If you ask my friends and family what is the one thing I can’t live without, most will say burgers. I do love my burgers! I consider myself a connoisseur and an adventurer at the same time – always looking for new joints and recipes, tasty flavours and exotic gastro choices.
My colleagues at The Dairy Cleaners Bermondsey know not to call me during Friday lunch hours – Friday is “burger day”. I usually pick up a restaurant and treat myself to a feast – a whole menu (the fries are a must, come on now!) and a dessert on top of that, so I can barely move afterwards. The Friday I am going to tell you about was no different. I was sitting at a cosy table next to the front windows of the Gourmet Burger Kitchen at Waterloo Rd near the Southwark Underground station. I was just finishing a fabulous Korean BBQ Chicken burger with sweet potato fries, already picturing the chocolate cheesecake I was about to order when my phone rang.
Do you have those perfect moments in life when the stars align in your favour, the weather is perfect, you are having an excellent lunch, and you feel full of joy? The last thing you want in those preciously fleeting moments is your smartphone to buzz. My teenage daughter was at school, and even if she had a problem, she would first call her mom. Her mom, my better half, was busy running her upholstery store near Tabard Gardens. The only option left was my colleagues – and they knew better!
So I picked up my phone, ready to burst into an all-time rage rant, when I glanced at the screen. Weird, it was an unknown number. Customers had to go through our support centre, so this could not be a cleaning-related issue – or so I thought. Intrigued, I picked up.
“Hello, Frankie boy!” The sweet, playful voice sent shivers down my spine. I hadn’t heard it for years, but I could never mistake it for anyone else.
“Hello, Joe Rabbit!” Joe Rabbit was Joy-Anne Mills. We had a tempestuous high school relationship that didn’t end well, but as time passed and we matured, we managed to mend fences. Whenever we met at our random class reunions, we would joke about what would have happened if we had married as we planned at seventeen.
“Sorry to bother you, Francis, but I have a cleaning issue, and I know you work as a quality supervisor. I messaged your sister, and she sent me your phone. I hope it is OK.”
“It isn’t, actually”, I responded jokingly. “Friday is my burger day, and you interrupted me in the midst of a royal feast. And before ordering the dessert, too. Unacceptable!”
“You are incorrigible!” she sighed in mocked desperation.
“Do you still live near St James’s Church? Send me the address, and I can be there in less than an hour.”
“Are you serious? That would be great! Thank you!”
Joy-Anne was a very special person to me, but I would miss the chocolate cheesecake only for my wife, daughter, siblings and parents. So I stuffed myself like a Thanksgiving turkey and headed southeast across Bermondsey. After a rejuvenating 40-minute walk, I arrived at her apartment”building. “I wish my street were so leafy and quiet”, I thought while waiting for her to answer the doorbell.
We hadn’t seen each other for more than five years, so there was an awkward moment when she opened the door, but we quickly laughed it off and hugged. “I really appreciate you coming at such short notice. But I fear my house cleaner has ruined my kitchen, and I need an expert opinion.”
“Did she now?” I had heard that before. Customers see a stain on their floor or a black streak on the window, and they act as if it is the end of the world. “What company do you use?”
“Oh, Maya is not with a company – at least none that I know of. A colleague of mine recommended her, and I’ve had no problems with her so far. But you have to see my kitchen.”
When we stepped into the room, Joy pointed me to the marble countertop. I could immediately see why she was concerned. The once milky white surface was blotted with porous yellowish stains as if something had corroded right through the uppermost layer. I knew what had happened the moment I saw it, but I needed to be 100% certain and not make wild accusations.
“Could you please call your cleaner and ask her what detergent she used on the countertop?”
I took my phone out and made some close-up pictures of the damaged surface. Meanwhile, Joy was talking on the phone, and I could sense the conversation was not going well. It was another scenario I had seen throughout the years – a cleaner refusing to take responsibility for a mistake, even though it was obvious they had made one. Finally, Joy finished the call and gave me the name of the detergent. I knew the brand well, as well as the specific product. Unfortunately, my initial suspicion had been correct.
“Here is what happened”, I began explaining. “The detergent your cleaner has used is perfect for the bathroom. We usually use it to remove limescale or mould. The problem is you need an acid-based product to remove limescale. It is OK to apply it to terracotta – the surface is glazed, and the acid cannot corrode it. Marble is another thing. Its surface is porous, and its chemical composition makes it particularly susceptible to acid. I don’t mean to trash-talk your cleaner, but with all due respect, this is a rookie mistake.”
Joy hit the countertop with her fist and cursed. “So the countertop is ruined, and I have to get a new one, is what you are telling me?”
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. I know one of the best bathroom renovation technicians in London. He is also a wizard in marble rejuvenation, so if anyone can save your countertop, it’s my man Stan. I took the liberty to take a couple of pictures and sent them to him. Let’s see how he responds.”
Less than three minutes later, I got a call from Stan. “Frank, what mess have you made this time, buddy?”
“Not me, old boy. But one of my friend’s house cleaners has used an acid-based detergent on a marble countertop.”
“Oh, boy! They will never learn! Let me take a closer look. Let’s switch to video and move your phone as close to the spot as possible.”
I did what he asked me to and ten seconds later he announced: “OK, I saw enough. It’s bad but not catastrophic. I would have to see it live, but I can give your friend a 75% guarantee that we can rejuvenate it. It would cost three or four times less than getting a new one.”
“You are the man, Stan! I will give her your number so she can book an appointment.”
With that, my job at Joy’s was done. I couldn’t help but give her one last piece of advice. “Don’t be too hard on your cleaner. Remember, she did not do it on purpose. However, I would book a professional house cleaner from now – if you had one, their liability and insurance policy would cover your rejuvenation expenses.”
“Give me your company’s number, and I am booking you today!” Joy responded immediately.
So, helping a friend, gaining a new customer, and burning the burger and cheesecake calories in the process – I didn’t know I was so good at multitasking!