Family

That Time My Mom Accused the Carpet Cleaning Guy of Taking Her Gun

It made her kids laugh, but the carpet guy was terrified

“Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown. In my heart it don’t mean a thing.” — Toni Morrison

You Moved My Things

Once all her children left, my mother’s schedule was not full. She went from having six wild in the street kids she needed to corral daily to being in a large house alone. By then, my parents had separated. As a result, her various children would “drop” by her home multiple times a day as part of our everyday activities. All three boys lived near my mother in Chicago. All three girls moved out of town.

I had weekend duty every other weekend, so my spouse and I would drive the three hours from my home in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, to stay with her Friday through Sunday, providing the others with a weekend break. My mom’s three daughters offered her the opportunity to come and live with them, but she refused. She said she wasn’t sick enough to move from her home and take our BS.

I moved from California to Wisconsin to be closer to my mom, but my brothers lived in Chicago. One thing we observed about her was that she would misplace her things around the house. She would then accuse her children, none of whom currently lived with her, of moving her items. No matter when you visited, we were always looking for something. When the missing item was in a place only, she would have placed it. Mom would say, “Oh yea. I put it there so I wouldn’t forget where I put it.” We would laugh in frustration because, well… mom.

This Man Is A Thief

One day I got a call from one of my brothers, “Your mother is holding the carpet cleaning man hostage. I need you to call her and keep her on the phone while I deal with this.” I was at work.

I knew if he called me at work, he had already tried the other five members of our tribe. At that time, I had a fishbowl office in the middle of the Engineering team area. I calmly walked out to my assistant and said, like a scene from a movie, “Please hold my calls. Cancel my meetings. I have a problem to address.”

My mother kept multiple guns. She owned guns my entire life. We needed those guns to keep us safe on the Southside of Chicago. They trained Mom to handle them safely. She practiced at gun ranges and knew how to use a pistol. It was my understanding that she had shot at least one person in her life.

Mom’s best friend killed her husband when he made the mistake of beating her then going to get a belt to continue the beating. When he returned with the belt, she shot him twelve times. That means she reloaded. Her friend surprised none of us by shooting her husband. Mom and her friend grew up together on the impoverished Westside of Chicago. They had the same attitude. We could not figure out why the man was crazy enough to hit her friend in the first place.

Soon, my third brother pulls up, and now he directs the man to sit down as my brothers surround him. All the brothers are telling the carpet cleaner it will be ‘ok.’ Two of my brothers are big men, over six feet. The third is the smallest and the most dangerous. If I didn’t know him, I would cross the street when I saw him coming toward me. They know my mother has misplaced her pistol somewhere in the house.

Tell Me All About It

I called my mom. She answered. I said, “What’s up?” Mom launched into the explanation about how the carpet cleaning man had come to the house that morning to shampoo the carpet in the living and dining room. She had her gun in the living room under the cushion because she wanted it close to her. When he finished cleaning the living room, the gun was missing! She immediately called my brother to come over.

When my brother arrived, he told the cleaning man what was going on. The man stopped cleaning the front room to talk to my brother. My brother said the man broke out in a cold sweat even though he told him it was going to be “ok.” While he was talking to the man, my second brother pulled up in his car. He got out and joined the conversation.

Soon, my third brother pulls up, and now he directs the man to sit down as my brothers surround him. All the brothers are telling the carpet cleaner it will be ‘ok.’ Two of my brothers are big men, over six feet. The third is the smallest and the most dangerous. If I didn’t know him, I would cross the street when I saw him coming toward me. They know my mother has misplaced her pistol somewhere in the house.

My oldest brother told me the man was not reassured, that the men were not upset. Remember, I’ve got my mother on the house phone in the kitchen ranting to me while they talk to the carpet cleaning man outside. The carpet man could hear her on the phone with me.

My brother gets my mom off the phone for her to explain what she believes happened. The carpet cleaning man is damn near crying, sitting in my mom’s wet front room with three unperturbed men and my mom. The carpet cleaning man wants to call the police. My brother says, “My dad is the police. Do you want us to call him?” An expression of shock comes over the carpet cleaning man’s face, and he changes his mind.

Oh Yea, Here It Is

Now, one of my brothers searches the house, looking for my mother’s gun. The other two brothers sit with the accused man. The man has sweated through his clothing, so they offer him a drink. Not of water, but whiskey. He accepts the offer. Twice.

My mom gets off the phone again — this time to show my brother where she has been in the house. As she walks him through the house, they find the gun in the Red Room on a windowsill behind a red curtain. The red room is a room off the kitchen, where my mom installed red wallpaper, red furniture, red carpet, and red lights.

My brother walks back into the front room with my mother and the gun. The carpet cleaning man almost faints, thinking the jig is up. He was going to be murdered performing a carpet cleaning special discount promotion. No, they give him another shot of whiskey. My mother comes into the front room to apologize, sort of, but does not have a chance to.

The carpet man literally runs out of our mom’s house, gets in his cleaning van, and drives away. He left his equipment in my mom’s house. My brothers break out laughing at how fast the dude got away from them. (He retrieved his equipment a few days later when my mother was not home. One of my brothers met him and let him back in the house.)

Today Is A Good Day

My mother is unapologetic. She has tied up my three brothers, me, and the carpet cleaning man with her forgetfulness. My brothers kiss her, order her an Italian Fiesta pizza, and return to their jobs. I breathe a sigh of relief and notify my assistant that I’m available to take meetings and calls.

My mom saw her sons, found her gun, got free cleaning in her living and front room, and had delicious pizza for lunch. No one got shot, banished from the family, or cursed out, and that is a win-win-win-win for the four of us. Not a bad day for dealing with my forgetful, strong-willed mom. Today is a good day.

Toni Crowe retired as the Vice President of Operations to pursue her dream of being a writer. Toni has written six books, two of which won the 2019 Reader’s Choice Gold Awards. Her bestselling business book, “Bullets and Bosses Don’t Have Friends: How Do You Manage A Man Sitting With His Dick in His Hand?” was one of the winners. Her first book, “Never a $7 Whore” was the other.

Visit My Facebook Community | Subscribe to My Newsletter | Visit My Website