Ep. 37: History of Janitors and Custodians

Keys, Clogs, and the Sacred Janitor's Throne

This time, Hunter’s not just on the home throne. No sir, he's perched on the freshly scrubbed toilet of his soon-to-be former employer, recording from deep inside the tiled trenches of janitorial history.

So grab your pumpkin bread, brace for some Harry Potter nostalgia, and prepare your nostrils—because today, we’re talking about janitors, a backed-up bathroom from hell, and the unsung heroism of those who scrub where angels fear to tread.

The Janitor: Guardian of the Gates (and the Gunk)

First off, a little vocab lesson. The word custodian—rooted in "custody"—used to mean “guardian” or “caretaker.” We’re talking Hagrid-level key holder, entrusted with the safety and upkeep of land, animals, children, and in modern times… poop receptacles.

The word janitor, meanwhile, descends from Janus, the Roman god of doorways. You read that right. The deity of divine passageways. Your middle school janitor wasn’t just the guy who refilled the hand soap. He was a minor deity of threshold and flush.

Back in the day, janitors were respected. They were indispensable. They kept the keys. They knew the building inside and out. They kept ne’er-do-wells at bay with a mop in one hand and a plunger in the other. Think Hogwarts, but Filch and Hagrid merged into one sentient Pine-Sol-soaked legend.

From Sophomore to Sewer Whisperer

Hunter has been janitizing (a term he proudly invented) for nearly half his life. His origin story began in college dorms where he applied for a custodial job and was interviewed by—plot twist—his RA’s wife. She knew things. And yet, he got the job. Thus began a multi-year journey of mop buckets, plungers, and porcelain proximity.

In his words: “It's been free therapy. You toss in some headphones, zone out, and enter a state of bleach-scented peace.”

But all good janitor gigs must come to an end. And with that end comes reflection… and one absolutely horrendous bathroom horror story.

Hunter’s Anecdotes to Keep You Afloats: The Great Toilet Reverso

Let’s set the scene.

Hunter takes a rare weekend off. He returns to work only to be greeted by the janitor’s version of “Houston, we have a problem”:
“Did you hear about the bathroom?”

Let this be a warning to all who scrub. That phrase never precedes good news.

Apparently, one brave lad dropped a double-deuce and the toilet decided: No. Flushing failed. Plunging failed. The commode was sealed tighter than Fort Knox. Eventually, the toilet, perhaps possessed by the angry spirit of Taco Tuesday, began ejecting its contents in reverse.

Yes. Reverse.

We're talking full-on biblical levels of sewage wrath. Water, waste, and woe came bubbling out like the Nile turning to blood, only browner and smellier. The entire restroom became a Jackson Pollock painting in sepia tones. The floor was a swamp of regret. The walls bore splatter patterns that could only be described as “crime scene adjacent.” A humble sign reading "Out of Order" flapped in futility.

And the poor maintenance hero—shoutout to Kevin—was left to vacuum up gallons of human sadness with a Shop-Vac and a thousand-yard stare.

Hunter missed cleaning it by that much. But the memory (and the lingering stench) lives on.

Salute Your Sanitation Soldier

Janitors are modern monks of cleanliness. They know your mess, your secrets, and the true meaning of elbow grease. They deserve more than a half-hearted "thanks" and a soggy floor mat.

So this week, take a moment. Tip your hat, raise a mop, and post your appreciation with #ILoveMyJanitor. Bonus points if you draw a cartoon Roman god unlocking a stall with a toilet brush.

Hunter may be turning in his keys, but his stories—and his reverence for the janitorial arts—aren’t going anywhere.