Breckworks is a coworking space in Breckenridge: gigabit fiber, 4K monitors, dog-friendly, Grey Line out front, slopes close enough to taunt you. Tech people fly in, take Zoom calls in a Mountain Cabin, and leave behind a surprising amount of biology.

We need a Member of Janitorial Staff. That is the official title. The unofficial title is Director of Daily Crap.

The crap, specifically

• Coffee grounds in places coffee has no business being. The 1Gbps is symmetric. The drip tray is not.
• Dog hair. We said the dogs were welcome. We meant it. We are now recruiting a human to negotiate with that decision.
• Ski boots parked like they pay rent. They do not. The No Frills desk is $45/day. The boots are $0/day and they know it.
• The conference room after a 10-person, $520 day. Whiteboard residue. HDMI dongles in the fern. A ring light still on, staring into the void.
• Phone Booth A, which is big enough to live in and, on at least one occasion, someone tried. Sleeping in the office is not permitted. The evidence sometimes is.
• Battery duty: door locks, fire alarms, the crooked lock on the exec office that has a personal vendetta.
• The special category of trash produced exclusively by people on Slack at 11,000 feet: protein-bar shrouds, melted Clif wrappers, and a single AirPod that is never the matching one.

What you will do

Show up. Deal with it. Reset the rooms so the next remote employee from “around the world” can write a 5-star review that says the space felt comfortable and clean, which is the product.

You will empty bins, wipe desks, run a vacuum that has seen things, restock paper, notice when the bathroom has entered a new geological era, and occasionally explain to a guest that the 4K monitor is not a coaster.

You will not be asked to join stand-up. You may be asked where the plunger is. Both are sacred knowledge.

Hours

Doors are 8am–5pm. The mess does not honor those hours. After-hours members have door codes. You will meet their ghosts in the morning: a mug, a hoodie, a Google Meet still licensed to nobody.

You might be a fit if

You have cleaned a real building, not just an apartment after a party. You can tell the difference between “closed for the day” and “abandoned mid-sprint.” You like dogs more than you like their hair. You can work on-site in Breckenridge in actual winter. You do not require a North Star metric for emptying a bin.

This is not a metaphor. The daily crap is daily, and it is crap. Someone has to deal with it so the rest of us can pretend we came here to work.

Apply with: your availability, whether you have a car that starts at 7am in January, and the worst thing you have ever found under a standing desk.