I declared today the first “International Clean Your Mini-Van Day!” because I really needed to get excited about this one. It always feels better when you feel as though you’re part of a celebration, something bigger than all of us.
I made it through the first row of seating before I declared “International Clean Your Mini-Van Day!” a total bust.
Chloe was roaming around the van while I tried to clean. Sometimes she shouted reacting to the noise of the vacuum hose and the obvious threat of being swallowed whole. Sometimes she was finding pieces of toys in obscure places (thanks stow-and-go) and making a bigger mess than I knew was possible. This made cleaning an even bigger chore because I risked sucking up the equivalent of a toy chest full of Littlest Pet Shops and random Mr. Potato Head limbs.
Except I didn’t appear to be sucking up anything except a lot of drama.
I knew it was time to replace the bag in the central vac holder/jug so I thought I would yank gently remove the bucket that housed the dust holder and take a look.
Yep—that’s dusty.
I drove the van up to the only place I could find locally that sells central vac bags but I called ahead to be sure they had my particular brand/style/part number in stock and was told it was a universal bag and to just come on in.
When I arrived there appeared to be several options so I waited for the guy working to help me out. Something tells me I had been his only call all morning because he knew before I asked what I had come in for and I was certain I hadn’t given him a physical description of myself over the phone, nor did I tell him what flavour of juice box Chloe would be drinking (apple).
He was sporting two diamond earrings. At least I thought they were diamonds, they might have been made from recycled vacuum bags. I was stripped of my Gemologist certificate (among other nifty credentials bestowed to me) when I proclaimed to the world that “the Dodge Grand Caravan is the greatest vehicle ever made.” Fifty per cent of the time, I stand behind that statement.
Vacuum guy quickly handed me a bag of bags and when I asked about the ones next to it he said, oh those ones are cheaper but they’re not as good.
“How much cheaper?” I asked.
“$3.”
“Sold.”
Vacuum Dude: “See I use the good ones because I drive a Benz.” He pointed randomly at the far wall. All I saw was carpet stain remover. Was there a Benz hidden in there somewhere? I was never very good at those relax your eyes and stare exercises.
Something tells me he works the “I drive a Benz” bit into just about every conversation he has in a day and I suspect sometimes he has just the one.
I drive a mini-van….so…..give me the cheap ones.
VD: “See, guys like to keep their cars clean.”
Oh my God he did not just say that! As a woman I was deeply and noticeably offended. As an exceptionally dirty mini-van driver I didn’t really have a leg to stand on.
What on earth did having a clean Benz and wearing the crown jewels to sell vacuums have to do with trying to up-sell me on bags? I guess someone had to pay for that car.
Was he really a Benz dealer in disguise? Maybe he was suggesting these were the “Benz of vacuum bags” the reference was completely lost on me.
VD: “See I don’t want any dust getting on my car.”
Me: “See, I just want a vacuum bag that can suck up about two boxes worth of Cheerios and a few Littlest Pet Shops about once a year.”
Make that exactly once a year, on International Clean Your Mini-Van day.
I bet the Benz owners wish they had a day like that.
