The sun was beaming through the
window of the library as Jon walked the building early in the morning before
school started. He was unlocking rooms and getting school ready before classes
started in another hour or so. With a
skip in his step, Jon felt good. It was going to be a good day. It was Friday, and the sun was out. What more
could you ask.
As
Jon passed rows and rows of books lining the library shelves with topics ranging
from science to fantasy to reference books on myriads of subjects, he noticed a
black spot on the carpet near the end of one of the bookshelves. Jon stopped in his tracks. The spot appeared
to be a spider. Spiders didn’t worry Jon
too much, but he wasn’t real fond of them either. Cautiously he inched forward wary that the
arachnid might launch itself off the floor and onto his face wherein tiny
spider fangs would sink into his skin and cause an infection or give him some
hideous scar. When he was within a
couple of feet, Jon exhaled a sigh of relief realizing that this wasn’t a
spider after all. It was just a black
spot on the carpet.
Must be a piece of paper,” Jon thought.
He
reached down to pick it up, but all his fingers touched were carpet fibers,
nylon carpet fibers.
What in the world, Jon muttered to
himself.
Jon
got down on his hands and knees to examine the spot closer. Gently picking at the fiber, Jon’s mind realized
that this was some spot of something, but he didn’t know what. Mud?
Paint? Marker? Mold? Jon prayed
it wasn’t mold. Mold was a four-letter
word, literally, but metaphorically as well. Jon knew that you did not want to
mention mold and school in the same sentence.
That just opened another can of worms.
Jon
stood up and stretched his back. He
glanced at the digital clock on the wall.
It was surrounded by posters portraying all sorts of things. Movie ads, school-related quips,
encouragement to read more and use technology wisely and so on. Ignoring all of
that, Jon’s eyes focused on the time. 7:09 a.m. School started at 8:15 a.m. He
had time.
Jon
finished his rounds in quick order and then stopped at his office to grab some
spotter a few rags and a couple other carpet cleaning items. Should
be quick work dealing with this spot, he thought. Jon re-entered the library, cleaning
chemicals in hand. Kneeling on the
carpet next to the black spot, Jon prepped his tools. Opening the spotter bottle, Jon carefully
poured some on a rag. He then gently dabbed the black spot which was about the
size of a pea. Picking up the rag, Jon
noticed a lot of black had transferred from the carpet to the rag. Great! He
thought. This should take no time at
all.
Jon
added a little more spotter to the rag and dabbed it again. More black appeared
on the rag, but the spot had now begun to grow. Jon’s forehead wrinkled with
concern. The pea-sized spot was now just
a little smaller than a dime. The black
color had not lessened any either. It was still just as dark as night. He put some more spotter on his rag and dabbed
it again. This time the spot grew to
about the size of a penny and blacker residue befriended the rag.
Why is this growing and not coming out, Jon
mumbled.
This
time, to speed up the process and take care of this spot quickly, Jon squirted
the spotter directly on the carpet. As
he did so, the spot grew larger. It was
now the size of a quarter and just as black as before. Jon panicked. Then it hit him.
This must be ink.
Now
Jon was worried. Ink was a pain to
remove and to do so properly, one needed to use an extractor with water to
rinse and suck the ink out of the carpet while the spotter broke it down. If this was not done, then the ink spot would
spread bigger and bigger. Jon thought about it for a minute. He then decided he could probably take care
of this spot with a rag by blotting and stepping on the rag to transfer the
liquified ink into the microfiber material.
So, Jon squirted more spotter on the black spot.
When
Jon did so, the ink spot grew again.
Quickly, he placed the rag over the spot and began putting weight on it
to transfer the ink to the rag. Removing
the rag, Jon noted that some of the ink had indeed transferred to the rag and
was beginning to disappear. He added a
bit more spotter and repeated the process. Again, the rag absorbed more ink.
Jon’s heart slowed a beat as he began to relax with the assurance that the ink
might just be removed more easily than he thought. He continued this process for another five
minutes. The ink continued to lighten, but not completely. Jon decided to try a
different spotter.
Carefully
squirting the next spotter in his carpet cleaning arsenal on the spot, Jon
watched as the black spot bloomed darker once more. This spotter had more
“kick” and had loosened more ink molecules than the previous spotter. Ink that had been absorbed by the carpet
backing was now being released without hindrance into the carpet fibers. Capillary action was pulling the ink from the
back to the tips of the fibers. Jon’s heart picked up a beat. Quickly he began
blotting the spot with his rag. Drops of
sweat fell to the dark void and quickly disappeared as if they were being
absorbed by a man-made black hole. Jon
continued working feverishly to remove the spot knowing full well that he
really, really needed to get the extractor.
