Canister vacuum-cleaner fiasco
And so concludes futile-attempt number-two in the tortured quest for a small, portable canister vacuum-cleaner to supplement the giant 454 in the basement.
The 454 (pictured) is the giant sucker in our housewide central-vacuum system.
Pictured is iteration #2. #1, a Nutone, lasted 17 years, but was burning out the motors — there are two.
We could have replaced the motors in #1, and probably should have, but #2 was only $200 more.
The first time our builder fired up #1, I said “it sounds like a 454-Chevy.” It was about four feet tall and 18 inches in diameter.
#2 sounds like #1, but doesn’t exhaust to the outdoors like #1. It has bags, but they’re not installed the same (they’re open-mouth; almost as big as Jack at full-volume).
The letdown is that changing bags in #2 may be messier than #1. We probably should have kept #1.
But a central-vac is inconvenient for certain jobs: e.g. cleaning inside cars — and we have a garage-outlet.
We got a bagless shop-vac for that, but hate it. Its filter clogs in no time, which drops suction to almost nothing.
On top of that, it makes an almighty racket, which we could accept if it worked.
-Foray number-one was the mighty Wal*Mart, supposedly the “best store in the entire universe.”
But contrary to the accepted famblee wisdom that “Wal*Mart has everything,” their array of vacuums was minimal. Most of what they had was uprights, about 15-20, that lined up looked like rejects from the Star-Wars cantina set.
In fact I could imagine them serenading Han and Chewbacca and Princess Lea and Luke before setting out across the galaxy in the Millennium Falcon in pursuit of evil-doers.
They had two wimpy canisters, one with a bag so tiny it would have had to be changed after one outing.
“So I thought Wal*Mart had everything, Jack;” said my wife. “I thought Wal*Mart was supposed to be the greatest store in the universe.”
A gigantical online search for canister alternatives ensued.
One result was the dreaded Sears, which had a canister-unit adjudged by Consumer-Reports to be a “best-buy:” incredible performance for only 300 smackaroos.
But unlike the typical cowed Dubya-worshipping REPUBLICAN American, just buying the thing online and hoping for the best, she had the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to wanna see it in-the-flesh.
This meant a trip to mighty Sears — and the all-powerful Tim Belknap of the mighty Mezz suggested there was a Sears at Eastview Mall, and that would be closer than the Sears I have gone to before at MarketPlace Mall in Henrietta.
But we had never been to Eastview before — no reason. So that meant finding the Sears in the maelstrom that is Eastview.
So yesterday (Friday, March 30, 2007), after the Canandaigua YMCA, we set out for Eastview.
Thankfully, Sears is an anchor-store at Eastview, meaning it occupies an entire wing. If I couldn’t have found it that easily, I would have gone to MarketPlace.
We then treaded gingerly into the store, and found the vacuum-cleaners after going through a Land’s-End section (what..........).
This wasn’t my gig; I could stand back and take in all the sordid developments.
“Is there something I can help you with?” a kindly salesman asked.
“Is this the (insert model-number here)?’ my wife asked; “on sale for $299.95?”
“Yes, this is it,” the salesman said. “What features were you looking for, ma’am?”
“Well, I prefer a bag — no bagless — and a bag big enough to not have to change it often.”
Everything on display had a motorized power-head for doing rugs.
“We don’t need that,” I said. “Anything without a power-head?”
“Well, all the canisters made nowadays have powerheads.”
What we were being shown was a whole-house vacuum-cleaner, but we already have the 454.
“I guess what will best fulfill your needs is this tiny bagless Dirt-Devil hand-held.
“Yeah, but I need a bag,” my wife said; “and if the vacuum-cleaner is small enough, I have to change the bag every use.”
(At this point the almighty Bluster-King weighs in noisily telling us “to conform.”)
A number of insanities stood out: “Let me show what great advances have been made in bagless technology.” The salesman disconnects a dirt-container from a bagless vacuum, and removes the cap as if to empty it. Dust pours all throughout the atmosphere.
“What’s that?” my wife cries. “Looks like dust to me. What sense does it make to have a HEPA-filter that filters out 99.9% of the dust, when you’re just throwing it back into the atmosphere when ya empty the thing?”
Insanity #2:
“Each of these units has a switch atop the power-head wand that disconnects the wand.”
“Yeah, but those are the plastical-switches everyone is complaining about in the unit-reviews,” my wife observed. “They break.”
“That’s right, ma’am,” the salesman said. “On two of the units on display here, the switches have already broken off (HMMMMMMMMMMMMM.....). The third one is more substantial, and may last longer.”
“People complain they have to attach the wand with duct-tape,” my wife said. Insanity #3:
“Make sure ya disconnect the power-head wand before ya store the thing in the closet. If ya have clothes hanging in there (HMMMMMMMMMNNNNN; what are closets for?), they can break the hose, and a replacement-hose is a ‘hundered’ bucks.”
So finally we walked out; contrary to REPUBLICAN desires, the salesman had lost the sale, or rather his merchandise had lost-the-sale for him — he was an awfully nice guy; not a viper.
“Thanks for showing us everything,” Linda said — he wasted about 20 minutes. I could barely contain my chuckling.
I’m walking outta here with gobs of material.
