Fred ran a small family-owned vacuum sales and service shop. He was essentially the only employee, unless one of his family members came to help. Over the years, he gained many loyal customers who wouldn’t let anyone else touch their vacuums when they needed repairs.
Fred’s repair room was located just behind the counter, allowing him to work on machines until a customer arrived and needed assistance. He enjoyed visiting with everyone who came in. One such customer was Carla.
Carla had an old vacuum that looked like the first ones Fred remembered seeing as a boy in the 1940s. Some of those old vacuums were real beasts and could withstand a beating and continue working, but Fred struggled to repair them. It wasn’t because the vacuums were that complicated. In many ways, they were more basic than the modern ones. However, the problem was that the parts were difficult to find if they could be found at all. Often, he would have to make a part himself if possible. When the part was beyond what he could manufacture in his shop, he was left to suggest that the person needed to buy a new vacuum.
Carla was like many people with these old vacuums. It was more than just a piece of machinery; it was part of the family. The people who owned them were usually elderly, and the vacuum brought back wonderful memories.
When Fred first opened his store, Carla’s old vacuum came in about once a year. However, after about twenty years, the frequency of visits increased to around twice a year. From there, it became more frequent until the vacuum spent more time with Fred than it did with Carla. Fred began to feel the old vacuum looked at his shop as a vacuum retirement home, and it didn’t want to leave.
The day finally came when Fred had to inform Carla that the part it needed could not be found anywhere, and it was beyond his ability to create it. He told her she would probably have to buy a new one.
Tears came to Carla’s eyes. He had seen this before. It was like he was telling her that a person she loved had died.
Carla forced a smile. “I’m ninety-one, and my parents owned that vacuum when I was a child. I suppose a vacuum, like the rest of us, eventually reaches a point of diminished value.
Fred tried to comfort her and help her feel valued in her life. Her husband was gone, so he talked of her children and asked how they were doing. He knew many of them, who had, at times, brought the vacuum in. As she talked about her family, she seemed to feel better.
Carla said she wasn’t ready to make a decision about a new vacuum just yet. “Whatever I get will probably outlive me, and that gives me a strange feeling.”
Fred carried the old vacuum out to Carla’s car and carefully set it on the back seat, showing it the respect Carla felt for it.
After Carla had a few days to get her feelings together, she came back to buy a new vacuum. Fred showed her some of the latest models, one in particular. He smiled and said, “This baby really sucks.”
Carla turned and looked at him in shock, and he realized that maybe the humor was lost on her. That was probably humor for younger people. So, he tried to explain its strengths. When he finished, Carla seemed pleased and purchased the vacuum.
However, only a few days later, Carla brought it back. “I’m surprised you would sell me a defective vacuum that you yourself said was sucky.”
“What’s wrong?” Fed asked.
“That useless thing fills the bag about every five minutes,” Carla replied. “I went through packs of bags in hardly any time at all.”
Fred smiled. Carla’s old vacuum had struggled for so long he could imagine that it hardly took in anything. He didn’t try to explain that filling the bag was a good thing, but took the new vacuum back and found Carla one that didn’t suck as much. She was much happier with that.
The post This Vacuum Sucks first appeared on Meridian Magazine.
