15. Perfect Shower Day
Henry apprehensively stepped into the shower stall of his new apartment. He felt totally naked and defenseless, which of course he was. He should have insisted on trying out the shower before agreeing to rent the place. Now it was too late; he had already signed a two-year lease. However, in his experience all showers were about the same, so it didn’t matter anyway. He expected the worst.
As he feared, the shower water was controlled by one of those single complex knobs that mysteriously regulated both temperature and flow rate. The water would of course be either ice cold or scalding hot to start with, and he would soon suffer miserably as he hopelessly tried to dodge merciless cascading torrents, while in a state of panic he ineptly and fruitlessly attempted to adjust the temperature to something at least tolerable. Throughout his desperate efforts, the water would alternate between too hot and too cold. Zeroing in on something bearable would be purely a matter of luck. More likely at some point before that happened he would dash out of the shower screaming. That’s what he expected.
Instead, the water temperature was immediately perfect! Further, as Henry happily washed and rinsed all his body parts at least three times, the water temperature remained absolutely perfect!
Henry couldn’t remember such a thing ever happening to him before. The water gently massaged and soothed him, melting away tension and washing away all the ills of the World and all the torments that plagued his body and soul. He burst into spontaneous song. He had a terrible singing voice, but he didn't care.
As it was his day off from work, Henry was tempted to stay there showering all day, but at last hunger and severe skin wrinkling drove him out. As he emerged from his Perfect Shower confident and joyous, he resolved to reward his benefactors in some way.
After munching a brunch muffin he visited his new landlady. “Mrs. Thornapple, I want to report a truly wonderful shower. I can’t tell you how pleased I am!”
If Henry expected her to even smile, he was mistaken. “Of course you can’t, so don’t tell me already, young man. Don’t tell anyone. You understand you shouldn’t speak openly of these things, don’t you? Of course you do. I’m happy that you like the shower in your apartment, but take the advice of an old lady that knows a little about how things work in this world. Don’t go blabbing about such things, or they might just go away. Understand? Of course you do. Treat it all as a gift from God and leave it alone.”
Despite the confusing advice from his landlady Henry felt compelled to tell someone else. He studied the shower apparatus closely and took photos. It looked like standard stuff to him, but then what did he know about plumbing? In the phone-book he looked up ‘KROD-WORKS’, the name on the showerhead, and was pleased to find that the company that made his shower-apparatus was a local one. He drove there at once.
“I’d like to talk to someone about the performance of my Krod-Works shower-head,” he announced to the bored looking receptionist.
“The Complaint Department is down this hall to the left,” she said, smiling and pointing.
“No, you don’t understand,” he explained, “I don’t have a complaint. On the contrary, I want to personally thank the folks that made my showerhead. It does such a wonderful job! The temperature of my shower this morning was perfect, absolutely perfect!”
The receptionist fought to retain her smile, but Henry noted a sharp intake of breath that occurred simultaneously with face whitening and eyes widening, perhaps as if someone had slipped ice-cubes down the back of her blouse unexpectedly.
“Is something wrong?” Henry asked.
“No, of course not. I think I know who you should talk to though, if you be so kind to wait a moment.” She reached under her desk for just an instant, than simply sat staring at Henry, fixing him with her smile, a smile shown by her eyes to be a lie. She made no attempt to phone or page anyone. She must have pushed a hidden button of some sort, Henry realized.
A very short time later indeed two rather large, serious looking men in dark business suits emerged from a side-door and quickly scanned the lobby, which was at the moment empty except for the receptionist and Henry. One big man moved directly towards Henry, while the second one positioned himself strategically as if to block the building exit door as he sized-up Henry clinically. He held one hand hidden under his suit coat, exactly where one of those shoulder harnesses that Henry often saw on TV would provide a handgun.
“What seems to be the problem?” asked the first man, face expressionless. He stared deep into Henry’s eyes, as though looking for something.
“No problem whatsoever, as I explained a few minutes ago,” said Henry. “I merely wish to convey my appreciation to Krod-Works for the wonderful shower I received this morning.”
“My, aren’t you the lucky one?” the man remarked dryly. “It’s a complex thing, the temperature of shower water; most people don’t realize that.”
“I always supposed it was, but apparently you folks have licked the problem somehow.” Henry smiled and forced a laugh. The man in the business suit stared soberly into Henry’s eyes without any reaction at all. “It came as a wonderful surprise to me actually. Say, who are you guys anyway?”
“You weren’t expecting it then? A perfect shower?”
“No, I guess not. Hey, what’s this about?”
“Standard procedure, that’s all, Mr. Wells.”
“Say, how did you know my name?”