But his pride and determination moved him to continue with his quest.
“Hey
Jon! What’s up?”
The
voice of the school principal, Vance, was not what Jon wanted to hear. A fear
gripped Jon like some hand around the neck of a deadly snake whom one didn’t
dare let go of for fear of being bitten.
“Hi
Vance. Just cleaning up a spot here on
the carpet.”
Fortunately,
Jon had the spot covered with the rag, so Vance did not see the full extent of
the ink spot underneath. The spot was now the size of a small pancake.
“Always
appreciate your determination and pride in taking care of our school. You keep it looking great despite the
constant use and wear and tear it receives.
Keep up the excellent work!”
Vance’s
face emitted rays of positivity as he beamed at Jon on his knees.
“Don’t
mind me,” Vance said. “I have a couple
things to look at before a meeting with the School Board.”
Vance
sat down at a table near Jon and opened his laptop.
Jon’s
anxiety ratcheted up several notches like a thermometer dropped in boiling
water. He just wanted to finish this job
and be done with it. Turning back to his
task at hand, Jon squirted more spotter on the ink. Then he began to use a tamping brush to “pull”
the ink to the surface of the carpet where he could blot it up. With quick, swift snaps of his wrist, Jon
tamped the ink and watched it get darker and darker. He blotted more ink. Then he added more spotter and tamped
again. He repeated this process several
times. The ink lightened, but still had
a dark hue to it. Jon stopped to
rest.
Stretching
his back and neck, Jon closed his eyes as he tipped his head back and forced
his chest forward to create an arch in his back. Several “pops” and “cracks”
occurred as his back straightened out.
Leaning forward and opening his eyes, Jon’s heart almost popped out of
his chest and onto the floor. Sitting in
front of him at the table, his back to Jon was Vance. On the back of Vance’s light tan suit pants
were a multitude of little black spots that made them look like spotted leopard
legs. In his haste to finish removing
the ink and because of his constant tamping of the ink spot, he did not realize
that tiny droplets of ink had been flying and landing on Vance’s pant legs.
Vance had no idea what had happened since the spots were so light he would
never feel then landing on his clothes.
Jon was horrified. What should he
do?
At
that moment Vance stood up and stretched.
Looking
at his watch he said, “Time to get going.
Meeting starts in five in the conference room. Good seeing you Jon. Thanks again for all your hard work.”
Stammering,
Jon replied, “Thanks. I try.”
Vance
picked up his laptop and walked toward the door. Jon’s deflated heart fell to
the bottom of his ribcage as he watched the Leopard-Legged Administrator walk
out the door. He had no idea what Vance
would say or do when he found the spots.
Giving
up on the idea that he’d be able to remove the spot with just rags and spotters,
Jon clambered to his feet and went to get his extractor. Walking across the new
white area rug that was decorated with beautiful animals and fauna which had
been donated by an African school group that had visited his building the week
before, Jon walked out the door.
Reaching
his office and equipment storage area, he filled up the extractor, grabbed the
wand and some more rags, picked up more spotters, grabbed a high-speed blower
to dry the rug when finished and walked back to the library.
As he opened the
door, his eyes were drawn to the area rug like metal orbs to a powerful magnet.
He couldn’t move them. They were riveted to the carpet as if a tractor beam
were pulling them toward its surface.
Right across the middle of the rug were large, black footprints. As his eyes moved slightly upward to focus on
the ink spot, he noted those same footprints on the library carpet. Jon
suddenly realized that he’d stepped in the ink spot when he went to get the
extractor and that he’d inadvertently tracked the ink out the door. Turning to
look behind him, he could see the ever-lightening footprints he’d made a few
minutes before. Jon almost puked.
Jon
gave himself a few minutes to get composed and then set to work. First, he began extracting the carpet with
water. Rinse after rinse removed more
and more ink. He used his spotters and
tamping brush several times loosening the ink and then ran the extractor over
the area to rinse it thoroughly.
Repeating this for 10 to 15 minutes, Jon was able to remove enough of
the ink that it was almost completely gone.
There would always be some ink that had permanently stained the fibers
that would never come out, but for the most part it looked clean. Jon then set up a blower and turning it on he
thought about Bernoulli’s Law that was now at work. That law stated that air moving over the
surface of the carpet would create less surface pressure which in turn would
allow the moisture to rise to the surface where it would be vaporized as it was
whisked away into the surrounding air.
