Rugs to Rich's

A client of mine and I have been on the hunt for some rugs for her master bedroom. We've just revealed and refinished the original hardwood floors and now it's time to cloak them with a woven work of art, full of dazzling colors. (I didn't think I was a fan of rugs until I realized that rugs can serve as the palette for the entire room. That said, I like more muted rugs. Vegetable dyes. Soft tones, simple motifs, florettes, leaf and vine patterns, and geometric anything, but I digress).
We have been working with a specific company here in Salt Lake - the only Rug company, if you ask me. It's the place I take everyone. And no, it's not The Historic Villa Theater-Turned Aladdin's Rug Palace. And no, it's not the place I posted about with the anything-but-inviting wrought iron gate surround, complete with guard dogs and a bald security officer named "Bull." The place I'm referring to has the best inventory, the best showroom, the best staff, well-versed in every woven thing. Our Rug Guy, our go-to man, our well-trained, well-versed, well-mannered sales associate is Richard, a skinny little guy who likes to dress head to toe, monochromatic: as in his hair is several shades of gray and so are is his clothing (and footwear). Reasons we like Richard-Rug-Guru: he's light on those little feet of his, happy and hopping, a wee chap in smoke-colored duds. He makes pleasant conversation. For instance, today's topic was Tempurpedic. Mattresses, that is. He can't live without one. Hauls his Tempurpedic pillow (in a gray sham, no doubt) from place to place - air, land, or sea. Back to Reasons To Love Rich: He picks up the (black) phone in one corner of the showroom (no need to dial) and says ever so pleasantly, "Jose, help with 6x9's" And we're off, just like that, to the next level where Jose greets us and the two of them begin flipping rugs. Oh! Richard does it with such flair! Hands all about, the lover of all things colorless, goes on and on about the reds, the blues, the golds: "Now this (he pauses and puts both hands out in front of him, fingers fanned) This. Is. Stunning." lingering on the "uuuhhh" sound for about half a minute. It's as if he somehow escapes to this magical place where only weavers and rug-wonderers exist, united in a Rug-Loving Purpose: to Spread The Rug. Jose (who, today, in stark contrast to our Richard, was wearing a t-shirt that said, "I'm a go-getter. My girlfriend works and I go get her") brings Richard back from his Magic Carpet Ride. Back to me, back to Jane, back to black. Jane and I are now mid-discussion will this red go with the red in her window treatments, holding up her fabric samples to see if the palette-combination would be complimentary. Our Rug-Man then puts one hand on his hip, the back of his palm at his waist, the other in a slight fist, then sits snugly under his chin. And, with a thought-provoking look, he awaits our assessment. I'm voice, stating, we like this about it, but not so much this, and the flipping with flair continues.
After today we're back to Square One, the third time around. Square One cubed. We've taken four rugs out on approval. That was just today. Richard assures us with a "Not a problem at. ALL," that this is indeed okay with his signature nasally chortle head-wobble combination. Another lift of the phone and he reports that his (delivery) men will arrive at Jayne's with the rugs first thing in the morning. Such power he has, that Rug-Guy. He might as well run the place. With one final comment about his love for all things Tempurpedic, Jayne and I are out the door, as Richard waves emphatically behind us. Next time, I hope Jose is wearing a t-shirt that says, "Spread the Rug."