Clean Sweep

The other day, I received something interesting in the mail. It wasn’t an exotic postcard from Maui; it was a thank-you note for a recent purchase I had made.

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

Thank you for buying a new Oreck. We hope it brings you many years of vacuuming pleasure. Please call us about hosting an Oreck party today.

Your friendly Oreck sales team

The truth is that I don’t have any intentions of spending a single enjoyable moment with my vacuum. I was a bachelor until I was 33 years old and I managed to maintain a very active social life without hovering over a Hoover or dallying with a Dirt Devil. In addition, I have always felt there is something very frightening about vacuum cleaners. Every dog I have ever owned agrees.

It was a friendly gesture by Oreck, to be sure. But I have no recollection of a similar follow-up after the Wolfsies bought our nifty sump pump. And I’ve gone through all my previous correspondence and no one cared a whit whether I had a positive experience with our document shredder. As a general rule, I don’t want annoying phone calls and letters asking me if I’m a satisfied customer. If I have a garbage disposal that is not disposing, the load of goop in my sink is a good indication that I’m not happy with my purchase. I’ll take it from there.

I recently had my car serviced and the dealership has called me every other day for a week to see if I am happy with my new brake pads. I told them that I couldn’t be more thrilled and that I’d be willing to throw a party for all their customers, just so people could vent about some of the poor brake pad choices they’ve made in the past. (Assuming anybody is still around.)

Now, let’s talk about that Oreck party. My wife and I are not big on “entertaining,” the term my mother used for dinner parties when I was growing up. As a kid, I kept waiting for Mom to break into song when the guests arrived and for my father to commence a little soft shoe.

But what about a vacuum cleaner bash? I’m not usually at a loss for words, but I’d be stuck for snappy conversation while guests clustered around the artichoke dip. I took a speech class in college and once spoke off-the-cuff for 15 minutes on the topic “Life Before Rubber Bands.” Nevertheless, the prospect of chatting with 20 people who shared similar cleaning devices was daunting.

“So, Dick, I understand that you and your wife have a new Oreck. Enlighten the group with some of your favorite moments.”

“It’s hard to pick our favorites. The night the bag of Fritos fell on the rug was unforgettable. We loved the time the dog shredded the down pillow. But Mary Ellen has a special place in her heart for Christmas morning when there were packing peanuts all over the living room floor.”

I think Mary Ellen and I will pass on the Oreck party. We still have feelings for our first vacuum and it was tough saying good-bye. It wasn’t easy for Kirby the past 25 years. He was the product of a bygone era. Until the day Kirby died, he pretty much remained in the closet.