He turned to the newspaper classifieds, where
Clean Services Northwest had this advertisement: High-rise window washer needed.
Welsh was afraid of heights but applied anyway. When asked if he had any experience with high-rises, he lied.
His first job was on the tallest building on Clean Services Northwest's account,
the 35-story KOIN Center. He nearly fainted with fear.
When Carlos Welsh was laid off six years ago, he worried how he would
support his four young children. He took the first job he was offered,
cleaning the exterior windows of Portland's tallest buildings.
He was terrified, but feeding a family trumped his fears. Fortunately
for Welsh, he discovered a knack for hanging from a rope several stories
above the pavement.
By now, the 28-year-old is so used to dangling with nothing below him
but a bucket of suds and a few stories of atmosphere, he answers
cellphone calls in midair.
"I've been cleaning long enough that I don't drop stuff," he says. "The new guys tie their phones to their clothes."
*****
Welsh, of
Beaverton, was working as an indoor window cleaner when the boss cut his position.
"I didn't see myself, but I'm sure I was white and shaky," he says. "I was terrified."
Welsh
made it through that first descent with the help of an experienced
trainer. Within a few weeks, the fear diminished. Instead, his thoughts
during a "jump" involved tailoring his window-cleaning strategy to the
building's architecture.
Armed
with a squeegee and a bucket of soapy water, Carlos Welsh has rappelled
from dozens of Portland’s highest buildings as a window washer for
Clean Services Northwest.
"Each one is a little bit tricky," he says. "You have to know what you're doing."
Now,
Welsh is the supervisor working alongside fear-stricken new trainees.
He teaches them the ropes while they avoid looking down.
*****
His
meticulous hands rarely miss a spot. Leave a streak on a window in
those expensive penthouses, Welsh says, and you're bound to get
complaints.
"We call it drip, when the water from your squeegee
gets on the window," he says. "If your window doesn't look really good,
you have to do it again."
After dropping a rope containing his bucket and a small stick of wood to
sit on, he climbs over the edge and doesn't stop working until he
reaches the ground.
Left to right, down, zigzag back up to the top left corner, then X marks the spot. One window down, countless more to go.
He
swings over to the neighboring window and affixes a suction cup to the
glass, using it to hold himself in place while he cleans. Right, down,
zigzag, zigzag, X.
It's the same routine all the way down. Drop a
few feet of rope, refasten your carabiner, dip your squeegee in the
dish soap, and swipe.
Eight hours of this is taxing, Welsh says, but it beats sitting at a desk all day.
"I
don't like feeling trapped in four walls," he says. "With this job,
you're a few days on one building, then you're jumping another one.
You're always moving around, and you get to enjoy the weather."
*****
Building
managers are required to notify tenants a few days before window
cleaners arrive, but Welsh still occasionally catches people off guard
when he drops into view. Office workers, in particular, are easy to
startle when they're absorbed in a task.
Other washers have
caught people in the throes of passion, but Welsh's most extreme
encounter was with a naked woman who promptly bolted from the room. She
returned in a robe a moment later and opened the window to say hello and
laugh about the incident.
"Some people are really nice and give you a tip," he says. "Others shut
the blinds in front of you. They think you're looking in, but really
you're just looking at the window."
Passing pedestrians often
ask questions or shout salutations and words of encouragement. Children,
in particular, get excited when they spot Welsh hanging high above.
"They're too little to understand how you're doing it," he says.
*****
Cleaning
windows requires more than a head for heights. Today, for instance,
Welsh has to contend with exterior beams that jut several yards from the
building. To reach the windows, he'll have to swing in, then cling to
the suction cup with one arm while the other reaches overhead to clean.
It's not easy on the arm muscles.
"Rock
climbers have applied before, thinking it will be kind of like a
sport," he says. "But it isn't as easy or fun as it looks to them."
His
only protection is a breathable waterproof coat and pants, a baseball
cap and a white beanie. No amount of padding would save him if he fell
anyway, and accidents are extremely uncommon. Clean Services Northwest
has never had one.
The Metropolitan project begins on a rainy,
windy and frigid morning at the outset of a particularly wet week.
Window washers squeegee through the elements.
"We try to work on the opposite side of the building so we're shielded from the wind," he says.
They cancel gigs only when the weather is unbearably bad. For all the job hazards, Welsh is paid $20 an hour.
At home, he cleans the windows only on nice days, about four times each year.
"I have little kids, so right after I clean the windows the handprints are all over anyway," he says.
Source:
http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2012/05/everyday_people_portland_high-.html
Window cleaner Mick Tate is retiring after almost 40 years. (d30051214)
Tony Gesino has been washing windows for the last 8 years.
