The first time I recall using a squeegee, I was working in Royal Oak at the National Food Store on Stephenson Highway just off 11 Mile. I was hired as a stock boy in the fall of my junior year. One of the jobs the stock boys were assigned was cleaning the giant front windows of the store. We had a long handled squeegee, a bucket of cleaning solution, and a pile of dirty aprons. Most of the employees wore a long white apron to protect their clothes. We wiped up the excess water with the used aprons. If you told me then I would one day write a blog about the experience, I would have said you were crazy.
Ruth and I, and the three kids, drove through New York City when the kids were nine, ten, and twelve. It was one of our stops on a trip east. A man approached our van at a stop light and started cleaning the windshield with a sprayer of dirty water and a red handled squeegee that looked like it might have been lifted from a service station. He was looking for a tip, but I just drove off, too intimidated by the process to fully understand what was happening. I was a small town boy visiting the big city.
Ruth and I rented a condo in Palm Springs for three winters. We spent January, February and March in 2008, 2009, and 2010. It was a nice two bedroom, two bath, at the Cathedral Canyon Country Club.
Like all rentals, the condo came with a list of rules. The one I found most challenging was cleaning the glass shower with a squeegee. They went so far as to post instructions on the glass door. It’s not that I’m a born rule breaker, I just didn’t like working while still in the shower. I understood the desire to keep the glass as spot free as possible, however, working up a sweat after just taking a shower didn’t appeal to me. But I complied.
We had a glass shower at home, but I seldom took the time to wipe it down. If my negligence bothered Ruth, she never complained.
Our new condo has three glass showers. Two of the three are rather large. The downstairs guest room is three by five, and our master bath is three by six and a half. That’s a lot of glass. Ruth has a squeegee for each one. We don’t have any signs but I’m expected to clean the glass shower after each use.
Yesterday, Ruth came home with a new color-coded squeegee. The old blue one from the house didn’t go well with the colors of the condo’s bath. It was too bright. The new one is more subdued. It’s a better match. In fact, it blends so well with the earth tones of our new master bath, it took me five minutes to find it.
I’ve taken squeegees for granted until now. I fully understand their importance. I’m going to suggest to Ruth that we tie a yellow ribbon around our new one. I’m not looking for anything too gaudy, just something to help me locate the thing. If I’m going to complete the wipe down in a timely manner, I need to locate my tools more quickly. It’s a win all the way around.