“We scan the license plates of all the vehicles that visit our factory, then we match the image of the registrant with that of the person entering our lobby. Pattern recognition, of course. After all, you could have been a sales person or worse, instead of an accountant born in Peoria and educated in Chicago. We can’t be too careful these days.”
“I suppose not,” said Henry, not agreeing at all but trying to be amiable, at least until he got out of there. How did they know about Peoria and Chicago? “You’re security people of some sort then, aren’t you?”
The dark suited man smiled at last, but Henry had the feeling that this smile was as fake as the receptionist’s had been. “Of course not, Mr. Wells. My name is John Reed, Vice President of our Public Relations Office.” He reached out and shook Henry’s hand firmly. “Frankly, we don’t get very many visits of this sort; maybe we’re a little out of practice.”
Henry felt only slightly reassured. “Sure, I guess that’s understandable. It’s just that I had the notion that I’d try to thank the folks that made my shower possible. I don’t suppose you do factory tours here?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Our factory isn’t accessible to the public. Lots of industrial espionage nowadays, you know. But I’ll personally make sure that your thoughts are passed on to the right people, if you know what I mean?” He stared at Henry pointedly, as if expecting some sort of response. “You know what I mean?” he repeated.
“Oh sure,” said Henry.
Mr. Reed’s expression hardened again. “Oh sure? I have a few questions for you then, if you have a minute?”
“I guess I do. It’s my day off.”
Mr. Reed ushered Henry from the lobby into a side-office and shut the door behind them. He sat behind the desk and motioned Henry into a visitor’s chair. “You don’t happen to know the model and serial numbers for your shower-head, do you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Henry pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and gave it to Mr. Reed.
Mr. Reed stared at it for a moment, then smiled. “Oh yes, the Model 402-B. A limited issue version of our more popular model 402-A. Where did you get it?”
“It came with the apartment, why do you ask?”
“Oh, just curiosity.” Reed was staring at the computer screen on his desk and rapidly making entries with the keyboard. “It’s just that we didn’t have you registered for a 402-B, that’s all.”
“You register shower-heads to individuals?” asked Henry, astonished.
“In a way. Our products come with a lifetime warranty. You weren’t awa
re of that then?”
“Why should I be? I live in an apartment.”
“The address?”
Henry gave it to him, though he wasn’t sure why Reed needed it or why a man that knew that he was an accountant from Peoria wouldn’t know it already.
“New address I see. And you had nothing to do with acquiring the shower head?”
“Of course not.”
“Was transfer of the warranty covered in your lease?”
“What? I don’t know. Say, what’s it to you?”
“We just want to make sure that our warranty records are correct Mr. Wells. Standard procedures, nothing to worry about. What was your mother’s maiden name?”
“Anderson. Say, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Just further confirming your identity Mr. Wells. Pattern recognition isn’t perfect, you know, and the I.D. photos in our data bank are rather poor. When did you shave off your moustache?”
“What does how I shave my face have to do with anything?”
“Just following standard procedures. You know what I mean?” He stared at Henry again, his eyes questioning. “You know what I mean?”
“Not really,” Henry said.
Reed smiled then, stood up, and shook Henry’s hand. “I believe that’s all we need then Mr. Wells. Thank you for your cooperation, and for coming in today and bringing this matter to our attention. Unfortunately your shower experience was probably a fluke, a statistical anomaly, a once in a lifetime event.”
“You really think so?”
“I’m afraid so. Those things happen, you know.” Smiling but firm, he ushered Henry out of the office, out of the lobby, and out of Krod-Works. “Have a good day,” he said at the last, flashing a fake smile.
Henry wasn’t at all sure anymore that it was a good day. The effects of the Perfect Shower had worn off. He decided to return to his apartment for another one.
“YOW!” he yelled, as he dashed out of the freezing water. Mr. Reed had been right. Henry had been careful to maintain the original temperature settings, but to no avail. There was nothing unusual about his shower-head after all. Only God could make a Perfect Shower, and then only once in a blue moon.
As he hastily dried himself off and got dressed Henry felt very foolish for having made the trip to Krod-Works, and he laughed at the whole crazy thing. What a fool they must have thought he was. That was it altogether, he decided; they thought he was a total nut case. No wonder they had acted so strange.
Just then there was a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Thornapple.
“Are you having plumbing problems Mr. Wells? Mr. Jenkins down the hall tells me that he saw plumbers here a short while ago today. If you have problems you should call me, you know. It’s in the lease.”
“Plumbers? Here? He must be mistaken. I’ve been out most of the morning; only got home ten minutes ago.”
“I see. Well, just remember that you should call me first if you have any problems; it’s in the lease. You know what I mean?” She winked at him.
