frankiechocolate
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- Joined
- Mar 18, 2008
- Messages
- 60
( check out my blog, "the carpet cleaner's crocodile."
Dorothy and Toto ride it out © 2009 Frankie Chocolate
(for Mikey, a friendly old goat if there ever was one.)
Frankie Chocolate the carpet cleaner stared down at the low nap commercial carpet before him. Commercial work is a bear. They never want to pay anything, they wait till eternity to have it done; then want you to reverse years of mistakes the last cleaner made in one sitting. Backpack vacuums are part of the problem. They’re the industry standard because they sit on your back and give you the freedom to clean great sections of carpet quickly. Usually they have a narrow long nozzle to get under desks and in corners. Contract cleaners love them because they’re fast and you can cover a lot of ground, but because they have no revolving brush on the end don’t do much to get out the hidden, ground in dirt.
That’s the dirt that wicks up after you clean, makes the carpets look terrible and you like an idiot for not knowing it was going to happen. Bill Yerdon one of Frankie’s instructors had told him about a carpets amazing soil retention ability. The instructor related the story of how someone had cut out a piece of carpet from a remnant, put it on a scale and trimmed it so it weighed one pound. Then he took one pound of dry soil, dirt and gently poured and brushed it into the carpet. After a few minutes all the dirt had vanished. He put the carpet back on the scale and it weighed two pounds illustrating a carpet will hold its own weight in dirt and you can’t even see it.
That dirt is lurking in there, just waiting for you to wet the carpet so it can ride the capillary elevator to the top floor, come out on the observation deck and wave howdy to you. “Hey sucka, what you think? You think you can get rid of me so easily? I like it here and I’m staying here. Go suck rug somewhere else chump.”
It’s a shameful thing to have dirt mock you and not be able to mock back. Worse when the carpet owner starts ragging about how they paid good money and blah blah blah so the first thing you have to do is set realistic expectations.
“You got years of soil and spills in here and it’s not coming out in one cleaning.” Under promise and over deliver is the mantra of the day.
A carpet cleaner will try anything to get the carpets clean so he goes and rents a pile lifter vacuum. A pile lifter is to vacuums what diamonds are to lead—in theory. It is heavy, powerful, noisy and utterly ineffective. It has a stiff rotating brush that is supposed to go down, down down to the nubbins. To the place where grandpa dirt got his start and has raised three generations of dirt and raised em up proper to fear God and soil carpets. In reality they are noisy windbags that, in spite of what learned sage’s say about them loosening up the deep soil so a regular vacuum can suck it up are less than worthless.
Think Dorothy Dirt and Toto dirt looking out the cabin window of their dirt homestead and here comes the pile-lifting tornado. They race for the storm cellar but Uncle Ernie has it bolted from the inside. “Oh let me in, let me in,” she pleads pitifully while plucking at the fastened door. The wind starts rising and the hair on Toto’s back then Toto starts lifting up. Then Dorothy squints and looks closer at the tornado and laughs out loud. She kicks at the bolted cellar door and yells. “It’s a pile lifter tornado.” The cellar door opens a crack and uncle Ernie shout’s out. “How was that Dorothy?”
“You can come out now Uncle Ernie or stay in that spider hole for all I care. I was down there last week and am pretty sure I saw a black widow under the table.”
“What kinda tornado did ya say it was girl? The wind is howling powerful like and I didn’t quite hear ya.”
“It’s a pile lifter Tornado.”
“Not a blue norther,”
“No.”
“Not a green frog tosser?”
“No.”
“Not a yellow hog smasher?”
“No,” a pile lifter.”
“Heck, then what am I skeered of?” He said throwing wide the angled door and stepping up into the yard. Come on out Auntie Em. It’s just a pile lifter tornado.”
“ A Pile lifter? Land sakes, why didn’t you say so? I got canning to do.” And auntie Em and the rest of the farm hands and a billy goat named Mikey climbed blinking into the afternoon day. The sky had cleared up and it was sunny and calm.
“Dorothy, be a good girl and freshen up the storm cellar would you? Uncle Ernie was sick down there. There’s a good girl.” Said Auntie Em. Dorothy Dirt with Toto at her heels dutifully carried down some cleaning supplies, a back pack vacuum and a large bag containing snacks, some diet soda, doggie kibble and a stack of DVD’s for the player down there. Humming to herself she got a broom, knocked the spider out from under the table, stepped on it, flipped the rod holding the door open and the door slammed shut with her and Toto inside.
“Fool girl.” Said uncle Ernie to no one in particular.”
“ He walked to the house and turned on the dirt TV to hear the news bulletin. A Dyson Class DC28 vacuum tornado was reported touching down on the outskirts and headed towards town. Residents are urged to take cover. Ernie dropped his cup of coffee on the cut pile rug and ran with the rest of the family to the shelter door. But the wind was so loud somehow no one ever answered. The goat Mikey was the last one to get swept up into the vortex. It left its teeth marks in the cellar handle.
