Entrepreneur Window Cleaner Goes Social

"When I first started this business it was simply a means to provide for my family. I chose window cleaning because it paid well and was flexible enough for my wife and I to continue in out volunteer work.

Entrepreneur uses Instagram for positive business stories: Entrepreneur Chadwick Washington says it is a popular misconception that nothing good comes from social media. He said he wants to use Instagram, as well as Twitter and Facebook, to spread positive messages and inspirational stories from small business owners.

"These random pop culture references aren't doing anything to make you a better person," Washington said. "I know that is a way to get more followers, but that is not what I want. … My real currency is stories. Social media is a wonderful tool, but unfortunately, a majority of what it is used for doesn't make us better people. It's not uplifting, it's not educational, and that's sad."

Washington is a native of Lexington who moved to China for four years and worked as an English teacher. He said his original plan was to relocate overseas permanently, but his plans changed once he met his future wife during a visit home. In 2013, he found himself married with stepchildren and said he needed to find a new way to produce an income. He decided to open his own window washing service, but he was still feeling unsure of himself and was looking for inspiration.

Washington came up with the idea of the Instagram account called Small Business Stories after looking for similar resources to help him keep a positive outlook about owning his own business.

"I went on Instagram to find some motivating accounts that were business related, but I couldn't find any," Washington said. "I found business accounts, but they would have quotes from all these famous leaders, like Ghandi or Muhammad Ali, which is great, but how do I translate that to my life? What I was trying to find was an account that had stories from small business people talking about their challenges, triumphs and everything in between. Since I couldn't find that, I said, 'Why don't I just create it?'"

Chadwick Washington (right) uses social media, primarily Instagram, to help tell inspirational tales about small business owners in Lexington. Here Washington interviews All About Education owner Toby Prince.

Washington said his mother told him about Lexington Mayor Newell Clark, and his mission to promote Lexington as a progressive and forward-thinking community. Clark is also an avid user of social media. Washington said he had a meeting with Clark, who encouraged him to spend time highlighting the small businesses in Lexington throughout March.

"I had a flash of inspiration and got in touch with the mayor just to gauge his interest," Washington said. "I was able to sit down with him and talk about how I could focus on Lexington. He invited me to profile local small businesses and even had a few suggestions of businesses that he thought I would like."

Clark said he was happy to support a hometown champion who wants to use social media to feature business owners in the city.

"I've talked about social media and how we can leverage it to get our message out," Clark said. "He (Washington) was already down the road on what he was doing, but he got really excited about featuring his hometown. … He was so impressed with what has happened with uptown since he has gotten back. … More than anything else, I think it is folks working together that is making it successful.

"You will hear me talk about Lexington, but you will also hear me talk about Davidson County and the Triad. We are a big Triad neighbours, and we are really honing down on that by saying, 'Let's support each other, and let's promote each other.' Chadwick's story is about featuring how we are working together to transform this community, and I was glad to support him."

Washington said he is not selling anything and is not trying to become rich; he just wants to provide a platform where small business owners can join in the conversation, tell their stories and be inspired by other local entrepreneurs.

"In the middle of it all is storytelling," Washington said. "I'm not paying for advertising or trying to make money. I have all these ideas, but at the center of it is am I telling a good story?. … When I wake up in the morning, I want to read something uplifting. All I'm doing is trying to get their story, not a business bio. I want to know where their passion comes from."

This is my motivation. Until May of 2014 I had been content to roam the world as a traveling educator. Taiwan, China, Thailand, Hong Kong, The Philippines, Guyana, Trinidad .... I was free and lost at the same time. It wasn't until I met my wife and my stepdaughter that I realized I had a reason to stay in one place, that if I just put down roots I might have something to offer my community. For the first time in my life I have not just one but TWO people that depend on me, so I decided to start my own window cleaning business. That is my motivation, that is what drives me to keep fighting even though I know I'm behind the curve in almost every way. I spent almost a decade of my life bouncing from one place to the next. You learn a lot by traveling, what I didn't know is how much you can grow if you can just decide to settle down. I can't fail because it's not just about me anymore."

High Rise Stories USA

Mark Rutkowsky, above, and Eric Katzer hang off a building at Rock Pointe. The two regularly rappel off the roofs of buildings to clean windows around Spokane.

