DAY 16: Sunday
My skims: 0
Wriggler’s skims: 0
Training for record still halted.
Money made for tinnie: $0, thanks to the people of Pensdale
Wriggler had the bucket and I had the squeegee. We were standing at the traffic lights halfway down Queen Street. We had been waiting fifteen minutes and not a single car had come past.
Queen Street is the centre of the Pensdale shopping strip. Actually it’s the whole strip.
On one side of Queen Street is the mall, which was built in the nineties. Next to the mall is a huge hardware superstore, which takes up a whole block. On the other side is the daggiest row of shops ever. The chemist, a cafe, a greasy burger shop, a Chinese restaurant, a hairdresser called ‘LuvUrHair’, a two-dollar shop and a shop that sells trophies. How do you make any money selling trophies? Especially in Pensdale where we don’t have any winners.
There was absolutely no one around.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have come on a Sunday,’ said Wrigs.
‘No, it’s perfect,’ I said. ‘There’s less cars so people won’t be in such a rush. They’ll have time.’
Wrigs wasn’t convinced.
‘The trick of making money is to have a plan,’ I told him. ‘This one is gold. As the drivers come over the hill, they’ll be driving directly into the sun.’
‘So?’
‘So, the sun’ll hit their windscreen and they’ll see how dirty the glass is. Then they’ll drive down the road a bit, and see us—the solution to their problem.’
Just then a car came over the hill. Sure enough, as soon as the sun hit the windscreen, the driver pressed the water spray on her car and used her windscreen wipers to try and clean her windscreen.
Even I was impressed with my plan.
Wriggler pressed the pedestrian-crossing button just to make sure that the car got a red light. The car pulled up. It was old Ms Burke from my street. She had on her best clothes and a really old-fashioned hat that had a fake peacock feather on top. She must have been on her way back from church. An easy touch.
‘Hello, ma’am, may I please wash your windscreen?’ I asked.
I had soapy suds all over the windscreen before Ms Burke could say no. I ran the squeegee across the window like a pro. I started at the top of the window and worked my way down. I flicked the squeegee between each stroke to get off excess water—not that it did anything, but it looked good.
There’s more to cleaning windows than just getting dirt off. You need to smile at the customer, even tell a joke, and act as though cleaning their windscreen is the most important thing in the world.
I made a big show of wiping off the last drops of water on the windscreen with a rag that I whipped out of my back pocket. Ms Burke looked really impressed. She smiled and put some money in my hand before driving off.
I opened my hand to show the money to Wrigs. It was two five-cent coins. I didn’t know they still made five-cent pieces.
‘Only nine hundred and ninety-nine cars to go,’ said Wriggler. ‘Let’s go and ask Tearley again.’
‘No way,’ I said.
More cars were coming down the street now. They all got green lights.
I pounced on the next car that stopped. A big sandy-haired bloke was driving. I removed every skerrick of dirt from his window. I was a windscreen-cleaning artist. His front window was glistening by the time I finished it.
As I wiped the last splash of water off the glass I saw the bloke take five dollars out of his wallet. I looked at him and smiled.
My fingers were just about to close around the crisp note when he said, ‘Hey, are you the kid that threw a rock at me when I was kayaking?’
He didn’t wait for an answer. He just put the money back in his wallet and drove off.
The next couple of cars that came down Queen Street saw us early and sped up so they would get through the lights before they turned red.
The next car that got caught by the lights was a huge four-wheel drive. I was about to spray the water on the driver’s windscreen when she saw me. She hit reverse, went back up the road and then did a U-turn over the median strip so I couldn’t get to her.
The people of Pensdale aren’t ready for a premium windscreen-washing service.
Finally someone pulled up at the lights. The car looked familiar. It was Ms Burke again. She wound down her window.
‘What detergent did you use? It’s left marks all over my windscreen.’ She held out her hand and Wrigs gave her back her ten cents.
As she drove away Wrigs picked up the bucket and said, ‘I’m going to ask Tearley again.’