THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, April 9, 1995 TAG: 9504050087
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K3 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: My Job
SOURCE: BY KRYS STEFANSKY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 74 lines
A PAIR OF BLACK and white houndstooth check wool slacks gets shoved aside. She picks another pair, khaki.
Tshhhhhht. Sandra Diggs' face disappears behind a cloud of steam heated to 250 degrees. Slipped onto a ``topper,'' a machine with a mechanical waistline that snaps open, the khaki pants hang suspended, empty legs dangling in midair.
Tshhhhht. Her sure hands smooth down the front, the length of the zipper, across both pockets.
Diggs makes a quarter turn, leans over and spreads the pants on what looks like an ironing board. She pulls down a second one from overhead, slams it shut and, Tshhhhhhht, the steam hisses out again, flattening the leg creases.
Diggs turns again to her right, slips them over a padded pillow on a stick and, Tshhhhht, her face vanishes again in a gray vapor.
Diggs, 44, is a pants presser. She's spent seven years in the dry cleaning business, the past two pressing pants.
``I like it,'' she says, steam settling over her curls. ``It's only hard when you first start. The hardest thing is learning to crease the pants the right way. It's easy to double crease them by accident.''
Tshhhhht. Diggs turns to the left again, pushes away the houndstooth checks a second time and picks her next pair, gray gabardine. Two big hooks hold her morning's work at Dominion Cleaners on Princess Anne Road in Virginia Beach.
``At home, I have the ironing board set up all the time,'' she says, smiling. Diggs' own jeans are neatly creased down the fronts and backs of both legs. There's always something to press with two daughters at home in Green Run, one in high school, one in college.
Diggs pushes back the sleeve of her sweatshirt and touches up the gray pants with an iron. She dresses warmly. Looks comfortable.
``I have to dress warm,'' she says, nodding across the room, toward the draft of open doors and windows. ``If I don't, and go over there to take a break, I'll get cold.'' On her feet all day, she wears Dr. Scholl loafers, black, with soft soles.
It's not a dream job. Around holidays, when people dress up, dry cleaning gets a little crazy. The crew works until it's done - eight, nine, 10 hours a day. Employees earn, on average, about $5 an hour. In summer, the workroom of the dry cleaners gets hot.
But Diggs likes it even then. ``We have a small group here, and it's just like family,'' she says.
At the station beside her, something puffs up to twice its normal size and hisses. ``That's Susan,'' says Diggs, grinning, oblivious to the sudden noise. The steam mannequin takes creases out of shirts and dresses.
Of all the pants, Diggs likes to press military slacks best.
``No tucks, no gathers,'' she says, flattening the khaki polyester of a Navy uniform. If pants are simple, Diggs figures she can press 50 or 60 an hour, easy. On the other hand, she can't stand pressing the oversized jeans teens are wearing these days, or that difficult ladies' garment - shorts with the skirt flap in the front.
``Skorts,'' she harrumphs, ``Try pressing some of those.''
But lined pants are the hardest to press, she says, eyeing the black and white houndstooth checks, still dangling from the hook. She reaches for them.
``Mm, mmh,'' she murmurs to herself. An optical illusion makes the checks dance and shiver on the press pad. Her hands pass back and forth over the fabric. ``That pattern is hard to see. It messes you up.''
Then, slam, she squeezes the slacks between the pads. Tsssssht. Two crisp creases down the fronts and backs of both legs.
``Mm, hmm,'' she says, letting loose a satisfied smile, and hangs them up. ILLUSTRATION: Photo by PETER D. SUNDBERG
Sandra Diggs presses pants at Dominion Cleaners.
by CNB