still.
Camille could feel people watching her without wanting to be caught watching. She saw warning in their eyes, not judgment. They were silently telling her the same thing: do not make this worse.
But Camille had not come to Harrington Supply to keep the peace.
She had come to find out what peace was costing.
“Is this how you normally speak to employees?” she asked.
Denise laughed.
Not because anything was funny, but because she wanted the room to know she still owned it.
“Employees?” Denise said. “Let me explain something. This isn’t a college seminar. This is a warehouse. Around here, people do what they’re told, especially new people who haven’t earned the right to ask questions.”
Camille’s expression did not change. “And if I refuse?”
Denise smiled wider. “Then I call security, have you removed, and make sure you never work another shift here.”
Someone near the back whispered, “Denise, come on.”
Denise whipped around. “Who said that?”
No one answered.
“That’s what I thought.” She turned back to Camille. “You people always want to test boundaries until consequences show up.”
The words did not explode.
They slid into the room, ugly and familiar.
Camille heard a woman inhale sharply. Eli stared at the table. The older janitor closed his eyes for half a second, like he had heard that sentence in different forms for most of his life.
Camille nodded once.
“You people,” she repeated softly.
Denise’s smile twitched. “Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting them. I’m remembering them.”
Denise stepped closer until only a few feet separated them. “You need to worry less about remembering and more about scrubbing. I don’t know who hired you, but I can promise you this. If you want to last in my facility, you’ll stop standing there like you’re too good for honest work.”
Camille looked around the room.
At the tired faces.
At the frightened silence.
At the supervisors who had mistaken fear for loyalty.