On The Lavender Trail

In which Scrubby and Lummox offer some exceptional Auckland bin cleaning deals, encounter a mad dog, a man drinking a beer, and Lance from Lance's Lawn Service.

Bin Cleaning Adventures Begin in Mount Roskill

The bright sun whizzed about the earth and 'twas shining upon its vast blueness like a big ocean of placid restfulness. There in the midst of this sea of tranquillity spun a whirlpool, a gurgling maelstrom which threatened to suck all that dared come near its orbit deep down into the bowels of the underworld. We're talking about the Royal Oak Roundabout.

Into this circus, out of a feeling of duty towards the citizens of Auckland, and with a mind to their comfort – a comfort which can only ever be had with squeaky clean, lavender fresh wheelie bins – voluntarily drove Scrubby McTubb from the Bin Cleaning Club and his new apprentice, Lummox McRyan with the Stomach of Iron.

"Crikey," said Scrubby.

Before they could see it they could hear it. One short beep. Then another, longer. Then two beeps at once which didn't harmonise well. Then came a full orchestra of beeping, joined with a growing choir of yelling.

A lady and a man had stopped their cars in the middle of the roundabout and were taking pictures of each other's bumpers with their mobile phones. Lines were growing back from the Manukau Road entrance and the Campbell Road entrance and angry people were getting out of their cars and yelling at other people who were even angrier than the first lot.

Lummox McRyan swallowed a piece of the lolly cake he had been munching and said, "Bit of a combat zone."

"Yep," said Scrubby. Lummox continued, "A Charybdis of confusion."

"A what?" said Scrubby. "Is that a word they teach you at the university?"

"No, it's a—"

"But anyway," interrupted Scrubby, "this roundabout's a battle that's been raging since before my time and the way I sleep at night and keep me whiskers long is by not getting involved."

The fact that two entries to the roundabout were completely shut off had the effect of freeing up the other half. Scrubby's van breezed through like a morning zephyr, only blowing to, not from, the West.

"You see," continued Scrubby, "the problem is that there are two lanes and when someone in the central lane pulls out of the roundabout to the exit on your right you should, in theory, have enough cover to enter the roundabout yourself but there's all too often some silly goose zipping around behind that car too fast for his own good and he'll pay no mind to whoever's trying to get into the roundabout ahead of him. In his mind he can do whatever he wants because he got on the roundabout first. What he doesn't take into account is that the rules of the roundabout aren't dictated by how entitled he feels to its use. He doesn't understand that you are under pressure from impatient people pulled up behind you and that you are obliged to enter at the first availability lest the buggers start beeping. And once a group of cars start beeping there's no stopping them. It's the madness of crowds, it's like...'

'It's like Plato said about Democracy in the Republic', said Lummox. Scrubby asked, 'Is that another one of your university sayings?'

'No, I—'

'At any rate it's best not to go through the Royal Oak Roundabout at all if you can help it. You'll live longer'.

'Then why do we go this way?' said Lummox.

'Bloody good question Lummox. Now, our first stop's gonna be a quick bin cleaning service in Mount Roskill, so how are you feeling after yesterday?'

'Not too bad,' said Lummox, 'just a bit broken all over.'

There was a car parked on the left lane so they had to navigate onto the right lane until they were past it and then return to the left lane.

'You'll learn to make pain your friend in the bin cleaning game', said Scrubby. 'You'll learn to force-march yourself on second day feet. Never mind all the big ideas they've pumped you full of at the university. All those dreams you've had – give 'em a big big smooch goodbye because starting today you're entering the School of Hard Knocks and the headmaster's name is Mister Life and he's oiling up the Cane of Reality and I'm here to tell you right now, free of charge, that success as an Auckland bin cleaning specialist never came from quoting a bunch of fancy words from a damn university or munching on a bunch of lolly cake.'

Scrubby sipped the instant coffee cooling in the same paper cup he'd got from a Te Atatu gas station three months ago and he gave a sigh of satisfaction as he placed it back into the cupholder. Then he said, 'Be a champ, Lummox, and plug Mount Roskill into Google Maps for us'.

