D.I.

It was a beautiful Friday morning. We got up early in order to be at DI by 8:00 AM. for a service assignment. Neither Randy or I had ever done this before and we anticipated learning the "inside" of how DI functions.

When we walked in through the VIP door, it was obviously the vacuum hour. We found ourselves yelling to communicate. We were led to an office door and presented to the secretary. We signed in, were given an official DI apron and color code chart to fit in the pocket. Another couple from our ward joined us. (This would be fun. We could work with our partners. . . NOT!) One by one we were separated and ushered to deep unknowns of this huge facility. Luckily, being the only one left, they found a place for me in the woman's department. (Yesss!) I felt safe there, unlike Randy, who they took deep inside a maze to the "used toy never, never land". (This wasn't a good experience for him!)

I was introduced to the department manager, who had to think hard for something for me to do. Finally, after slowly scanning the place and scratching his chin, he said, "Come 'ere", and motioned to follow him to the "back". Past a huge dry cleaning room that took my breath away because of the humidity, we ended up at a maintenance room. Vacuums, duster sticks, etc. He pushed a vacuum towards me to grab and thankfully led me back out - or I would still be lost in there! I was to join in the chorus of vacuums running. He pointed to a big area of floor. I could handle that.

Carefully I suctioned up every little piece of lint,(surprisingly it was already very well kept). But in my serious cleaning quest, I became aware of another vacuum girl. She was unstoppable as she rounded the corner and kept on rolling, right over the carpet I had just finished. I was confused. Finally I said, "I think we're vacuuming the same areas." I was surprised when she mumbled something inaudible and kept vacuuming. She made no eye contact. No "oh, sorry." With her head down, she just continued to vacuum as if on auto pilot. I actually had to stand back to study her vacuum compared to mine. Did mine only picked up certain kinds of dirt? Was hers a specialized DI vacuum? No. The same vacuum. I was puzzled.

So, I wrapped up my cord and rolled the vacuum back to the manager, explaining the situation. He said, "Don't mind her, she does whatever she wants." I wasn't about to ask questions as I followed him back to the cleaning room again and we traded the vacuum in for a big handled duster on a stick. As we were exiting the double doors, I was surprised to see"vacuum girl", entering. Again, no eye contact was made on her part. No speaking. Just autopilot. I didn't know what to think.
I was to dust off the glass rounders, starting from a certain area in the mens department. I could handle that.

Minding my own "no dust" business, I couldn't help but notice "vacuum girl" coming back out those doors. She seemed to flaunt proudly as she walked by with her own . . . big handled duster on a stick! My reaction? I'm embarrassed to confess. I'm afraid my rusty attitude showed as I felt my nose turn up and my eyes look away. That's when it hit me. I was treating her like I had been treated. It didn't feel right. So I kept my eye on her and at least made sure we didn't over lap. I made my section shine.

Finishing that job, I was escorted back to the womans department. The department manager introduced me to Cindy - "vacuum girl"! She appeared from behind a stack of clothes in the dressing room. I hardly think she saw me. "If there are any questions, Cindy will know the answers", he said. Up until now, I didn't think she even had a voice. I wasn't sure about the situation at all. I was still trying to figure her out. But I was pleasantly surprised when she spoke clearly and helpfully. I had questions from time to time, but at least she acknowledged me. We worked hard. The time went by fast. We organized clothes off of many racks brought out from the back by Cindy. Soon it was 12:00. I was finished with my shift.

It's funny when I first met her she was so unfriendly. But after the vacuum and long handled dusting stick episodes, she didn't seem so bad. Now that I was leaving I didn't feel like just sneaking away. Something in me made me want to thank her and let her know it was good working with her. So I called her attention to the time and made sure she knew I was leaving. In a way, I felt like I would miss her. She looked up and actually looked at me back. I think her eyes sparkled a little. She also was surprised the time had flown by. And she thanked me, too.
I felt better. I still wasn't proud of my reaction to her coldness that morning. but I did learn a valuable lesson.

I don't want to be a "vacuum girl".