One thing is for certain: High-rise window washing is not a job for everyone. Eric Katzer said he can tell by the way job candidates walk across a roof whether they are cut out for it or not. Katzer owns and operates WestCoast Window Cleaning, a window washing company that cleans windows on tall downtown buildings like the U.S. Courthouse, the downtown post office, the Spokane Arena and on this particular day, Rock Pointe Corporate Center. “And some applicants just kind of go wobbly when they get up here,” Katzer said, while standing on the roof of Rock Pointe. “The worst thing that can happen is that they don’t tell us how scared they are before they go over the side of the building.”

Katzer got into the business when he was about 16 because he needed work and a friend’s father owned a window washing company. And today, roughly 30 years later, it’s still what he does for a living. “There’s nothing better than hanging off a building, washing windows,” Katzer said with a big smile. Katzer has rappelled down nearly every tall building in Spokane, and many in Seattle and other Northwest cities. 

He’s donned superhero costumes while washing the windows at Providence Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital, to the delight of the young patients there. Office workers may be momentarily startled as the washers swing down in front of a window pane, but most continue with their tasks. If he’s ever come across any sort of unusual behavior in an office, Katzer is not saying. “We just do our job,” he said.

The equipment he uses is pretty simple: He sits on a platform that looks like a sturdy backyard swing, with a tall bucket of window washing water dangling below it. Rags, squeegees, suction cups to hold him up against slippery glass façades and anything else he needs to do the window job is somehow attached to him.

And over the rim he goes. “I hang the platform over the edge of the building and just slide down and sit down on it,” Katzer said. The platform ropes and Katzer’s safety harness are, of course, attached to the building. Sometimes there are special attachment points on a roof. Other times Katzer runs ropes around a structure – like a huge air-conditioning unit or a ventilation tower of some sort – then attaches his ropes to that. “We know the buildings we work on very well,” Katzer said. “All the ropes and straps we use are tested on a regular basis.”

Spend a morning with Katzer and his crew and it’s very obvious he doesn’t rely on luck to keep him safe. Everything the crew does is methodical, organized and done in the safest possible manner. During an ordinary workday the biggest crisis they encounter is yellow jackets. “You see the nest and they just come at you, and you have to decide whether it’s worth it,” said Mark Rutkowsky. “The best way is usually to come back later when the bees are all in there and spray them.”

The two joke and chat as they work their way down the building, quickly and efficiently, before heading off to the next job. Do any of them climb mountains for fun? Both shake their heads no. “Climbing is for work,” Katzer said. “I can’t imagine doing it in my spare time.”

Entry level window cleaners start at $12 an hour. Pay increases with experience. As for Donahue, he says he makes enough to be a stay-at-home dad during the winter months.

It's a job that starts 85 feet in the air (Montpelier, Vt.) "Check that everything is locked, safety's on, pins, pins, pins. And you go over," Matt Donahue said. Donahue has no problem rappelling off the roof of the National Life Building in Montpelier. "And you descend down," he said. He's a high-rise window washer. In fact, he and his wife run the family business. It's an idea Donahue got from his dad. "He figured out that he could make as much money with a $20 squeegee, than he could with a $20,000 backhoe," Donahue said.

He grew up learning the business. "When I was 14 years old I did my first drop at the McClure building at Fletcher Allen when it was new," he said. "And every summer since then, I've been washing windows." In 1995, he started Donahue Window Cleaning. He only had four contracts that year. Now he has 88 clients and got so busy he had to quit being a Montpelier volunteer firefighter.

"Everyone is always happy to see the window cleaners show up. They're going to have clean windows," Donahue said. "It's a very satisfying job knowing that at the end of the drop, I look up and say, 'Wow, we just cleaned all those windows.'"

He and his team specialize in office buildings, colleges, hospitals and high-rise condos in Vermont, New Hampshire and upstate New York. They see most clients twice a year, in the spring and fall. Besides sudsing, they also caulk, reglaze windows and fix leaks.

Reporter Jennifer Reading: Is your job dangerous?

Matt Donahue: No, it's not... You check your knots, make sure your setup is proper, check the machines. It's really safe. Weather and slippery roofs are the biggest pitfalls. But he says in his 25 years he's never had a rope break. "If you asked me if I was afraid of heights, I would say yes. But it's a healthy respect that I have for it. You can't ever forget where you are and what you're doing to be safe," he explained.