'Really?', said Lummox, 'Even I know the directions to Mount Roskill from Onehunga. Ya go up Mount Smart Road, which we've done, ya go left onto Hillsborough Road up here before you reach Three Kings, ya zip past the Bunnings turn off at Carr Road, and ya turn right onto the motorway—'

'I know,' said Scrubby. Lummox went on, 'You get on the Southwestern Motorway, ya cruise along till ya get to...bloody...to bloody...Dominion Road...'

'I know, I know', said Scrubby. 'That's not the point. I've grown attached to the robot lady's voice. She's part of my life now'.

Customer Stories: Mrs. Holloway’s Bin Cleaning Experience

Once they were in Mount Roskill, Scrubby drove the van down a string of side streets the robot had not recommended and so Scrubby began to argue with her and this continued until they had pulled up to a non-Palladian house – more like a state house from the '50s – with broken eave frets and green mats hanging over the rails of the balcony. A bulldog on a long chain shot up to a rigid standing position and was calculating how many bites it would take to make the two bin cleaning men disappear into its belly. A lady who looked to be in her nineties hobbled over to the now whimpering dog and handed it a dog bikkie which instantly vanished into a black hole of chompy slobber and she said, 'That's enough, Rooter, they're our friends'.

The dog grumbled and sat down. The lady continued, addressing the bin cleaners, 'Don't worry about Rooter, he's usually a good boy – aren't you Rooter – as long as you don't make any sudden movements. He doesn't like surprises very much – do you Rooter? – except for dog bikkies – you love doggy bikkies, don't you dearest? There's a good boy –' and another dog biscuit disappeared with a snap and a gulp '– or postmen, he doesn't think much of postmen and he took a chunk out of one a few weeks back and I haven't heard the end of it from the Council people'.

Lummox performed the bin sanitising process with the elegance of a ballerina with a focus on ease, control, and caution with a special avoidance of any sharp or sudden movements.

'Don't worry Lummox', said Scrubby, 'He's just a big floppy puppy with big chompy jaws who could gobble us up as a morsel'.

Lummox ignored Scrubby and continued spraying antibacterial pine rinse around the rims of the bins, all over both sides of the lid and handles, and all through the innards. The dog's eyes were locked onto Lummox's every move with an intensity of interest bordering on profound concern. The clicking thud of the plastic handle of the spray bottle caused ears to shoot back and whiskers to flinch, in spite of the fact that the constant clicking from Mrs Holloway's typewriting on the porch was ten times louder. Lummox wondered if that typewriter could benefit from a service at Clackers Clinic in Onehunga. But really he was picturing his own funeral with a pastor proclaiming 'alas, taken from us too soon' and 'such a tragic waste of talent – he was destined for greatness in the noble field of Assyriology' and 'sadly, we have none of his earthly remains with us as the postman is still sifting through them in search of his gluteus medius'.

Lummox reached into his pocket for his last Anzac bikkie thinking to buy his life with it or at least gulp it down himself as a condemned man's final mortal treat. But he let it remain.

When Scrubby started the loud water blaster the dog lost enthusiasm and slunk around the back of the house.

'How do they look?' said Scrubby.

'Like they need Scrubby McTubb's Auckland-wide bin cleaning service is what they look like'.

'Excellent!' said Scrubby and he began the delicate and deliberate pressure washing blast-down of the insides of the dirty wheelie bins, beginning from the top rims and spiralling down like if an autumn leaf would if it was a fireman's hose.

'You know Lummox,' Scrubby said above the noise, 'if you lived in Mount Roskill the call-out fee for one of our bin cleaning sessions is only $40 plus $10 per bin'.

'Very reasonable', said Lummox.

'Which makes me wonder,' said Scrubby, 'If you live in Mount Roskill, can you afford not to get your bins lavender fresh and squeaky clean by Scrubby McTubb Bin Cleaning?'

