There’s something about a fresh carpet cleaning job that always gets me in the zone. Maybe it’s the transformation, maybe it’s the stories I get to experience, or maybe—it’s the mystery stains that challenge me on a daily basis.
This job started with a call from a lady who had a dehumidifier mishap. A nice amount of spilled water, and she didn’t want to take any chances with mold or mildew creeping in. Smart thinking. I pulled up, did my walkthrough, and everything was routine—until I saw it.
A stain. A stain so bold, so unapologetic, so disrespectful. This stain chose violence and dared me to even consider a solution. I had 2 more jobs to get to, I wasn’t about to duke it out with that deep blob. “Maam… Im pretty sure that’s not coming out.”
She didn’t flinch. “Oh, I know! I wasn’t even worried about that.”
Superb! Were on the same page.
Still, curiosity got me. “How does a stain like this even happen?”, I ask
That’s when she casually dropped the bombshell: “Oh, my dog got into the shoe polish and was eating it.”
I blinked. Processing…
The dog…was eating the shoe polish?
So many follow-up questions. None of which I asked because before I could, she had to rush off to work—night shift. Respect. I’ve always admired the night-shift warriors out there grinding while the rest of the world sleeps.
She left payment with her oldest son, who was still home along with his younger brother. I could tell right away—this kid was the protector. You can just see it sometimes. The way he carried himself. He was posted up at his PC, playing a racing game with the kind of focus only teenage boys and professional drivers possess.
It took me back, man. Back to my teenage years. Back to when I’d stay up way too late playing Command and Conquer with my cousin with a dial up modem. Heck, I still remember playing DOOM in high school—on the school network, no less. (Yeah, I’m showing my age.) We were multiplayer gaming before it was even a thing!
Life moves fast. Too fast. One minute, you’re a kid blasting demons on a 90s PC, and the next, you’re standing in someone’s home, steam-cleaning their carpet and wondering if a dog survived a shoe polish burrito.
I finished the job, packed up my gear, and took one last look at that stubborn stain. Still there looking back at me.
Some stains just win.
But hey, at least the rest of the carpet was looking fresh.
And as for the dog? Well… I really should have asked if it survived.
Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing a dog in that house. 🙁