And so the tortured search continues.
 |
| The Keed. |
| WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! |
Pictured is iteration #2. #1, a Nutone, lasted 17 years, but was burning out the motors — there are two.
We could have replaced the motors in #1, and probably should have, but #2 was only $200 more.
The first time our builder fired up #1, I said “it sounds like a 454-Chevy.” It was about four feet tall and 18 inches in diameter.
#2 sounds like #1, but doesn’t exhaust to the outdoors like #1. It has bags, but they’re not installed the same (they’re open-mouth; almost as big as Jack at full-volume).
The letdown is that changing bags in #2 may be messier than #1. We probably should have kept #1.
But a central-vac is inconvenient for certain jobs: e.g. cleaning inside cars — and we have a garage-outlet.
We got a bagless shop-vac for that, but hate it. Its filter clogs in no time, which drops suction to almost nothing.
On top of that, it makes an almighty racket, which we could accept if it worked.
-Foray number-one was the mighty Wal*Mart, supposedly the “best store in the entire universe.”
But contrary to the accepted famblee wisdom that “Wal*Mart has everything,” their array of vacuums was minimal. Most of what they had was uprights, about 15-20, that lined up looked like rejects from the Star-Wars cantina set.
In fact I could imagine them serenading Han and Chewbacca and Princess Lea and Luke before setting out across the galaxy in the Millennium Falcon in pursuit of evil-doers.
They had two wimpy canisters, one with a bag so tiny it would have had to be changed after one outing.
“So I thought Wal*Mart had everything, Jack;” said my wife. “I thought Wal*Mart was supposed to be the greatest store in the universe.”
A gigantical online search for canister alternatives ensued.
One result was the dreaded Sears, which had a canister-unit adjudged by Consumer-Reports to be a “best-buy:” incredible performance for only 300 smackaroos.
But unlike the typical cowed Dubya-worshipping REPUBLICAN American, just buying the thing online and hoping for the best, she had the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to wanna see it in-the-flesh.
This meant a trip to mighty Sears — and the all-powerful Tim Belknap of the mighty Mezz suggested there was a Sears at Eastview Mall, and that would be closer than the Sears I have gone to before at MarketPlace Mall in Henrietta.
But we had never been to Eastview before — no reason. So that meant finding the Sears in the maelstrom that is Eastview.
So yesterday (Friday, March 30, 2007), after the Canandaigua YMCA, we set out for Eastview.
Thankfully, Sears is an anchor-store at Eastview, meaning it occupies an entire wing. If I couldn’t have found it that easily, I would have gone to MarketPlace.
We then treaded gingerly into the store, and found the vacuum-cleaners after going through a Land’s-End section (what..........).
This wasn’t my gig; I could stand back and take in all the sordid developments.
“Is there something I can help you with?” a kindly salesman asked.
“Is this the (insert model-number here)?’ my wife asked; “on sale for $299.95?”
“Yes, this is it,” the salesman said. “What features were you looking for, ma’am?”
“Well, I prefer a bag — no bagless — and a bag big enough to not have to change it often.”
Everything on display had a motorized power-head for doing rugs.
“We don’t need that,” I said. “Anything without a power-head?”
“Well, all the canisters made nowadays have powerheads.”
What we were being shown was a whole-house vacuum-cleaner, but we already have the 454.
“I guess what will best fulfill your needs is this tiny bagless Dirt-Devil hand-held.
“Yeah, but I need a bag,” my wife said; “and if the vacuum-cleaner is small enough, I have to change the bag every use.”
(At this point the almighty Bluster-King weighs in noisily telling us “to conform.”)
A number of insanities stood out:
“What’s that?” my wife cries. “Looks like dust to me. What sense does it make to have a HEPA-filter that filters out 99.9% of the dust, when you’re just throwing it back into the atmosphere when ya empty the thing?”
“Each of these units has a switch atop the power-head wand that disconnects the wand.”
“Yeah, but those are the plastical-switches everyone is complaining about in the unit-reviews,” my wife observed. “They break.”
“That’s right, ma’am,” the salesman said. “On two of the units on display here, the switches have already broken off (HMMMMMMMMMMMMM.....). The third one is more substantial, and may last longer.”
“People complain they have to attach the wand with duct-tape,” my wife said.
“Make sure ya disconnect the power-head wand before ya store the thing in the closet. If ya have clothes hanging in there (HMMMMMMMMMNNNNN; what are closets for?), they can break the hose, and a replacement-hose is a ‘hundered’ bucks.”
So finally we walked out; contrary to REPUBLICAN desires, the salesman had lost the sale, or rather his merchandise had lost-the-sale for him — he was an awfully nice guy; not a viper.
“Thanks for showing us everything,” Linda said — he wasted about 20 minutes. I could barely contain my chuckling.
I’m walking outta here with gobs of material.
And so the tortured search continues.
Eastview actually isn’t in the county Rochester is in — it’s just over-the-line in adjacent Ontario County.
MarketPlace, the largest, is near Rochester in Monroe County, and is atop the old Hylan Airport, a small FBO once owned by Ray Hylan.
All the malls made downtown Rochester a wasteland (“waist-land?”).
posted by BobbaLew at 11:39 AM
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