'It truly is a very reasonable price indeed for a thorough rubbish bin cleaning service if ever I heard of one', said Lummox, 'If only more people knew about it!'

'That's right!' said Scrubby, excitedly. 'Then they could organise with their next door neighbours to go halves on the call-out fee!'

'Quite reasonable!' agreed Lummox, who was back to thinking about the Anzac bikkie in his pocket.

When they had finished cleaning her bins Mrs Holloway came out to inspect.

'You boys have simply done the most tremendous job!', she said. 'These rubbish bins smelt quite vile before but now they are squeaky clean and fresh as a field full of daisies! I haven't had them looking this good since they were brand new! Just you wait – I'll be telling all my friends down at Housie all about Scrubby McTubb's wonderful bin cleaning service.'

'Well, thank you ma'am, it's been our pleasure', said Lummox.

She went on, 'Now before you head off I've got just one more little favour to ask you lads if you don't mind. I've got a nasty blockage in the drain underneath the garage grate—'

'We're very sorry, Mrs Holloway,' said Scrubby, 'but we've got another customer waiting for us in Lynfield so we'll have to book you in for another time'.

'And', she continued, 'I have a whole plate of Anzac bikkies inside looking for some young lads to gobble them up'.

The drain was cleared in twenty-three minutes flat and they were back on the road. Scrubby looked over at Lummox in the passenger seat and explained, 'That's how they get you, you know. The intelligent customer has studied the tradie as much as the intelligent tradie has studied the customer'.

'Almost a chiasmus', said Lummox.

'Is that another university word?' said Scrubby.

'My apologies', said Lummox.

'Well', Scrubby said, 'the informed customer knows that the tradie's brain is hardwired to comply with any request if there's an Anzac bikkie at stake. They've been using our own systems against us like that for aeons. They break through our...where are we? Why's robot lady not talking?'

Just then the robot lady spoke up and told Scrubby McTubb to turn left down White Swan Road.

'Is it just me', said Scrubby, 'or is the robot lady becoming more human-like?'

The robot spoke up: 'Stay in your lane, Scrubby McTubb from the Bin Cleaning Club, leave the philosophising and thinking to us robots – your betters – and just you focus on your mission of getting every dirty bin in Auckland squeaky clean and sparkly bright and sanitised and fragrant as you possibly can. Now then, get ready to turn left up Hillsborough Road like a good boy'.

'See!' said Scrubby, 'tell me that didn't sound like a human!'

'I didn't notice anything,' said Lummox whose eyes had become vacant as he munched on a bikkie.

Exceptional Auckland Bin Cleaning Deals

They had finished washing the three wheelie bins at the Lynfield property by ten o'clock and by eleven they had finished the next job in Blockhouse Bay. They were on West Coast Road driving towards Glen Eden before midday to clean four more council rubbish bins. Two neighbours there had gone in for the shared call out fee deal and were paying only $40 – $20 each, presumably – plus $10 per bin with the small food bin thrown in for free.

When they were done, Lummox stretched his back and said, 'Where to now, Scrubby?'

Scrubby answered: 'We're heading to the beautiful suburb of Kelston – a suburb made ever more serene and picturesque by regular bin cleaning practices.'

'Do they have the same amazing combination $40 call out fee deal?'

'You better believe it.'

At the end of a long driveway, Garth was leaning on his porch with a chilly beer warming up in his paw. He apologised for the state of his bins.

'Never mind that, sir', said Lummox, 'we live for the challenge!'

'You're getting the hang of this,' said Scrubby.

As the water blaster roared so did the thunder and the rain poured down.

'Well, that's me, I'm heading inside', said Garth, who had been asking a lot of interesting questions about bin cleaning.

The storm moved on and so did they. The sun had traversed halfway across its azure domain and was shining and sparkling and shimmering almost as bright as the freshly scrubbed recycling bin Scrubby McTubb and Lummox McRyan had just finished sanitising and water blasting at a pristine Glendene property whose only flaw had been a rankly redolent and stench-filled bin. Now that the bin smelled sweet, the whole estate took on the gleaming quality of real estate perfection.

