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Gone is good. (Isn't it?) What's Next? Carpet Bombing?By Rick Horowitz
Smiling Stan the Carpet Man is going door to door, and grinning ear to ear. He's working our neighborhood this morning -- little rolls of carpet on his shoulders, and a scruffy old attach‚ case in one hand. He uses his other hand to ring doorbells, and to shake whatever hand first comes to the door. "Good morning, sir. I am Smiling Stan the Carpet Man, and do I have a deal for you!" He's a pleasant-looking gentleman, his hair neatly parted, his shoes newly polished. He means us no harm -- we simply don't need what he's selling. I explain to him that we already have a carpet in every room where we might possibly want a carpet, and that we're happy with our colors and we're happy with our styles. His smile doesn't waver for a second. "Ah, yes -- certainly," he says. "And tell me, are you happy with your stains?" He has me there. We do give our carpets a workout, and every now and again while we're racing around, we've been known to spill a drop of something. Most of the time, we can just wipe it right up. Once or twice, though... "Precisely as I thought," he says. "Show me." And he's through the door before I have a chance to say a word. By the time I can catch up with him, he's kneeling in a corner of our living room. Kneeling, and pointing. "Here," he says. "Here is where you need Smiling Stan the Carpet Man." I explain as politely as I can that we appreciate his concern, but that stain or no stain, we're simply not in the market for new carpeting. Besides, we have more important things to do with our money. Do my words change his expression one iota? Maybe so -- I think his grin is even wider. "I am not selling you new carpet," he announces. "I am selling you making your old carpet new!" With that, he sets his carpet rolls down in another corner and snaps open his attache case. He sorts through the contents -- cans and bottles of all shapes and sizes. Finally, with a triumphant flip of the wrist, he produces one particular can and holds it trophy-high. "This one," he says. "This one will make the stain go." It's a bright blue aerosol can, with red and white lettering all around it: Stain-Go. The entire process, he says, will take just ten minutes; he points me toward the couch. Then he sprays and he rubs, sprays and rubs, sprays and rubs. (The smell is awful -- I open all the windows.) At one point, I think he's finished, and I start to move closer. "Not yet," he says. "Soon." And he sprays and rubs some more. At last, he calls me over to inspect his work. The stain is gone. So is most of the color. "You like?" I don't like, and I tell him so. The rest of the living-room carpet is a deep, rich brown, like chocolate. But where the stain used to be, there's now a saucer-sized area that's a pale, sickly brown, like planks of wood. "Of course it's like wood!" he shouts. "It is wood!" I lean in for a better look, and discover to my horror that it's not just the stain that's gone, and the color. The carpet is gone, too -- I can see straight through to the floor! Not only that, but every place he's put down his can, there's another ugly circle of destruction. Meanwhile, our neighbors are pounding on the door -- the fumes are making them sick, and they're vowing bloody revenge on both of us if we don't leave the neighborhood this instant. Smiling Stan the Carpet Man is still smiling. He seems incredibly proud of himself. "The stain is gone, yes?" Yes, of course the stain is gone, but look at all the damage you did getting rid of it! We're going to have to spend much more money and much more time than we ever -- "The stain is gone, yes?" Maybe it's my imagination, but his smile seems just a bit tighter around the edges. "And is a carpet better with a stain, or without?" Well, without. But not if -- "Why do you always look at other things?" he says. "This is my only question for you: Is a carpet better with a stain, or without?" Without, but -- "No buts -- with a stain, or without?" Without. "And I have removed the stain, yes? So the carpet is better. The room is better. The house is better! The whole world is better!!" I think he's in the wrong business. Posted 7/23/04. Catch
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Rick Horowitz
