Anyone ever been thrown out of a laundramat before? Today, I got thrown out of TWO!
I've been using the same laundramat about once every two weeks for the last year and a half. I popped a load of laundry in a washer there late this afternoon and came back to move it into the dryer about an hour after the wash had stopped.
If this were a busy time for them, I would have been waiting for the washer to stop, and for that matter, if it had been a busy time, they would have taken the clothes out themselves, but I knew from previous visits that the machines would be running at well under 25% utilization, so no one would be inconvenienced by my leaving my completed load in there for an hour.
When I walked in the front door, a girl who I had never seen working there previously yelled to me, "The floor's wet!" I said, "I see that. My laundry is in that washer", and pointed at the fourth washer from the front of the line. She then yelled, "It stopped a minute ago". She meant an hour ago, but I understood that. Anyway, I said, "Are you telling me the floor is wet out of concern that I might slip on it, or because you don't want me to leave any footprints?"
At that point, she blew up and started yelling. "You could have gotten the clothes an hour ago. I don't want no trouble! Don't give me no trouble!". I calmly replied, "I don't think you understood my question. Is it alright if I remove the clothes, or do you want me to wait until the floor is drier?"
She again yelled, "Don't give me no trouble!", so instead of pushing one of the wicker-wire service carts in front of the dryer, I went to my truck and got the large plastic tub that I had brought the clothing in, to remove it and take it elsewhere. As soon as I stepped on the wet part of the floor, she went ballistic and was practically screaming, "Don't give me no trouble! Don't give me no trouble! You coulda got that laundry an hour ago".
I'll tell you, if she had gotten any closer to me, this would have actually been a threatening situation, of sorts, because even though I outweighed her by about 150 pounds, anyone can stab anyone, no matter what their size differential is, and I think she was on drugs and I wouldn't have put anything past her. Anyway. I briskly loaded my clothes into my tub and left without saying anything else to her.
I then drove south along this strip-mall district, figuring I'd find another laundramat, and, within a mile and a half, I did. It was much larger, much nicer and had longer hours. It also appeared to be professionally run, with a staffed service counter and related professional services available. I decided that this would become my new, regular laundramat.
I observed that the dryers were running at well under 50% utilization, so I surely wasn't inconveniencing any other customers who had to dry the loads that they had just washed.
But as soon as I started to load one dryer, this little Chinese guy came up to me and told me I couldn't dry my clothes there. I said, "These are coin-operated units. I'd like to pay to dry these clothes." He replied, "This is for wash and dry." I said, "Are you saying that because I didn't pay to wash them here, I can't pay to dry them here?" His head was shaking "no" before my sentence had gotten far enough for him to even know what I was saying, so I tried a different tack. I said, "Let me tell you my tale of woe. I just washed these clothes at the laundramat at the North end of town and an employee there went crazy and..."
But before I even got that far, he said, "Yes. There's a laundramat at the North end of town. You can dry them there."
I didn't waste any more time trying to communicate with this idiot. It would be one thing if he had said to me that he had a problem with too many locals bringing in clothes just to dry and that he couldn't really make an exception for anyone, but it is another when the guy is thick and doesn't comprehend what is being said to him, so I said, "I'm leaving" and did so. I was tempted to make a parting insult, but I'm certain he wouldn't have gotten it, so it would have been wasted.
I drove south about six miles and found another coin-op laundramat. This was fairly small and was running close to capacity. I figured I'd ask whomever was running the place if it was OK to dry wet laundry there, but while I'm sure that someone there was an employee, no one was wearing any kind of identifiable uniform
Nearly everyone in this place was Latin American, so this created something of an awkward social situation, in that, if I just went up to someone and asked if he worked there but he didn't, he might take it as an insult, figuring that the white guy thinks that all the Latin Americans are lowly common laborers, so I slinked on out and drove to a campground where I service the television reception and distribution system and dried my laundry there.