Back in the wagon Lummox typed in Western Heights as Scrubby turned left onto Te Atatu Road.

'How are we feeling?' asked Scrubby.

'Great', answered Lummox.

'You seem a tad sleepy', said Scrubby.

'Not in the slightest', said Lummox.

'You might wanna go easy on them Anzac bikkies. Pace yourself'.

'I am'.

'We've got two more jobs to go and I don't wanna be having to explain to the customers that I'm employing another young joker who can't handle his bikkies. Not again. Never again'.

'I'm good. I'll pace myself'.

'You gotta nibble them. You've been gulping them back like there's no tomorrow, just like that bulldog this morning...'

And Scrubby continued a dialogue of life advice which lasted – with a brief interlude for scrubbing Mrs Bennett's recycling bin, garden bin, and rubbish bin – until they had reached Massey.

Lummox Witnesses the Fine Work of Lance's Lawn Service

'No way!' said Lummox out the window, 'But how?!'

'How what?' said Scrubby.

'So straight!' said Lummox, 'so perfect!'

Lummox's eyes were mesmerised by the perfectly trimmed and neatly straight lines of a newly mown lawn glistening in the early afternoon sun.

'How is that even possible? That perfection? That tidiness??'

'Aaaah,' said Scrubby as he took another sip of his tepid instant coffee, 'there's only one company in the entire city – perhaps in the whole history of the city – who can pull off a job like that'.

'Surely not...you couldn't mean...'

'You better believe it', said Scrubby. 'Lance's Lawn Service. The one, the only'.

'I can't believe what I'm witnessing!' said Lummox. 'I mean, I've heard of the excellent job he does but I thought they must be, you know, exaggerating. But this looks like it has been trimmed by angels!'

'And,' said Scrubby, 'I bet that up around this next turn we'll see Lance himself busily concentrating on the next contour. There he is, up on yonder ridge! Lummox! Pick up my phone and call him. He's listed under Lance's Lawn Service. Actually, never mind, I know his number by heart because I call him every time my lawns need a good trim. Lance's number is 0214 955 646.'

As the van neared Lummox could see Lance reaching into his pocket for his phone.

'Good afternoon, Lance's Lawn Service'.

'Look up Lance!' yelled Scrubby.

Lance looked up, gave a thumbs up, and yelled, 'Scrubby McTubb from the Bin Cleaning Club!'

Scrubby yelled back, 'Lance's Lawn Service! The most reliable and tidy lawn mowing service in town!'

As they turned the bend Scrubby said to Lummox: 'You know, the best thing about Lance is he's multi-talented. Lance's Lawn Service doesn't only mow lawns – he also does leaf blowing, spraying, small pruning, and water blasting'.

'Impressive!' said Lummox.

'And reasonably priced, too', said Scrubby.

The End of an Auckland Rubbish Bin Cleaning Emotional Roller-Coaster

When they had finished up cleaning and sanitising the two wheelie bins their Massey customer had left out for them it was three o'clock and Scrubby let out a sigh. He said, 'This is the happiest and the saddest part of the day at the same time, Lummox'.

'Why's that, Scrubby?'

'It's happy because we can think back on all the freshly cleaned bins we have left behind us. It's sad because there are no more bins left for us to clean today.'

'Yeah, I suppose', said Lummox, but he said nothing more, for Scrubby McTubb was dabbing away a tear.

'You're kinda passionate about getting people's wheelie bins squeaky clean and lavender fresh, aren't you Scrubby?'

'You might say that, young Lummox, you might say that. Yes'.

'It's almost as though it's your life's calling, your vocation', said Lummox.

Back on the motorway the van's wheels whined away and the red sun dropped down behind them and dissolved like a tablet of bin deodoriser in a freshly rinsed bin.

'Vocation? Is that another one of those fancy words they taught you in...never mind'.