Spring Cleaning: Is Hiring A Rug Doctor Worth The Effort?

By Dan Ahwa
Viva
The Rug Doctor is considered a national cleaning treasure. Collage / Dan Ahwa

OPINION

The triumphs and tribulations of a spring clean with the help of a household name.

As we’re propelled into the digital age of AI technology and smart devices, the non-existence of video rental shops and telephone booths has signalled the death knell of nostalgia so many of us still

However, one machine is stubbornly holding on to its pre-pandemic features – specifically the Rug Doctor X3 from 2018, a model I recently hired from the supermarket for the first time. While it’s the kind of cumbersome clunk you can expect from industrial-strength machines, it took some time for me to look past its tired frame, like a Steampunk manifestation of what a vacuum cleaner might look like in the year 2024, constructed in Victor Frankenstein’s laboratory.

Maybe it was my hands-free, digitally savvy eyes that couldn’t quite comprehend it, but it almost felt novel to me; a machine that requires you to hire it out like a library book from the 1980s still exists.

Locked up in a cage, the familiar period piece is one familiar to many New Zealanders who have frequented a supermarket in the past 40 years. Its distinctive red body – not too dissimilar to a fire engine – has become one of those symbols of a Kiwi’s houseproud destiny: we live to work, to buy a house, to clean. The machine is an example of our puritanical, humble-pie domesticity, the same way the number eight wire supports our heartlands as a physical embodiment of the self-sufficiency so ingrained in our collective psyche. As Rug Doctor proudly proclaims on its website: “New Zealanders are a do-it-yourself nation and proud of it!”

But its humble roots are in Fresno, California in 1972, when professional carpet cleaner Roger Kent was frustrated with the lack of carpet cleaning equipment, which ultimately sparked his invention of a user-friendly machine that allowed homeowners to achieve professional-level cleaning results without hiring expensive services.

By 1980, the concept arrived in New Zealand with its first retail outlets across Auckland and Taupō. Today it has over 550 outlets nationwide from Kaitāia to Invercargill.

While the market is flooded with several professional carpet cleaning rentals including some impressive alternatives from Bissell and something much more basic at Hirepool, Rug Doctor has cornered the cultural zeitgeist as a brand synonymous with cleaning in New Zealand. While it’s existed for over 40 years, a recent weekend found me hiring one for the very first time.

If there was a bucket list of extremely niche Kiwi things to do before you die, hiring a Rug Doctor might be one of them.

By no means is this subliminal sponsored content or an assault on a beloved household brand, but rather a personal account of having reached a point in my life where I now required its services and am both amazed and dumbfounded by how something that looks like it comes from a bygone era, still holds value and purpose in our mostly upwardly mobile modern lives.

Two weekends ago was the first time I’d succumb to hiring one out of desperation, when the cat decided it was a good idea to perform a self-exorcism of hairballs all over the sofa. Similar historical events on our rug got away with stain remover, a paper towel, and the very forgiving kaleidoscopic print that comes with a Persian rug.

Unfortunately, the sofa wasn’t as lucky. The situation put a spanner in the works on a weekend when I planned to do nothing but lie down. There was only one thing to do and that was to traipse up to the local supermarket and hire a Rug Doctor.

“How long do you need it for?” asked the supermarket attendant.

“A couple of hours I guess?”

“You can hire it for four hours minimum for $39.99,″ came the swift reply, before I realised I needed the 1-litre carpet cleaner for $16.95 and the separate hand tool to clean the sofa for $6.50.

“Do you need the stain remover, upholstery cleaner or the odour remover – or all of them?” asked the attendant.

“What’s the difference?” I mumbled under my breath begrudgingly before panic-ordering the stain remover for $10.60.

“There’s a $50 bond too,” said the attendant.

I realised at this point I was being held to ransom.

The attendant held my hand (metaphorically) through an online form-filling process before I paid the total sum of $113.44.

This was followed by a search for a key to unlock the cage in which the Rug Doctor sat, and once opened I met my adopted machine with awkward apprehension. The attendant handed over a bag that contained the hand tool for cleaning the sofa as I lugged the cumbersome machine out to my car, folding the handle down like I was told, and hauling the hefty piece of equipment into my boot.