Remaining injury-free is definitely a team effort. They work in pairs. One dangles from the ropes, squeegee and mop in hand, while the other monitors the progress from above, slowly moving their partner across the massive buildings using a machine called a wall walker. "If I tell someone I'm a window cleaner they think, yeah, well anyone can do that," Donahue said.

A theory I decided to put to the test. For safety reasons, I went up from the bottom rather than over the top with my bucket, seat and squeegee. And it wasn't exactly pretty. It's harder than it looks; Donahue and his team make it look really easy. With each mop swipe, gravity swung me away from the building, resulting in an accessory casualty-- my necklace broke. OK, so I'm slightly less graceful than the pros, but I sure put on a show for everyone inside.

"When they see the ropes dangle in front of the windows they go, 'Oh, the window cleaners are coming.' But once in a while you really do scare somebody and they just 'BAHHHHH!' Some people actually get up and leave office. They can't deal with someone hanging out their window," Donahue said. He admits the gig's not for everyone and, at times, struggles to fill his crew.

"Spiders. Spiders love the sides buildings. If you don't like heights, you don't like spiders, it's not the job for you," he said. But for this Charlotte dad, the nine-month work schedule and a love of Mother Nature make this Odd Job a perfect fit.

Matt Donahue: What scares me the most is looking in the windows at the people working in cubicles. I wouldn't want to do that.

Jennifer Reading: Do you think you have an odd job?

Matthew Donahue: No... I can't see myself doing anything else, honestly. I really enjoy it.
So now the million dollar question: what's the secret to squeaky clean windows? Donahue says it's all about what's in the bucket and spills that the odd ingredient behind his success is laundry detergent. Entry level window cleaners start at $12 an hour. Pay increases with experience. As for Donahue, he says he makes enough to be a stay-at-home dad during the winter months.

Ned Harris considers himself lucky to be alive, surviving a 20-story fall as a high rise window cleaner in Hawaii in 1978.

Not ready to hang it up, Kelso man, 88, opens dry cleaning business: “My whole family thinks I’m nutty for doing this, but I need something to do,” says 88-year-old Kelso resident Ned Harris. After owning many businesses throughout his life, the Kelso native decided to open Discount Dry Cleaners at 1146 15th Avenue in Longview to keep himself busy. He considers himself lucky to even be alive after surviving a 20-story fall as a high rise window cleaner in Hawaii in 1978.

“Today I feel lucky because I don’t know how the hell I made it to 88, but I did. All my friends ... are dying on me and it’s really sad,” he said, adding that he also lost his wife three years ago. “I don’t like being a bachelor.” The 88-year-old World War II veteran has lived in Hawaii, Alaska and other places, but he’s always returned to Kelso. “This is home for me,” he said. “My family thinks I am too damn old and their probably right. How I made it to this point after my big fall is luck. But now I’m 88 and I know damn well I’m lucky.”

Two Window Cleaning Stories

SHORT STORY: JUDGING A BOOK BY ITS COVER - By Adele Parks

Sarah loved her children visiting from university for the weekend, even though white towels became bruised with smudges of mascara, jars and bottles repelled their lids, bins spat out litter and tables were tattooed with coffee rings.
 

After a clear-up that took all morning, Sarah sank back into her couch, balancing her tea and biscuits, and admired the order she’d re-established. Until a tap at the front door disturbed her.
 

“Afternoon, Sarah.”
 

Sarah would have preferred it if Michael, the window cleaner, called her Mrs Jackson. She had tried to call him Mr Simmons – the name on his van – but he’d made a joke about his dad being retired and insisted she call him Mike. They compromised with Michael.
 

“Can you refill my bucket?” Michael asked with a polite smile. He always asked for fresh water now, to Sarah’s delight. It was a joy to her when the sunlight bounced through her streak-free windows. “Have you been spring cleaning?” he asked.
 

“Yes, the kids were home this weekend.”
 

Michael followed her through to the kitchen. “How are they? Working hard?”
 

“Fine, I think. The only thing they worry about is me. Amanda suggested I consider internet dating. She thinks I’m short on company.”
 

