LJ Idol Season 7 Week 3 - Got a Little Somethin' Guaranteed to Ease Your Mind
o/` "Ladies and gentlemen, attention please
Come in close so everyone can see
I got a tale to tell
A listen don't cost a dime
And if you believe that we're gonna get along just fine" o/`
-- "Snake Oil" performed by Steve Earle
A few years ago, when I lived out on Cape Anne in Massachusetts, they'd had a major failure of the water treatment and delivery system. Since Boston is one of the United States' oldest metro areas, the infrastructure could not always be depended upon. Rather than do without, the resourceful fishermen of the Cape had begun hauling water out of the harbor there and running it through an ancient saline treatment plant. The resulting brown sludge which had coursed out of the taps, they assured me, did not present a health hazard until and unless it turned black.
This smelled far worse.
Sulfur and lime permeated everything --- our clothes, skin, and hair reeked of it, though no one else seemed to notice. When I mentioned it my Florida-born husband shrugged philosophically and said, "The water is hard. What did you expect when the water table is mere feet below us and protected by calcium and limestone deposits!"
"The contractors said they were drilling anartesian well," I argued. "Shouldn't the water be of better quality?" Out where I'd come from, an artesian well meant you were guaranteed pure drinking water, uncontaminated by surface pollution. Such wells went deep beneath the hard rock and sometimes down hundreds of feet before hitting a water pocket fed by underground springs and untainted snow melt. I remembered those from which I'd drunk with a nostalgic longing. The water came out of the pipes clear and cold no matter how hot the summer had been; it took little enough to quench your thirst but you wanted more because it tasted so good, often bearing just the right hint of earthiness reminiscent of the mountains down which it had originally traveled.
"It's perfectly good water," Mr. Shapeshifter responded defensively. "You just don't understand how Florida's aquifer works, that's all."
"Yeah, I do," I muttered to myself, "Florida cut one and now it's pouring out of our water tap." I did not, however, articulate that particular thought as he would feel compelled to defend his beloved state and, by proxy, his Southern honor. I must have hesitated just a little too long, though, because he treated me to a long, involved lecture on how the Floridan aquifer works.
We had lived at FoxHeart Acres for two months when even he could not help notice the wear and tear that the hard water inflicted on clothing and appliances. A nasty looking dark brown ring which could not be removed colored sinks, toilets, dishwasher, and washing machine; the clothes stiffened, material became brittle, and they tore more easily. The dishes and shower stall acquired a permanent limestone scale which no amount of scrubbing, chemical washes, or water additives could counter. Our American Eskimo dog's fur, which had been white, turned an unattractive shade of piss yellow. My own hair, my one vanity, looked as though I never bothered washing it. Still, I supposed it a small price to pay for privacy and land. The water might stink to high heaven, but it was my water, damn it all, and I didn't have to pay the city for it. It would never run out, it would never have PFCs in it, it would never....aw, who was I kidding? It still stank.
I secretly pondered how this untenable situation might be resolved or somehow made more tolerable but I had no idea how I might accomplish that until the salesman called.
Our land line had just been run to the house so answering the phone when it rang still gave me a pleasurable thrill. I didn't care who was on the other end of the line; I adored answering crisply, "FoxHeart Acres, this is the Shapeshifter residence. How may I help you?"
The earnest young man begged pardon for interrupting my housekeeping routine and explained he represented Rainsoft, which sold water filtration, softening, and treatment systems. "We received a list of new well owners from contracted sources," he explained, "and if you'll permit, I would like to come out and demonstrate the benefits a Rainsoft system could give your household." He explained the various demonstration tests used; it sounded like something out of one of my high school physics experiments. Mr. Shapeshifter liked science and I figured this would be a harmless way to pass what would otherwise be a rather boring Saturday morning. I allowed the young man to make the appointment and then informed Mr. Shapeshifter we would be having company.
"You don't need to buy anything," I cautioned him. "I just thought you might like to see the demonstrations since you like science so much."
He smiled a little boy smile and replied, "Don't worry, Kitty, I'm not that naive. It sounds like fun."
