I live in a complex where there are no washing machines or dryers in the units. I was told that if I wanted my clothes cleaned there is a nice little shop just yards from the complex. I thought great!
I gathered up what clothes I had to be cleaned and headed off to this “nice little shop.” When I arrive I visualized small but, I have seen closets bigger than this store. I thought for a moment, Oh I am sure this is just a drop off site and the laundry is done some where else. Nope its all done in the closet:) To my amazement there are 4 people pivoting on one foot performing their individual roles sharing this space with me a washing machine, dryer, ironing board, scale, and pay counter. I thought WOW now this is what I call efficiency.
My shoes are left outside as I see others deposited waiting for their owners to return. I am thinking, whose do these belong to? There is no room inside for all these leftovers. I take one step to the counter and lay my pile of clothes next to the scale. I look down at the floor and smiled. I discovered the owner’s of the shoes. The gentlemen gently picks up my clothes and weighs them. I am to be charged by the kilo-meter. He takes them off the counter and begins to count each piece. I begin to blush as my laundry is aired to a man I have never met. And, to think that men in America have a hard time going into a store to buy feminine products for their wife’s or girlfriend’s.
He politely gives me my receipt and off I go.
Upon my return the lady behind the counter is pointing at me holding up one finger and then pointing at the ironing board. Viola I understood all of that:) Translated…Ok wait a min. Your clothes are not done. We need to iron them. I think to myself. Wait. What did I bring that needs ironing? Ummm Nothing. I guess that was my opinion because all my clothes are being ironed including my socks. She picks up my bra and I thought oh, please, no. Whew! She didn’t.
After everything is folded and stacked, like she had attended Military training, she gently picked up each piece of clothing and sprayed it with something that looks like Fabreeze. She then proceeds to tightly wrap and seal my pile of stack clothes. I have such respect for the military but I begin gesturing that her efforts are not necessary. She points her index finger to the heavens beckoning God for my patience while she finishes her task to perfection.