Henry didn’t remember exactly what was in the lease. Curious now, he retrieved the surprisingly voluminous document and studied it after Mrs. Thornapple had gone. The going was slow; he needed a magnifying glass and a legal dictionary to read it. To his astonishment the lease contained a transfer of warranty for the shower head, right there as plain as day on page thirty seven between restrictions against having motor-cycles in the living-room and the list of allowable window-shade colors! There was also a clause that stated that performance of the shower was not to be disclosed to anyone. “Well I’ll be darned!” he exclaimed. Shaking his head, he wandered into the bathroom and looked closely at his Krod-Works showerhead.
It looked ‘different’ somehow, though in what way he couldn’t quite place. The model and serial numbers checked out with what he had on his list. The photos matched also, but only to a point. To his amazement, the showerhead was now twisted a few degrees further than it had been in the morning. He got his magnifying glass and compared the photos with the showerhead more closely. The numbers were indeed the same, but they were placed slightly differently on the showerhead. A cold chill swept through him. There could be no doubt; this was not the same showerhead! He looked at the model number more closely. Yes, it said 402-B, but the ‘B’ didn’t look quite right. It could have been an ‘A’ that was altered to look like a ‘B’ instead.
It had to be those mystery plumbers! Fear and then anger mounted rapidly. The sanctity of his apartment had been violated. His first impulse was to go have it out with Reed. His second was to call the police. Instead he called Mrs. Thornapple, as per the lease. She was at his door five minutes later.
The old woman lectured Henry sternly. “Didn’t I tell you this morning not to go blabbing about your shower? Didn’t I tell you to leave it alone already? And what do you do but go straight to the shower people, before they could get your lease in the mail so that your warranty paperwork would be in place. You’re lucky they didn’t break your knee-caps. And you’re lucky I’ve got connections young man, or you and this whole building could be in too hot or too cold water, and who wants that anyway? Do you have any idea what it takes to get a decent shower in this town? It takes years of doing this and that for this one and that one, and knowing this one and that one, and paying them all plenty, that’s what it takes. And roofs that don’t leak and cars and appliances that work and tomatoes that are ripe? I suppose you think that’s all some kind of good luck too?”
“Yes, I do. Isn’t it?”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m confused.”
“You shouldn’t be, you know what I mean?”
“People keep asking me that. No, I don’t.”
“Wait a minute! You don’t know what ‘you know what I mean’ means?”
“What?”
Her jaw dropped open. “I’ll be damned. You don’t know, do you?” She shook her head and waved a wrinkled old finger at him. “You’re a very naïve young man then. That look of innocence has probably saved you so far, but that kind of luck don’t last. Grow up! And come to my office in thirty minutes; I need to check some things.”
When he arrived two workmen were leaving her office. The first one smiled at Henry as they passed, but the second one shook his head in disapproval. Only as Mrs Thornapple pulled him into her office and shut the door did he realize they were plumbers. He knew then. These were THE plumbers!
“Sit down Mr. Wells, I’ve taken care of it, all of it. What a mess! It’s a good thing for both of us I got connections.” She sat down behind her desk with a sigh. “It was an administrative slip-up by your butcher in your old neighborhood. He was supposed to explain things to you, when he sold you a New-York strip-steak on the twelfth of last month, since he was the first one of us to do business with you after you were chosen to be one of us.”
“One of us?”
“The people that get raises and cars that don’t fall apart and good prices and health services and apartments. People that have dates with other people that are also the right people. People with kids that that get good teachers and textbooks, and get accepted to clubs and sports teams and top colleges. How do you suppose you were able to get this apartment so quickly?”
“My check cleared?”
“Check-shmeck, any idiot can have a check that clears; it happens. You, on the other hand, have been chosen. It shows up in your credit report, if you know what to look for. The number score is just for shmucks.”
“Chosen for what?”
For a good life, she proceeded to explain to him, as long as he worked hard and treated others of his privileged social class with ‘special favors’, and kept it all a secret. Those people that seemed to always get the good breaks, though they were no more talented then their companions? They were indeed getting the good breaks, and he was now one of them! She then explained the secret handshakes and code words and other signals. When people asked ‘you know what I mean?’ there w
as a specific response to make, of course, which can’t be divulged here.
Chosen by whom and why? That was something he shouldn’t even ask, not at his apprentice level.
That evening after a perfect shower he did his laundry in the apartment basement. He would have ran out of quarters prematurely, but the Coke machine obliged by returning his change to him, while giving him a free can of soda. It even gave him back more money than he put in!
Honest fellow that he was, his first impulse was to phone the number provided on the Coke machine, but then he decided not to. Certainly not before checking with his lease, which probably mentioned someplace in all that small print about free Coke and laundry change. The Coke machine probably had sensors and so forth that recognized who he was and what he needed. So instead, he smiled and winked at the Coke machine knowingly. “I know what you mean,” he said.
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