I had just finished my second cup of coffee and cleared the breakfast dishes, which were soaking in the sink, when a knock sounded on the door. Mr. Shapeshifter answered it and let in a nervous looking, thin young man in blue flannel and faded jeans. He carried with him a bunch of brochures and what looked like a small chemistry set. "If you have well water," he announced in a sepulchral voice, "you have hard water. If you have hard water, you're shortening the longevity of your large appliances and" his voice dropped to a quavering, confidential whisper "you could even be endangering your health! Here, take a look."
The first brochure he handed us explained the dangers of drinking unfiltered, hardened water --- it aggravated skin conditions like psoriasis, made your hair fall out, clogged arteries, caused you to waste cleaning products, left residue in clothing and on dishes, caused kidney stones, and potentially exposed you to toxins or overdoses of minerals*. He went over to the tap, drew off a vial of yellowish water, and then added a few drops of something to it. It turned a deep blackish-blue color. "Your water is so hard out here it doesn't even measure on the pH scale," the young man declared. "Now watch, this is what a softener does for your water." A few more drops from the chemistry set, a shake...and the water miraculously began to clear. Within a few moments, the water itself was clear but a nasty sludge lay in the bottom of the test tube. "That's all the calcium, magnesium, sand, and other mineral deposits present in your water." He wrinkled his nose, an expression which Mr. Shapeshifter unconsciously mirrored. "Ah, I thought not. Now watch this!" He filled a beaker from the tap and showed us an ordinary bottle labeled as a name brand dish soap. "Just a few drops --- so--- and this piece of cheesecloth to represent your clothes." He mimicked the actions of a washing machine using a glass rod to agitate the water, soap, and clothes. "Look at that nasty grey water and your clothes are sitting in it. Yuck! Furthermore, behold!" He yanked the piece of cloth out of the water and dropped it into another beaker of water from our tap. After sousing it up and down for a few minutes, a thin slimy film formed on top of the water. The cloth he pulled out with the glass rod looked much the worse for wear. It had turned the color of an armpit stain. "In a few months your favorite shirt is toast! Now, if you were to wash in soft water..." A repeat of the same demonstration yielded no grey water, no shredded cloth, and no slime. "Just think, that stuff is also sitting on your skin."
As the demonstration and sales pitch wore on, I began to get irritated. I had other things I wanted to do which I could not finish until our 'guest' left the house. Every time I suggested we'd want to think it over and would like him to leave, the young man pushed for the sale. He even offered a substantial gift card should we allow him to finish his pitch and offered to throw in a year's worth of cleaning supplies. The salesman invited us to feel and taste the difference between softened water and our own tap water. I could see Mr. Shapeshifter seriously considering signing the contract. The cost of the water softener seemed high to me, especially since the salesman insisted that it would also require other add-ons to make the water safe enough...what amounted to an entire water treatment system, really. "What do you think, hon?" Mr. Shapeshifter asked me eagerly. His eyes shown with a desire to make his new wife happy.
We hadn't been married that long, but I knew what a good Southern wife ought to do. I smiled demurely and said, "It's up to you. Do what you think will be best." In his ear I whispered, "At least do a price comparison. Remember, you don't have to buy anything."
I excused myself and when I returned, I was surprised to see Mr. Shapeshifter signing a contract. A sense of foreboding overtook me but the damage was already done. He'd made it a legally binding agreement.
That was in 2003. The water treatment system cost us $9200 dollars; its retail value was perhaps $2500 tops. Furthermore, the technician they sent out to install it knew nothing about rural water systems. In the next hurricane, all $9200 of it got turned into an expensive pile of junk when the well de-pressurized as its pump lost power. The main filtration tank collapsed in the ensuing vacuum and winds took care of the rest. We are still finding pieces of the damned thing as we clear out the forest behind the house...and we just paid it off a year ago. Rainsoft, once the contract was signed, denied all liability and continued calling us to ask about a replacement (at our cost, of course) and/or softener supplies for up to three years afterward.
An expensive trap, to say the least, but a lesson hard learned. We don't do business with anyone making cold calls, especially when it comes to contracting or plumbing work.
* Hard water doesn't actually do most of these things. There is some evidence that it may shorten the lifespan of appliances such as the hot water tank and the dishwasher, but nothing has been conclusively proven.