“Are you?”
 

“Not at all.”
 

Michael had been cleaning Sarah’s windows for five years. For four of them they’d barely spoken. Sometimes she’d sit inside a room reading, while he worked outside. Sarah didn’t intend to be rude; she just didn’t know what to say to him. What could they have in common? Then, about a year ago, he’d asked for some clean water, and they’d shared a few words. Now they had a cup of tea together every week. Michael was easy to talk to.

He knew all about her children’s exams, he understood her anxiety about moving her father into an assisted-living flat. Michael knew a lot about Sarah’s life. She knew nothing of his. He wore a wedding ring. Any inquiry from a divorcee might seem inappropriate. It might also be inappropriate to admit that yes, sometimes she was short of a certain type of company.
 

Sarah nervously searched around for a new topic of conversation. Suddenly Michael seemed very big and very male, standing in her neat, gleaming kitchen. His eyes settled on Sarah’s novel.
 

“It’s the book group’s choice,” she said.
 

Michael picked up the book and started to read the blurb. Irrationally, Sarah felt embarrassed. Was it the sort of book he’d enjoy? It was very deep and complex.
 

“Any good?” he asked.
 

“I’m enjoying it.”
 

“Why?”
 

Sarah loved books. She enjoyed exploring the world from the comfort of her sofa. But suddenly she found it impossible to articulate.
 

“Oh, it’s... unexpected,” she mumbled. “Biscuit?”
 

“I think your window cleaner sounds interesting,” said Cath, with a grin that Sarah dreaded.
 

“Let’s stick to the novel,” she replied. It frustrated her that every month the book group followed the same chaotic course; wine was poured, gossip flowed, the book was forgotten.
 

“We can’t start yet,” said Julie. “We’re expecting a new member.”
 

The worst thing about the gossip was that the book group’s whole purpose seemed to be finding Sarah a new man. But it was difficult for Sarah to imagine meeting anyone. When asked what she wanted in a man, she’d say she wanted someone steady, financially secure, diligent.
 

“Dull, you mean,” objected Cath.
 

“I mean someone like Liam.”
 

“But Liam had an affair and left you,” said Cath. “And anyway I think you secretly fancy your window cleaner.”
 

The door bell rang.
 

“Can I introduce Mike Simmons,” said Julie.
 

Seeing Michael out of context and in smarter clothes startled Sarah. He startled the other ladies, too; they sat with their backs straight and chests out, grinning and wide-eyed. Before Sarah had a chance to tell the others that they knew each other, Cath, surprisingly, started to talk about the book.
 

“I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to read it, have you, Mike?”
 

“I only picked it up last week but I managed to finish it this morning.”
 

“Good going. It’s chunky, isn’t it?”
 

“Yes, but fascinating. The characters are so complex yet completely believable.”
 

For the rest of the evening, Sarah listened as Michael enthused about books. He was familiar with classics and contemporary works; he mesmerized her with his perceptiveness and confidence. How had she known him for five years yet not known him at all?
 

“You were quiet this evening,” said Michael in the hallway. “I thought you liked the book.”
 

“I did. It’s just that…”
 

“She’s shy,” added Cath, fortified by half a bottle of wine. “Are you married?”
 

“Widowed. Nine years ago,” he said. “Look, maybe we could go for a coffee,” he added, turning back to Sarah.
 

“Then you can tell me your thoughts on the book without a crowd.”
 

“Don’t waste your time, Mike. You’re not her type,” laughed Cath.
 

Sarah froze.
 

“She has a type?” he asked, with a curious grin.
 

“Yes, she’s after a bit of rough. She fancies her window cleaner. You’re far too smart.”
 

“That’s interesting,” said Michael. “But you know what they say – never judge a book by its cover.”

Raking in lifetime lessons: The tiny woman around the corner - By Sean Kirst

I often think of her in the autumn, as I rake leaves or hang storm windows. Her name was Gladys Mahaney, although she was always Mrs. Mahaney to me. She weighed maybe 90 or 100 pounds, and she’d keep her arms folded when she came outside to inspect my work, and it’s been a quarter-century or so since I last saw her.

Yet as I do the jobs we all do around the house — as I sometimes cut corners to save a little time — I know exactly how she would respond:

Unless a job is done right, it isn’t done.

