I have a request. I need someone out there to start a business for me. Nothing fancy; just leave whichever dead-end soul-sucking job you’re currently in, throw together a logo or some letterhead, maybe, and make it happen. No biggie.
Here’s your business plan:
When people return from vacation — jetlagged, exhausted and full of airline peanuts — your service kicks in. You bring a van to their door, loaded with employees. The clients schlep into their house or apartment, and you follow them in. They close themselves into a bedroom and sleep the sleep that only rumpled, ragged recent tourists can muster. And you go to work.
You unpack their suitcases. You put away the travel toiletries and the souvenir gravy boats and the backup pack of neck massager batteries. You load their filthy sweaty clothes, caked with the mud of faraway exotic swampholes, into baskets — and while they slumber away, you wash it. And dry it, and fold it, and don’t use too much fabric softener or make anything itchy or inside-out the socks.
Also, don’t tri-fold the underpants. Seriously. They’re just underwear. Fold them once, and move on. You’ve got a lot of work to do, already.
“There’s probably just a box of tissues or maybe a SkyMall flyer in there. But just in case. Don’t go there.”
If the clients signed up for the “premium” service, maybe you tack on a couple of extras. Store the luggage back in the basement or wherever. Water some plants. Throw out those two bananas that they forgot to throw away that are still sitting on the kitchen counter, like a couple of squishy rotting dildos.
(Speaking of which, I wouldn’t look in those little pockets inside the suitcase lid. There’s probably just a box of tissues or maybe a SkyMall flyer in there. But just in case. Don’t go there.)
Anyway, you get the idea. Everybody knows the worst part of vacation is transitioning back to regular life; we need a company to take the hassle out of it for us. When you finally stumble home after a week or so away, fighting flight delays and lost luggage and with the office looming in the too-near future, the last thing you want to do is tidy up and start unpacking. Instead, you could fall into bed, dream the night away, and wake up to a home that looks just like it did before you started throwing cargo shorts at suitcases and cramming every book on your summer reading list into a backpack.
Only cleaner. Because let’s face it, you’re not that tidy even on a good day. Also, those bananas. Ick.
Frankly, I think it’s a grand idea. Possibly the best that mankind has ever had. If we could just get a few of those people who are spinning their wheels, wasting their lives trying to teach children or cure cancer or whatnot, onto this project, I’m sure we could tackle it in short order.
I mean, I’d do it myself. But I just got back from vacation. And I’ve got some very nasty bananas to deal with. Chop chop, entrepreneurs.Permalink | No Comments