I had a woman ask me today about the various cleaning tools we sell. I really hate to talk about all the cleaning tools because I sort of think most of them are bullshit. Like, how many microfiber wands do you need? Many of the people that buy the cleaning tools are extremely anal and want to make sure they get the "right tool for the right job," and they can't handle my relaxed, "they'll ALL do the job, man" attitude.
But this lady was a little wacky. She was jittery as all get out and glupping on a diet Wired beverage while we were talking. She wanted to know which tool to use to clean her floor. I showed her. She told me she already had that one and wanted to know what to use when they were REALLY dirty. I don't like to hear about people's filthy homes. I am a messy person and would rather spend my money on wine rather than expensive cleaning products. A cleaning discussion can lead dangeroulsy close back to my own dirty home. And that home is not part of my customer service fantasy world.
My fantasy home is tidy; a place for everything and everything in its place. I have tasteful wood and tile throughout, light filled rooms with charming window treatments, mismatched and well loved furniture. My kitchen is an epicenter of activity, and all my tools are smartly stored on hooks, bars, and shelves. My bathroom is a spotless getaway reminscent of the interior of a seashell. And my room, so unlike all the rooms of my past, is devoid of any possessions; a soft, warm place to sleep, read and think.
So I let them think, and hide my mess within.