Written for season seven of therealljidol. I will link to the poll when it goes up.
Come in close so everyone can see
I got a tale to tell
A listen don't cost a dime
And if you believe that we're gonna get along just fine" o/`
-- "Snake Oil" performed by Steve Earle
A few years ago, when I lived out on Cape Anne in Massachusetts, they'd had a major failure of the water treatment and delivery system. Since Boston is one of the United States' oldest metro areas, the infrastructure could not always be depended upon. Rather than do without, the resourceful fishermen of the Cape had begun hauling water out of the harbor there and running it through an ancient saline treatment plant. The resulting brown sludge which had coursed out of the taps, they assured me, did not present a health hazard until and unless it turned black.
This smelled far worse.
Sulfur and lime permeated everything --- our clothes, skin, and hair reeked of it, though no one else seemed to notice. When I mentioned it my Florida-born husband shrugged philosophically and said, "The water is hard. What did you expect when the water table is mere feet below us and protected by calcium and limestone deposits!"
"The contractors said they were drilling anartesian well," I argued. "Shouldn't the water be of better quality?" Out where I'd come from, an artesian well meant you were guaranteed pure drinking water, uncontaminated by surface pollution. Such wells went deep beneath the hard rock and sometimes down hundreds of feet before hitting a water pocket fed by underground springs and untainted snow melt. I remembered those from which I'd drunk with a nostalgic longing. The water came out of the pipes clear and cold no matter how hot the summer had been; it took little enough to quench your thirst but you wanted more because it tasted so good, often bearing just the right hint of earthiness reminiscent of the mountains down which it had originally traveled.
"It's perfectly good water," Mr. Shapeshifter responded defensively. "You just don't understand how Florida's aquifer works, that's all."
"Yeah, I do," I muttered to myself, "Florida cut one and now it's pouring out of our water tap." I did not, however, articulate that particular thought as he would feel compelled to defend his beloved state and, by proxy, his Southern honor. I must have hesitated just a little too long, though, because he treated me to a long, involved lecture on how the Floridan aquifer works.
We had lived at FoxHeart Acres for two months when even he could not help notice the wear and tear that the hard water inflicted on clothing and appliances. A nasty looking dark brown ring which could not be removed colored sinks, toilets, dishwasher, and washing machine; the clothes stiffened, material became brittle, and they tore more easily. The dishes and shower stall acquired a permanent limestone scale which no amount of scrubbing, chemical washes, or water additives could counter. Our American Eskimo dog's fur, which had been white, turned an unattractive shade of piss yellow. My own hair, my one vanity, looked as though I never bothered washing it. Still, I supposed it a small price to pay for privacy and land. The water might stink to high heaven, but it was my water, damn it all, and I didn't have to pay the city for it. It would never run out, it would never have PFCs in it, it would never....aw, who was I kidding? It still stank.
I secretly pondered how this untenable situation might be resolved or somehow made more tolerable but I had no idea how I might accomplish that until the salesman called.
Our land line had just been run to the house so answering the phone when it rang still gave me a pleasurable thrill. I didn't care who was on the other end of the line; I adored answering crisply, "FoxHeart Acres, this is the Shapeshifter residence. How may I help you?"
The earnest young man begged pardon for interrupting my housekeeping routine and explained he represented Rainsoft, which sold water filtration, softening, and treatment systems. "We received a list of new well owners from contracted sources," he explained, "and if you'll permit, I would like to come out and demonstrate the benefits a Rainsoft system could give your household." He explained the various demonstration tests used; it sounded like something out of one of my high school physics experiments. Mr. Shapeshifter liked science and I figured this would be a harmless way to pass what would otherwise be a rather boring Saturday morning. I allowed the young man to make the appointment and then informed Mr. Shapeshifter we would be having company.
"You don't need to buy anything," I cautioned him. "I just thought you might like to see the demonstrations since you like science so much."
He smiled a little boy smile and replied, "Don't worry, Kitty, I'm not that naive. It sounds like fun."
