The Cleaners - 10.22.09

The Cleaners - 10.22.09

I would like to share with you all what happened this morning at the cleaners. I'm not going to elaborate. I'm not going to try and make it funny. I just think it is funny. All by itself. I'm not going to do anything, but simply share the conversation I had there.

Now, for the full effect, you need to realize that I've been going there for years. I am always polite. I always make the normal conversation with them. "Good morning." "How are you." Blah blah blah.

They should remember me. If they have 2,000 clients that come to them for their clothes to get cleaned, out of that 2,000, they should remember me, of all people. They always talk to me. We always have a little mini-conversation of sorts. But when it comes time to put my name on the receipt book, they never remember me. Ever.

So, I enter. And there she is, the same bearded lady that's been there for years. And I'm in no way, shape, form or fashion, making fun of her. She is what she is. She's been sporting a 6 o'clock shadow for years. It's like her trademark or something.

She's always nice to me. A little spacey, but always nice. And they do great work there. But they NEVER remember me. It's a little disheartening, but I can handle it. What I can't handle, is the unnecessary psychobable that reared its ugly head this morning.

I entered with a double arm load of shirts and pants.

CASHIER: "Good morning."

ME: "Good morning."

CASHIER: "What's the name?"

ME: "Slade."

CASHIER: "Blade?"

ME: "No..., Slade."

I wonder if she's ever shaved that thing?

CASHIER: "A?"

ME: "What? No mam, Slade."

CASHIER: "Yes, but is it 'A' Slade?"

This particular cleaners only goes by your last name, first initial.

ME: "No mam, it's 'J' Slade."

She has to have a mirror in at least one room of her house.

CASHIER: "What are you picking up?"

What am I picking up? First of all, this place has a large sign with big letters above the counter that clearly states "You MUST have your receipt to pickup your order!" So, shouldn't you be asking me for my receipt if I'm picking up? Second of all, I've got an arm load of clothes. You do the math.

ME: "Nothing. I'm dropping off."

CASHIER: "So you're not picking anything up?"

I look down at in my arms at the pile of clothing I'm bringing in and plop it over onto her counter.

ME: "No. Just dropping off."CASHIER: "Are you sure?"

ME: "Yeah... I'm sure."

CASHIER: "So what have you got there?"

ME: "Shirts and pants."

Do other people stare at her beard?

CASHIER: "How many?"

ME: "I don't know. Aren't you supposed to count them?"

CASHIER: "Oh, I'll count them."

ME: "Well, there you go."

P.T. Barnum would have a field day with this gal.

CASHIER: "One. Two. Three. Four. Wait, that's rayon. Three and one. Four. Five...."

(You get the picture.)

CASHIER: "You've got 12 regular shirts, 1 rayon shirt and 1 pants."

One pants? I will keep that smirk to myself, for now. No need to nit-pick her grammer.

ME: "That sounds right."

CASHIER: "You don't want any starch do you?"

I'm at the cleaners. I'm about to pay close to $3 per shirt and $5 for a pair of pants. I'm thinking the answer should be obvious. But it appears she's trying to talk me out of starch. But I want starch. So I say...

ME: "Yes, I want starch."

CASHIER: "Oh, you do? What kind?"

That was easy.

ME: "Whatever the little yellow tags mean. My clothes always have the little yellow tags on them."

CASHIER: "That's light starch."

ME: "Ok, then. Light starch it is."

And I smile.

She fills out the little receipt book with all my info about how many I have of each and what kind of starch I want. And then she writes 'Slade, A' at the top.

ME: "It's 'J' Slade."

CASHIER: "That's what I put."

ME: "No, it says 'A' Slade, right there."

I know I don't have a lisp.

CASHIER: "Well, what did you say?"

ME: "I said 'J' Slade."

CASHIER: "Oh, you did, didn't you? What was I thinking?"

ME: "I don't know."

I smile.

CASHIER: "Well, we have an 'A' Slade, a 'J' Slade, another 'J' Slade,"

That's not counting me, I assume.

CASHIER: "... an 'E' Slade, an 'L' Slade. We've got alot of Slades."

ME: "Well, that's good."

I point down at the 'A' on the receipt book she's writing in.

ME: "But I'm 'J' Slade."

CASHIER: "Yes, you are. I will change that."

She does.

ME: "Did y'all ever think about using the person's entire first name instead of just the first initial?"

CASHIER: "No. It gets too confusing that way. This way works fine."

ME: "Oh, I see."

CASHIER: "And, there you go."

She hands me the ticket.

I ask the obvious question.

ME: "When will they be ready?"

CASHIER: "Whenever you want to get them will be fine."

I grin.

ME: "Ok, I want them now."

CASHIER: "But you said you weren't picking anything up."

This is classic.

ME: "No, I meant I want the ones I just gave you."

I smile again because she's really getting confused now.

CASHIER: "But they're not ready yet."

ME: "But you said 'any time'."

She is really puzzled.

CASHIER: "Well, you just dropped them off."

ME: "So when will they be ready to pickup?"

She smiles and shakes her head a little with that 'duh' look on her face.

CASHIER: "Anytime's fine."

Even though I'm dragging her along this road of confusion, I'm still very surprised that it's this hard to get a straight answer.

ME: "So tomorrow is ok?"

CASHIER: "Sure. Anytime after five."

ME: "Ok. Tomorrow after five. I can do that."

CASHIER: "Are you sure you aren't here to pick something up?"

ME: "Yes. Unless my wife brought something by here that I wasn't aware of, I don't have anything to pickup."

CASHIER: "Well, I could've sworn that I saw an 'A' Slade back there."

Ok. There's a thousand shirts back there and she miraculously remembers that one of them probably had a name on it that was not mine. I'm intrigued, to say the least.

ME: "But I'm not 'A' Slade."

CASHIER: "Well, I guess you're not. Otherwise, you'd be picking up your stuff."

ME: "Are we done here? Can I go now."

CASHIER: "Yes. Thank you. Come again."

ME: "I will. I've still got to pickup those shirts."

CASHIER: "The one's your wife brought?"

ME: "My wife didn't bring any."

CASHIER: "Ok, then. Thanks."

I'm thinking that if this place is turning a profit at all, then I should be a millionaire.