Mrs. Mahaney lived in a small, one-story white house about a block away from my childhood home. She and her husband had the place built, probably long before World War II. He was a banker, if I recall correctly, and he’d been dead a long time before I started working in the yard. In the living room, Mrs. Mahaney had photos that showed her husband with some beautiful Collies. It took me a while to understand why those photos held no children.

Memories fade, blur or turn into myth as we grow older, but I remember — distinctly — meeting Mrs. Mahaney. I was in junior high, and her street offered a “cut through” to a neighborhood where we used to play ball. She was standing in the yard one day as I walked past. She was tiny, white-haired, and when our eyes met, I wondered if there was a problem. I could tell she wanted to say something, but she was hesitant, fighting her own instincts.

“Excuse me,” she finally said. “Would you be interested in some lawn work?”

Relieved, I told her, “Sure.” I could always use a few dollars. How hard could it be?

I had absolutely no clue.

By that point, Mrs. Mahaney was deep into her 70s, and she kept her hair piled high atop her head, and she demanded absolute perfection in her yard. In autumn, that meant putting up the storm windows she kept in the garage, each one labeled and stacked in precise order. Once the screens came down, every window in the house had to be cleaned. I assumed it would be easy enough. I got a bucket of water, a few rags and some Windex, and I thought: Maybe an hour, and I’ll be playing touch football with my friends.

Arms folded, Mrs. Mahaney explained differently.

She showed me, by her standards, how to wash a window. You start off by cleaning it thoroughly with a dry cloth, she said, or else you’re just “spreading mud on glass.” Once that’s done, you use wet paper towels to scrub the window — rags, she said, leave behind fibers and threads — and finally, only then, you use Windex to bring the shine.

Done her way, the job took three times as long. My friends would stop by, take in the scene and sadly wander away.

But the windows glistened. Decades later, I taught my children to clean glass as I learned the job from Mrs. Mahaney.

For her, any task involved similar discipline. When I mowed the lawn, she’d order me to drag the mower backward for the five rows or so closest to her garden; if you’re careless, she said, the mower spreads weeds among the blossoms. The gutters had to be cleaned exactly so, and the sidewalks always needed to be edged, and the leaves in the fall had to go into neat piles.

Still, the work kept me in money for the movies, and it led to jobs with other retirees who lived along the street, and I kept going back. I began to feel mingled gratitude and responsibility toward this tiny woman, who always dressed impeccably, as if prepared for a work day in an office.

As the years went by, she let down her guard, just a bit. She’d occasionally make me a sandwich for lunch, and I began to learn a little of her story. When she was a young woman, Mrs. Mahaney became dangerously ill. The doctors told her she had tuberculosis. They performed surgery to collapse one of her lungs, then sent her to a sanitarium to recover.

At that time, she had yet to marry her husband. They had been dating for years, but had not scheduled a wedding. Other men, she said, might have deserted her, especially after realizing she’d lost any chance of having children. He kept the faith. He routinely made the long drive to visit her. When she was finally allowed to go home, the couple got married and built a life, with their new house and their Collies.

Then they grew old, her husband died and her own strength began to fail.

One day, grudgingly, she asked for help from a kid in the street.

That kid worked for her as he went from junior high, to high school and on to college. I still tended the yard throughout those years, until the world called and the time came for me to move away. I said goodbye to Mrs. Mahaney, and we exchanged Christmas cards and the occasional phone call from afar. When she died, I didn’t hear about it until long after the funeral. They buried her with her husband in St. Mary’s Cemetery, the same graveyard that holds my mother and my father.

When I’m there, when I can, I stop by Mrs. Mahaney’s grave. The duties, these days, are pretty simple: I pull out any tall grass near her stone, and I use my hands to brush the dust from her name.

Three Window Cleaning Stories For Friday

Noreen and Derek Walton of Todd Lane North, Lostock Hall, with the remainder of the window treatment they believe they were duped into buying.