“This is so weird,” I remember telling myself. The hunk of metal lay on my back seat looking like a comatose R2-D2. It had the usual wear and tear of a rental that’s done the rounds. No matter how much cleaning the previous borrower did, they’d miss some superfluous scum and random hairs stuck in its detachable filter.

At home, I filled the red base tank up to the line with the purchased cleaning solution and the white recovery tank with warm water. I switched on the machine starting with our large Persian rug. My wireless Dyson vacuum cleaner was leaning on the bookshelf nearby, silently judging me as I tackled the Rug Doctor’s black thick cord around my shoulders with every slow step backward – no repetitive back-and-forth motion is required with its one-pass cleaning system.

My desire to be lying down made things worse as I bypassed viewing its helpful tutorials online in an attempt to get this over and done with. After about 30 minutes, the clean revealed a rug that looked cleaner albeit damp.

Next up was cleaning the hairball-soaked sofa with a quick change of nozzles to an upholstery tool and hose attachment. I sprayed the stain remover and waited for it to sink into the stain for a few minutes, before dragging the nozzle across the spot and subsequently the entire sofa.

I spoke too soon, and I judged too quickly.

The tired-looking hulk of a machine did in fact siphon every dirty spot – and then some. If there’s one satisfactory visual that elicits both disgust and amazement, seeing how dirty the white opaque tank had filled was it. It’s possibly part of the reason why so many household cleaners are transparent in design, playing into our other weird obsession as humans to see immediate results.

Of course, there will always be some level of incongruity when you bring an industrial-strength cleaner into a domestic space; but if a spring clean is on the cards, it is worth the slightly unbearable adoption process and awkward logistics of getting it to and from your home.

In hindsight, after looking at the website, much of my problem with pet stains could have easily been solved if I’d considered buying one of the X3 models’ more portable cousins, compact versions that work on smaller stains, with one particular version dedicated purely to the pet mess.

The entire cleaning process took an hour and a half.

As I emptied the brown liquid and cleaned out the tanks and filter in preparation for its return to its cage, ready for the next desperate customer, I looked at the rug and sofa in renewed admiration.

Is the Rug Doctor our unsung national cleaning treasure? Possibly.

What is clear, though, is this deep spring-clean encounter made the rest of that weekend lying down that much sweeter.

UPDATE: An official letter of response from Rug Doctor dated Thursday 26 September 2024:

Dear Dan,

I just wanted to say thank you for getting me out my cage the other weekend, I felt that although you were unsure at first, we really bonded over the time we spent together.

In this day and age with all the mod techs and flashing lights I can understand that people do tend to judge a book by its cover, metaphorically speaking… but the truth is sometimes they just don’t make ‘em like they used to. And I may not be flashy but I’m reliable… like the friend you can always trust to hold your hair back after a huge night out.

Everyone needs that friend in their life, right?

Oh, and I must tell you my friend Stain Remover was even more excited to know you have signed the adoption papers for the spare room in your cleaning cupboard! Having my friends in your cupboard will help you between my visits and keep you feeling house proud even when fluffy is misbehaving, or when that Friday night glass of Sav gets accidentally knocked off the coffee table whilst dancing on top of it singing Work It by Missy Elliott at the top of your lungs, letting all your ambitions go after a big week.

Sorry... I got a little carried away there… Any hu, what I really wanted to say is that Stain Remover and I will always have your back, and we really do get steaming mad at dirt, so you don’t have to… and Fluffy must also realise that sometimes you really do just need a good lazy Sunday to put your feet up.

You deserve it Dan. You’re a proud homeowner now.

Don’t forget about my friends Odour Remover and Spot Remover they are real heavy weights in their own rights too. Look forward to seeing you again next time you decide to collect me from my cage.

Yours truly,

From your reliable, red Rug Doctor machine

Dan Ahwa is Viva’s fashion and creative director and a senior premium lifestyle journalist for the New Zealand Herald, specialising in the intersections of style, luxury, art and culture. He is also an award-winning stylist with more than 17 years of experience and is a co-author and co-curator of the book and exhibition Moana Currents: Dressing Aotearoa Now. Recent stories to catch up on include looking at how some of the country’s leading executives and CEOs get dressed for work, interviewing Team NZ CEO Grant Dalton and a look at why LinkedIn can sometimes be cringe.

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