Dear Roborock
You suck. It's over.
Dear Roborock,
It’s not me, it’s you.
You had me at hello, with your sleek body that glided effortlessly across the floor and both picked up all the crumbs and dust of the day and at the same time you mopped too.
It was love at first sight, but then after a few weeks - the shine and novelty of finding a new love had dulled a bit.
Your decline started out slow. It’s not like you stopped caring all at once, but it was more of death by a thousand cuts - or mops - if you prefer. You thought I wouldn’t notice but I saw that over time the gliding was more effort and the streaks. OMG the streaks. Once I saw them, I could not unsee them. I’m sorry.
Again, I thought it was me at first because how could you betray me like this? I was willing to look the other way and pretend the streaks didn’t happen. But they happened again.
“Maybe it was the soap ratio”, I said to myself. I guess it doesn’t matter because at this point my love for you was diminished greatly - but that one night when I came home and you would not come back to the dock was the final straw.
It had to happen - I had to get you fixed. I emailed your boss and he said to try cleaning the sensors and resetting and have I cleaned the filter? I did all those things but no matter what I tried the results were the same - you would wander amongst the dog hair in the living room - searching and searching, but never being able to find home.
“Send it in, we’ll have a look at her”, the head office said. So I did. I gathered up all your brushes and tanks and cords and chargers and after about 17 unsuccessful attempts I managed to put you back in the box you came in.
You were never meant to go back. We had a thing. I watched with tears as the UPS truck took you away to get repaired all the way across the country. I though thought of all those hours where I would just watch you work.
Then, I counted the days - the first one was the hardest because I had to remember how to work a real broom and I cried and cried. My back hurt as much as my heart, I missed you so.
After what seemed like an eternity (about 4 days) I heard the news: you were coming back to me. I jumped with joy when the UPS tracking showed you were coming back to me a day early. I was so excited to see you again!
You arrived in a different box. At first I thought I had gotten an upgraded model (kind of like Jeff Bezos has now) but upon unboxing you were the same old model.
They hadn’t even cleaned you up. The service ticket stated that you were fine, but the dock - it’s always the dock - had the communication issues. A new dock would rekindle our relationship like it had been before, they told me.
But I had my suspicions. The first one was that they didn’t even try and refurbish you in the least and then the tell-tale sign of the replacement dock having the same bright orange elastic band on I sent you with. If this was a new dock, it would come with a newly spooled cord and sleek black twist tie - and it didn’t
Ever hopeful, I plugged in the dock and pressed the “Home” button.
You tried, you did. You wandered around the house like the dog does at dinnertime looking and searching for a place to rest. But you couldn’t find home. You clicked and clunked against every piece of furniture in the room except for the dock.
Sure, I could dock you manually but I paid for the self-docking feature and I just can’t live with another thing I have to care for. I mean, I already have the child. How much can a guy handle? You understand, of course.
I’m sorry Roborock, but it’s over. I’ve got my eyes on another model with dual spinning brushes that lift to go over carpet that self clean and dry! I hear she even has a self cleaning feature.
I’ll never forget you Roborock because you were my first vacuum but I’ve moved on. I tried, but you know the saying: fool me once….
May you find your perfect dock one day.
All the Best,
TH and Co.
Very sorry for your loss...