Who'd'a thunk something so mundane could become so contentious?
I've been using the same laundramat about once every two weeks for the last year and a half. I popped a load of laundry in a washer there late this afternoon and came back to move it into the dryer about an hour after the wash had stopped.
If this were a busy time for them, I would have been waiting for the washer to stop, and for that matter, if it had been a busy time, they would have taken the clothes out themselves, but I knew from previous visits that the machines would be running at well under 25% utilization, so no one would be inconvenienced by my leaving my completed load in there for an hour.
When I walked in the front door, a girl who I had never seen working there previously yelled to me, "The floor's wet!" I said, "I see that. My laundry is in that washer", and pointed at the fourth washer from the front of the line. She then yelled, "It stopped a minute ago". She meant an hour ago, but I understood that. Anyway, I said, "Are you telling me the floor is wet out of concern that I might slip on it, or because you don't want me to leave any footprints?"
At that point, she blew up and started yelling. "You could have gotten the clothes an hour ago. I don't want no trouble! Don't give me no trouble!". I calmly replied, "I don't think you understood my question. Is it alright if I remove the clothes, or do you want me to wait until the floor is drier?"
She again yelled, "Don't give me no trouble!", so instead of pushing one of the wicker-wire service carts in front of the dryer, I went to my truck and got the large plastic tub that I had brought the clothing in, to remove it and take it elsewhere. As soon as I stepped on the wet part of the floor, she went ballistic and was practically screaming, "Don't give me no trouble! Don't give me no trouble! You coulda got that laundry an hour ago".
I'll tell you, if she had gotten any closer to me, this would have actually been a threatening situation, of sorts, because even though I outweighed her by about 150 pounds, anyone can stab anyone, no matter what their size differential is, and I think she was on drugs and I wouldn't have put anything past her. Anyway. I briskly loaded my clothes into my tub and left without saying anything else to her.
I then drove south along this strip-mall district, figuring I'd find another laundramat, and, within a mile and a half, I did. It was much larger, much nicer and had longer hours. It also appeared to be professionally run, with a staffed service counter and related professional services available. I decided that this would become my new, regular laundramat.
I observed that the dryers were running at well under 50% utilization, so I surely wasn't inconveniencing any other customers who had to dry the loads that they had just washed.
But as soon as I started to load one dryer, this little Chinese guy came up to me and told me I couldn't dry my clothes there. I said, "These are coin-operated units. I'd like to pay to dry these clothes." He replied, "This is for wash and dry." I said, "Are you saying that because I didn't pay to wash them here, I can't pay to dry them here?" His head was shaking "no" before my sentence had gotten far enough for him to even know what I was saying, so I tried a different tack. I said, "Let me tell you my tale of woe. I just washed these clothes at the laundramat at the North end of town and an employee there went crazy and..."
But before I even got that far, he said, "Yes. There's a laundramat at the North end of town. You can dry them there."
I didn't waste any more time trying to communicate with this idiot. It would be one thing if he had said to me that he had a problem with too many locals bringing in clothes just to dry and that he couldn't really make an exception for anyone, but it is another when the guy is thick and doesn't comprehend what is being said to him, so I said, "I'm leaving" and did so. I was tempted to make a parting insult, but I'm certain he wouldn't have gotten it, so it would have been wasted.
I drove south about six miles and found another coin-op laundramat. This was fairly small and was running close to capacity. I figured I'd ask whomever was running the place if it was OK to dry wet laundry there, but while I'm sure that someone there was an employee, no one was wearing any kind of identifiable uniform
Nearly everyone in this place was Latin American, so this created something of an awkward social situation, in that, if I just went up to someone and asked if he worked there but he didn't, he might take it as an insult, figuring that the white guy thinks that all the Latin Americans are lowly common laborers, so I slinked on out and drove to a campground where I service the television reception and distribution system and dried my laundry there.
Who'd'a thunk something so mundane could become so contentious?
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