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A Machine That Really Sucks!
by D. Cashon Klein
My ex and my sister thought they were doing a good thing for me. I want it known here and now that any animosity or vitriol set down in this document is not directed at them. How could they know? Buyer beware.
I asked for a vacuum cleaner for Christmas a couple years ago. You may assume that a person who requests a vacuum cleaner for Christmas has no life. In my case, you would be right. But at my age, appliances are sexy. Anyway, I wanted one of those “high end” models. No one wants to sink big bucks into a sweeper, no matter how much they love you. I assured them that a cheaper one would be sufficient... I mean, what does it need to do? Serve me breakfast in bed?
I wanted an ergonomic sweeper. I wanted an efficient sweeper. In all fairness, the box that housed the creature probably touted it as the best thing since post-it notes.
I hate my vacuum cleaner. Masking tape on a stick would work better.
Let me tell you about the HEPA (high efficiency particulate air) filters. This wonder machine has two of them developed to “reduce the harmful allergens in the home.” That alone was probably a main selling point for the ex and my sister. I have allergies. These miraculous filters would help me. HELP me. There’s a big, round, accordion-type filter and an itty-bitty square one. The round one becomes totally caked after a couple passes around the living room. You’d think I was vacuuming a herd of angora sheep... The itty-bitty second filter never gets a chance to catch anything. It just sits in its little slot thinking of a better job at Dyson when it grows up. I have to peel the angora sheep S#!% off the drum of the thing and then rinse the little creases under warm water, then set it in the sun to dry out. It’s true. My allergies are better. Now I suffer from ANXIETY attacks.
The hose on this monstrosity is about as flexible as a Republican on the subject of minimum wage reform. The pathetic length of it is such that I have to hoist the entire cleaner up in the air in order to reach a ceiling fan blade on a ceiling only seven feet high. To sweep the space behind the bed I must haul the whole contraption up ON to the bed in order to hang over the headboard and flail away with the hose to sweep with the tiny attachment brush stuck in the end of a foot and a half of black PVC plastic. (This little brush was one of two handy attachments provided in the box. The other is an edger tool that is a total mockery of efficiency and design.) It is at these moments when the vacuum cleaner decides to actually SUCK, wrapping the edge of the comforter around the beater bar and efficiently SNAPPING the belt, for which the company is kind enough to provide an extra in the box with the attachments. I have had to purchase several size “U” belts because they break every time the machine sucks up anything longer than a slug. The belt not only snaps, but smoke spews forth from the highly engineered vents on the side of the main casing for added dramatic effect.
This machine doesn’t do any better with smaller particles. I have terrazzo in much of my house. So I set the sweeper as low as it will go, I believe the setting is called “bare floors.” Sounds about right, right? When attempting to sweep up the cat litter that ends up around the box rather than in the box, the machine spreads it like a farmer scattering chicken feed. The litter doesn’t go up into the sweeper; it slams against my feet and baseboards like shrapnel. It would make a passable seed spreader, because it sure doesn’t suck... well it does, but not the way I need it to.
And the sound is deafening. What King Crimson didn’t take away from my ability to hear, this machine did... what?
The cord, unlike the hose, is plenty long and plenty thin. I’ve lost count of the electrical-tape-patch repairs I’ve done on it. It wraps around the base of the sweeper, the furniture and my ankles like a hyper Yorkie on a short leash. The beater bar does work on the cord, and it has efficiently bitten chunks out of it every time it passed over a length of it.
When using the machine, there is nowhere to store the useless edger tool because there is only one slot for the two handy attachments. There are times when I actually use the useless edger, so I have to clutch it in my one free hand while pushing the sweeper with my other while also trying to keep the cord away from certain death with my foot. I’ve learned to wear heavy shoes. This is no way to live. My wrists and hands are totally numb from clutching and lifting and untangling. My past work in a factory and as a massage therapist got this infliction started, and the vacuum cleaner finished them off. I should just amputate both hands and have state-of-the-art sweeper attachments fitted to my forearms. I could be “Deborah Sweeper Hands.” The cat wouldn’t go for it (but the ex might).
People dream of island getaways with Angelina Joli or Johnny Depp. I dream of that Dyson guy, or that Oreck guy, and their awesome machines. Now those are men.
Debbie Cashon Klein is a Safety Harbor resident.
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