The end.
Dorothy and Toto ride it out © 2009 Frankie Chocolate
(for Mikey, a friendly old goat if there ever was one.)
Frankie Chocolate the carpet cleaner stared down at the low nap commercial carpet before him. Commercial work is a bear. They never want to pay anything, they wait till eternity to have it done; then want you to reverse years of mistakes the last cleaner made in one sitting. Backpack vacuums are part of the problem. They’re the industry standard because they sit on your back and give you the freedom to clean great sections of carpet quickly. Usually they have a narrow long nozzle to get under desks and in corners. Contract cleaners love them because they’re fast and you can cover a lot of ground, but because they have no revolving brush on the end don’t do much to get out the hidden, ground in dirt.
That’s the dirt that wicks up after you clean, makes the carpets look terrible and you like an idiot for not knowing it was going to happen. Bill Yerdon one of Frankie’s instructors had told him about a carpets amazing soil retention ability. The instructor related the story of how someone had cut out a piece of carpet from a remnant, put it on a scale and trimmed it so it weighed one pound. Then he took one pound of dry soil, dirt and gently poured and brushed it into the carpet. After a few minutes all the dirt had vanished. He put the carpet back on the scale and it weighed two pounds illustrating a carpet will hold its own weight in dirt and you can’t even see it.
That dirt is lurking in there, just waiting for you to wet the carpet so it can ride the capillary elevator to the top floor, come out on the observation deck and wave howdy to you. “Hey sucka, what you think? You think you can get rid of me so easily? I like it here and I’m staying here. Go suck rug somewhere else chump.”
It’s a shameful thing to have dirt mock you and not be able to mock back. Worse when the carpet owner starts ragging about how they paid good money and blah blah blah so the first thing you have to do is set realistic expectations.
“You got years of soil and spills in here and it’s not coming out in one cleaning.” Under promise and over deliver is the mantra of the day.
A carpet cleaner will try anything to get the carpets clean so he goes and rents a pile lifter vacuum. A pile lifter is to vacuums what diamonds are to lead—in theory. It is heavy, powerful, noisy and utterly ineffective. It has a stiff rotating brush that is supposed to go down, down down to the nubbins. To the place where grandpa dirt got his start and has raised three generations of dirt and raised em up proper to fear God and soil carpets. In reality they are noisy windbags that, in spite of what learned sage’s say about them loosening up the deep soil so a regular vacuum can suck it up are less than worthless.
Think Dorothy Dirt and Toto dirt looking out the cabin window of their dirt homestead and here comes the pile-lifting tornado. They race for the storm cellar but Uncle Ernie has it bolted from the inside. “Oh let me in, let me in,” she pleads pitifully while plucking at the fastened door. The wind starts rising and the hair on Toto’s back then Toto starts lifting up. Then Dorothy squints and looks closer at the tornado and laughs out loud. She kicks at the bolted cellar door and yells. “It’s a pile lifter tornado.” The cellar door opens a crack and uncle Ernie shout’s out. “How was that Dorothy?”
“You can come out now Uncle Ernie or stay in that spider hole for all I care. I was down there last week and am pretty sure I saw a black widow under the table.”
“What kinda tornado did ya say it was girl? The wind is howling powerful like and I didn’t quite hear ya.”
“It’s a pile lifter Tornado.”
“Not a blue norther,”
“No.”
“Not a green frog tosser?”
“No.”
“Not a yellow hog smasher?”
“No,” a pile lifter.”
“Heck, then what am I skeered of?” He said throwing wide the angled door and stepping up into the yard. Come on out Auntie Em. It’s just a pile lifter tornado.”
“ A Pile lifter? Land sakes, why didn’t you say so? I got canning to do.” And auntie Em and the rest of the farm hands and a billy goat named Mikey climbed blinking into the afternoon day. The sky had cleared up and it was sunny and calm.
“Dorothy, be a good girl and freshen up the storm cellar would you? Uncle Ernie was sick down there. There’s a good girl.” Said Auntie Em. Dorothy Dirt with Toto at her heels dutifully carried down some cleaning supplies, a back pack vacuum and a large bag containing snacks, some diet soda, doggie kibble and a stack of DVD’s for the player down there. Humming to herself she got a broom, knocked the spider out from under the table, stepped on it, flipped the rod holding the door open and the door slammed shut with her and Toto inside.
“Fool girl.” Said uncle Ernie to no one in particular.”
“ He walked to the house and turned on the dirt TV to hear the news bulletin. A Dyson Class DC28 vacuum tornado was reported touching down on the outskirts and headed towards town. Residents are urged to take cover. Ernie dropped his cup of coffee on the cut pile rug and ran with the rest of the family to the shelter door. But the wind was so loud somehow no one ever answered. The goat Mikey was the last one to get swept up into the vortex. It left its teeth marks in the cellar handle.
The end.
