I looked at the vault, filled with wealth,
Stocked up to the brim - to the highest shelf.
I wheeled my janitorial cart to the door,
The distracted tellers behind me, too contentious to ignore.
They argued and argued, left me alone,
To enter the vault and clean in my zone.
I looked at the door, impervious as can be,
Nothing can get through… without the key.
The vault door swung open, I pulled out my vacuum,
And sucked up the cash without a thought of the back room.
The bag grew heavy, the seams began to split,
I smiled at the empty room and snickered a bit.
“Where’s the money!” I shouted, “Should I still clean?”
The tellers arrived in seconds, around 15.
“Oh my god!” One shouted, he started to repent,
The other looked terrified and began to lament.
I provided an allusion, to throw them off course,
“There’s no chimney here, but the presents were removed by force.”
They led me upstairs and pulled the alarm,
“We’ve been robbed,” they told me, with very little charm.
“Thank you for your time,” they said and turned to scampered away,
“Oh wait!” I called, “I have a question that I meant to ask earlier today.”
“What was the debate from earlier boys?”
“I’d like to be the arbiter to the argument that caused all the noise.”
“We were wondering,” one said with a sigh,
“Do janitors make any money? We don’t mean to pry.”
I looked at the men and looked down at my cart,
Then smiled and nodded, “When you work with your heart.”