I had just finished my second cup of coffee and cleared the breakfast dishes, which were soaking in the sink, when a knock sounded on the door. Mr. Shapeshifter answered it and let in a nervous looking, thin young man in blue flannel and faded jeans. He carried with him a bunch of brochures and what looked like a small chemistry set. "If you have well water," he announced in a sepulchral voice, "you have hard water. If you have hard water, you're shortening the longevity of your large appliances and" his voice dropped to a quavering, confidential whisper "you could even be endangering your health! Here, take a look."
The first brochure he handed us explained the dangers of drinking unfiltered, hardened water --- it aggravated skin conditions like psoriasis, made your hair fall out, clogged arteries, caused you to waste cleaning products, left residue in clothing and on dishes, caused kidney stones, and potentially exposed you to toxins or overdoses of minerals*. He went over to the tap, drew off a vial of yellowish water, and then added a few drops of something to it. It turned a deep blackish-blue color. "Your water is so hard out here it doesn't even measure on the pH scale," the young man declared. "Now watch, this is what a softener does for your water." A few more drops from the chemistry set, a shake...and the water miraculously began to clear. Within a few moments, the water itself was clear but a nasty sludge lay in the bottom of the test tube. "That's all the calcium, magnesium, sand, and other mineral deposits present in your water." He wrinkled his nose, an expression which Mr. Shapeshifter unconsciously mirrored. "Ah, I thought not. Now watch this!" He filled a beaker from the tap and showed us an ordinary bottle labeled as a name brand dish soap. "Just a few drops --- so--- and this piece of cheesecloth to represent your clothes." He mimicked the actions of a washing machine using a glass rod to agitate the water, soap, and clothes. "Look at that nasty grey water and your clothes are sitting in it. Yuck! Furthermore, behold!" He yanked the piece of cloth out of the water and dropped it into another beaker of water from our tap. After sousing it up and down for a few minutes, a thin slimy film formed on top of the water. The cloth he pulled out with the glass rod looked much the worse for wear. It had turned the color of an armpit stain. "In a few months your favorite shirt is toast! Now, if you were to wash in soft water..." A repeat of the same demonstration yielded no grey water, no shredded cloth, and no slime. "Just think, that stuff is also sitting on your skin."
As the demonstration and sales pitch wore on, I began to get irritated. I had other things I wanted to do which I could not finish until our 'guest' left the house. Every time I suggested we'd want to think it over and would like him to leave, the young man pushed for the sale. He even offered a substantial gift card should we allow him to finish his pitch and offered to throw in a year's worth of cleaning supplies. The salesman invited us to feel and taste the difference between softened water and our own tap water. I could see Mr. Shapeshifter seriously considering signing the contract. The cost of the water softener seemed high to me, especially since the salesman insisted that it would also require other add-ons to make the water safe enough...what amounted to an entire water treatment system, really. "What do you think, hon?" Mr. Shapeshifter asked me eagerly. His eyes shown with a desire to make his new wife happy.
We hadn't been married that long, but I knew what a good Southern wife ought to do. I smiled demurely and said, "It's up to you. Do what you think will be best." In his ear I whispered, "At least do a price comparison. Remember, you don't have to buy anything."
I excused myself and when I returned, I was surprised to see Mr. Shapeshifter signing a contract. A sense of foreboding overtook me but the damage was already done. He'd made it a legally binding agreement.
That was in 2003. The water treatment system cost us $9200 dollars; its retail value was perhaps $2500 tops. Furthermore, the technician they sent out to install it knew nothing about rural water systems. In the next hurricane, all $9200 of it got turned into an expensive pile of junk when the well de-pressurized as its pump lost power. The main filtration tank collapsed in the ensuing vacuum and winds took care of the rest. We are still finding pieces of the damned thing as we clear out the forest behind the house...and we just paid it off a year ago. Rainsoft, once the contract was signed, denied all liability and continued calling us to ask about a replacement (at our cost, of course) and/or softener supplies for up to three years afterward.
An expensive trap, to say the least, but a lesson hard learned. We don't do business with anyone making cold calls, especially when it comes to contracting or plumbing work.
* Hard water doesn't actually do most of these things. There is some evidence that it may shorten the lifespan of appliances such as the hot water tank and the dishwasher, but nothing has been conclusively proven.
Written for season seven of therealljidol. I will link to the poll when it goes up.