This Post May Suck, But You Know What Doesn't?

“I’ll tell you what,” Chris assured us, “You could buy a Hoover, but you’d be better off taking the money and throwing it out that window.”

At this point, Brian and I held our breaths and looked at each other.  I was trying to silently make Brian laugh out loud and he was returning the favor.  Chris (Brian will know his real name.  He’s just some guy I vaguely remember) was trying to sell us a vacuum cleaner. 

Actually, that’s not true.  He was just telling us about how great the vacuum cleaner was.  He was definitely not trying to sell it to us.  He swore.  The last thing he wanted to do was sell a vacuum cleaner.  That was not his job.  That was the vacuum cleaner’s job.  Oh and by the way, it wasn’t a “vacuum cleaner” he wasn’t trying to sell.  It was a Kirby!

Kirby is not just any old vacuum cleaner.  And Chris was not just any old vacuum cleaner salesman. It was his one and only true passion.  This was not one of those deals where the guy calls you up and offers to vacuum your whole house for free.  Neither Brian nor I had a house.  Or an apartment.  We each lived with our respective parents.  But the party was at Brian’s house.  Or rather, his parents’ house.  Every night.  That’s where all the kids hung out.  There was a rotating group of roughly 10 of us with the occasional visitor.  You never knew who was going to stop by.  It was like when Bob Hope used to just walk on to talk shows. 

But tonight it was just Brian, Chris the not vacuum cleaner not salesman, and me.

About 2 weeks before, Chris had been out of work.  Then he answered an ad to be a Kirby salesman.  His job was cold-calling people and volunteering to vacuum their whole house.

But now, he was off the clock.  My mom had a vacuum cleaner.  I had no use for one as far as I knew.  Brian was in roughly the same boat.  I had a car.  The year was about 1982.  My car was a 1972 Chevy Nova.  I had bought it from my dad for $300 with money I had made working at Wendy’s. 

“Do you have a car?” Chris had cleverly countered my objection that I had no use for a vacuum cleaner.    

“Yeah, but I don’t clean it or anything,” I lied.

Ignoring me, Chris persisted, not selling, mind you.  Teaching.  Removing the beam from my eye, as it were, “Well if you’ve ever tried to vacuum out your car with one of those shitty car wash vacuums, you know what a pain it is.  Plus, 25 cents for 3 minutes?  No thanks.”

“How much are these Kirby’s, by the way?” I asked for the third time.  Remember, we were just sitting around shooting the shit.  Just the regular evening chat. 

“A hell of a lot cheaper than 25 cents for 3 minutes, I can guarantee that,” Chris guaranteed.

Way way later on in the story, we did finally get to hear the price of the Kirby Vacuum cleaner.  But I’m not sure anybody has the time to wait so I’ll just tell you now. It was $1500.  But there appeared to be some wiggle room there.  Or maybe those were friend prices.  I don’t recall.

So of course neither Brian nor I had any interest in any vacuum cleaner of any kind.  We were just having fun pretending to take an interest.  That’s when Brian said, “I thought the best vacuum cleaners were made by Hoover.”

Chris almost choked and did a spit take or whatever.  “Hoover!  Are you kidding me?  Those things suck more than any vacuum cleaner ever made in the entire history of vacuum cleaner making!”

Brian was extremely satisfied with this response.  The spider had the fly.  And with a lame old joke too.  And while the spider carefully navigated the web to bind the fly, it continued to try to sell the spider a vacuum cleaner, because all analogies break down at some level.

“Are you going to sit here and tell me that Kirby’s don’t suck?”  Brian asked in all seriousness.

“Kirby is the only vacuum cleaner ever made that does not suck,” replied Chris.  Oblivious.

My turn, “You know, we have an old Kirby at Wendy’s.  I have to use it when I’m on dining room.  I hate that heavy old thing.  And oh yeah, it sucks pretty hard.  Of course we only use it after close.  During the day we just pull out the Bissell.  I'll tell you what.  That Bissell may be small and light, but it definitely doesn't suck. ”

At this point, Brian and I suddenly begin to panic.  I might have gone too far on that one.  The trick is to be as obvious as possible without letting the fly know what’s happening.  Whoever gives the joke away loses. 

“Listen Frank,” Chris says, “I don’t know anything about your Kirby at work, but it probably just needs a little maintenance – and with this price, the maintenance is free for life!”

Unbelievable.  That went completely by him.  “No, it’s kept maintained.  In fact, this lady who’s worked there since the place opened said the vacuum cleaner sucks as much now as it did when it was new.”

Shit.  I screwed that wording up.  Surely he’ll catch that one.

“Oh, I see what you guys are doing.  Very funny.  Hardy har har,” I lose.  I got too cocky, I guess.

Ok here’s what’s going on.  I’ve been busy the last couple of days and have nothing to say.  Around here, when you’ve got nothing to say, you talk about the weather.  But I hate talking about the weather.  Especially right now because the weather sucks so bad.  We all know it sucks so why talk about it?  That’s why I chose to talk about the Kirby vacuum cleaner.  

I am not a Kirby vacuum cleaner salesman.  There is no such thing.  I am more of a delivery driver.  The Kirby sells itself.  I merely stand there and humbly collect the paltry $2000 from the people who insist on throwing money at me for knocking on their door to let them know that their future is standing majestically on the porch.  Its brilliant chrome base and handmade bluish plaid bag quietly waiting to take its place in your home.  And your heart.  Call me for an appointment.