He watched, frowning. “Gentlemen,” Jordana glanced at her watch. “I need to go in. I have a commitment at nine.” “A commitment?” Matos mocked. “Janitors’ meeting? Cleaning staff breakfast?” “I am not a janitor. I ask that you let me pass.” She picked up her briefcase and tried to go around Matos. “I didn’t give you permission to leave,” he barked, physically blocking her path, invading her personal space. “You stay here until I decide you can go.” Jordana stepped back. “Officer, please, I’m trying to get to work.”
“First prove you work here. Documents. Now.” “My ID is in my bag.” “I don’t want fake ID.” Matos waved his hand aggressively near her. “I want official authorization. Someone to confirm you work here.” “I can call administration.” “No—you’re leaving.” Matos pointed at the car. “Move that miserable car out of here and get out before I arrest you for trespassing on public property.” “Trespassing?” Jordana kept her voice calm, though genuine disbelief showed. “How is it trespassing if I’m in my assigned space?”
“Your space?” Ferreira stepped in from the other side, surrounding her. “That space is for authority—it says so right there.” He pointed to a sign Jordana hadn’t been able to see from where she stood. “Reserved for important people, not for…” He paused, searching for an offensive word that wouldn’t be too explicit. “…for people who clearly don’t belong here.” “I do belong here,” Jordana said firmly. “I’ve worked in this building every day for seven years.” “Seven years?” Matos laughed. “Then you must be very good at cleaning.”
“Seven years scrubbing floors and bathrooms for important people.” “I am not a janitor,” Jordana repeated more firmly. “I have a university degree, postgraduate studies, passed a public exam.” “Oh really?” Ferreira stepped closer. “In what? Specialized cleaning? Gourmet coffee?” Both laughed loudly. The sound echoed across the nearly empty parking lot. Cardoso stepped away from the patrol car and began walking toward them. Slow but determined steps. “Matos, what exactly is going on?”
“Nothing that concerns you, Cardoso,” Matos replied without looking at him. “Go back to the patrol car and stay there.” “You’re surrounding her. That’s not standard protocol.” “I said go back to the patrol car!” Matos roared. “Or do you want to be suspended? Want to lose your salary? Then obey.” Cardoso hesitated, looking at Jordana with concern. She gave him a slight nod, signaling him not to risk it. “Gentlemen,” Jordana tried again, now with tension in her voice. “I’m just going inside. There’s no need for confrontation.”