Unfortunately, several magazines and flyers were also affected and blew
off the shelves and all over the floor.
Jon repositioned the blower and cleaned up the mess. Now to cleaning the area rug.
Jon
started working on the darkest of the spots.
Again, he used spotters, the tamping brush and the extractor. The first
spot was the darkest, so Jon had to use more spotter than succeeding spots
would dictate needed to be used. As Jon
squirted spotter, tamped and extracted, the spot started fading. After another five minutes, Jon could see the
spot disappearing. He also noted on the
last stroke of his extractor wand across the affected area that several carpet
fibers suddenly pulled out of the carpet and whooshed up the wand and into the
extraction waste tank.
“Holy”,
Jon didn’t finish his defamatory outburst.
A large hole gaped at Jon. Ragged
along the edges, it was the size and relative shape of a shoe. Jon was flabbergasted. What had happened?
Jon
stopped, paralyzed and too stunned to move.
Thoughts raced through his mind like rocks being skipped across a
pond. And then one stone hit a tree limb
in his minds pond and bounced off the inside of his skull. This area rug was a high-end rug from another
country. Most expensive rugs had to be
cleaned with special cleaners. His use
of spotters and water had over-saturated the backing thus releasing the carpet
fibers. His last wand stroke and the
power of the suction had literally pulled the fibers right out of the backing.
The backing would eventually begin to dry and in doing so would shrink leaving
ripples in the surface. Jon’s heart fell through his ribcage and into his
acid-filled stomach. Waves of nausea
swept from his gut to his head. Jon had
ruined an expensive gift from Africa!
Jon
reached down and grabbed the end of the area rug. He was going to remove it and take it to his
office. Maybe he could find someone who could repair it, or maybe he could find
a replacement online. As he faced the library door and lifted the opposite end
of the rug, his face suddenly appeared in the hole he’d created as he lifted
the rug into the air. At the same time Vance
walked back in.
“Holy”. Vance didn’t finish his sentence. He stood staring
at Jon’s face framed in the hole in the rug. Animals of all kinds woven into the carpet fabric
surrounded Jon’s deer-in-the-headlights face.
“I
know”, Jon said sheepishly. “There’s ink on the carpet.”
“No”,
Vance exclaimed, “I mean there’s a huge hole in the rug.”
Jon
didn’t answer. He just rolled up the rug
as Vance walked toward him. Vance’s eyes
could have burned holes in the rug bigger than the one Jon had created. He stared at Jon. Jon stared back.
“I’ll
get it fixed or replaced”, he said.
“It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Vance’s
face reddened to the point that Jon thought he might explode like a ripe tomato
being stepped on. What made things worse
was that Vance said nothing else. He
just turned and walked away. Jon watched
as the Leopard-Legged Administrator left the room.
Jon
turned to pick up his equipment and roll up the rug when he heard a distant
voice in the hallway.
“Hey
Vance. I like your pants. Is today a practical joke day I wasn’t aware
of?”
“What?”
Vance queried. “What are you talking
about?”
“Your
pants. They look like cat spots. Are you supposed to be half-cat half-human?”
“I
don’t have…What the!”
Vance’s
exclamatory howl at seeing his pants speckled with ink reverberated down the
hallway. As loud as it was, it could
probably be heard all over the school without the use of the intercom
system.
Jon’s
heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings knowing Vance would come looking for him.
Leaning down to pick up the rest of his stuff as quickly as possible, Jon heard
the animalistic cry of anger and frustration beckoning to him from the
hallway.
“Jon!
Jon E. Mopp! We need to talk, now!”
Jon
finished picking up his stuff and laid the holy rug on his extractor. Then,
scurrying as fast as possible, Jon headed out the back door of the
library. He perused his surroundings
with rapid eye movements that would be the envy of a chipmunk who’d drunk too
much caffeine. Then he spotted it. The John Deere Gator parked about 50 feet
away. Quickly he moved all his equipment
to the Gator, loaded it into the back with bullet-like speed, jumped in and
started it and headed back to his office.
This was one time he WAS NOT going to face Vance until things had cooled
down. He did not want to deal with
confrontation or belittling now. He felt
bad enough and needed time to chill.
Stopping on the accelerator, Jon took off. In his rearview mirror he saw
Vance’s tomato-colored face pop out from behind the library emergency exit door
and saw his arm raised in anger as his form shrunk in size. Jon’s day could not have gotten any
worse. Or could it?
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