Couple fear firm has duped others: It was supposed to be a simple window treatment that would make life easier for pensioners Derek and Noreen Walton. But the trusting couple, aged 78 and 74, shelled out £1,410 to unscrupulous salesmen to paint conservatory window panes with “self cleaning liquid” and replace two panes of glass at their bungalow. Now, they are urging others targeted by Vistec Energy, which was fined £14,200 over 10 similar cases last week, to come forward. Retired Royal Ordnance factory worker Noreen said: “We only realised we were victims after seeing the Evening Post last week, although we grew suspicious after the work. We know they were already fined but are worried people who couldn’t afford it were tricked and are afraid to speak out.”

After agreeing to a visit via a cold call, the couple, from Todd Lane North, Lostock Hall, near Preston, were told Clearshield treatment would make windows self cleaning. Salesman James Meah, who admitted two counts of engaging in unfair practice during last week’s case, told the Waltons the £3,900 work minus a ‘grant’ of £2,400 would be £1,410. Clearshield actually costs around £50 to treat a three bed semi. Noreen added: “He even made a call to check about the grant - now we know it was fake.” Nick McNamara, principal officer at Trading Standards, said: “Six other calls have been made to Consumer Direct since the sentencing.” The firm was fined £14,200 last Wednesday after pleading guilty before Preston magistrates to 10 charges under unfair trading regulations. They were unavailable for comment.

Media Distortion: The Economy Roars Back: There's an interesting story to start with today.  This is a Politico story, and it was out last night.  Obviously this story was written before this morning's unemployment report came out.  Now, the unemployment number, 8.3%, no change, and you would not believe the way this is being reported.  Why, we are in a roaring-back economy.  We have got a recovery that's unprecedented.  Have you noticed it, Dawn?  No, I mean the reporting.  Wherever you look on radio, television, and print, you would believe that we are sitting atop the greatest powder keg of an economic recovery that there ever has been.  It is universal.

The labor force participation rate is essentially the entire universe of jobs available in the country, and there are over two million less jobs, two million fewer jobs. They just don't exist anymore. Whereas there used to be an ABC Window Washer outfit, for example, when Obama was immaculated in 2009, the place has shut down. So the ABC Window Washer jobs are gone. That is why people talk about creating new jobs. If we need to create new jobs and we need new jobs, it means there are fewer jobs to fill. So if same time number of jobs existed...

If all the ABC Window Washer outfits had been closed down, if they were still open, and those jobs were still available, based on current numbers the actual unemployment rate would be 10.8% not 8.3%. So the universe of available jobs matters. There is no way you can tell me that the American economy, with two million fewer jobs today than three years ago, is in any way upbeat. You've got the same number of people looking for fewer jobs. That's why the percentage changes. You have the same number of people looking for fewer jobs. It's like musical chairs: Every time the music stops, somebody's left out because there aren't enough chairs. It's the same principle here. So the 8.3% unemployment rate is meaningless. It's bogus because we're not comparing apples to apples. Part of the Obama economic record is that there are two million fewer ABC Window Washer jobs than there were when he was immaculated in 2009.

And finally...

Move Carefully or Get Caught In The Act: Fresh from this year's Game Developers Conference, we have video from Kotaku's Stephen Totilo showing upcoming iOS title The Act. The lush, cinematically animated 2D game is a comic cartoon in which players control Edgar, a hapless window washer in pursuit of Sylvia, the woman of his dreams.

As the video demonstrates better than a description can, players have only one control — a gesture to the left or right — but through it can control the pacing, timing, and mood of the scenes they play. The brief demonstration above shows that even the choice of how quickly or slowly to move across a room can affect what happens when you get where you're going.

Originally designed as an arcade game in 2007, The Act is now finding a home on iOS devices and will be available for download in spring or summer of this year. The developer's website has a thorough summary of the title's complicated development history, as well as short bios on all the major characters.

The story follows a Brooklyn hospital’s window washer, named Edgar, as he pursues the affections of the beautiful nurse Sylvia. The game opens with Edgar gazing longingly through a window at his lady love; his work falters as he slips into a daydream. We see Edgar now looking slick in a white-on-white suit with a black bowtie in a restaurant/bar with a distinctly Middle Eastern flavor. He’s essentially become Bogie in Casablanca. His very own Ilsa, Sylvia, sits at the bar, turned away from him.
The game’s controls are relatively simple to explain. Whenever a movie slate-style “Play Now” icon appears on the screen, it’s up to the player to swipe to the left and/or right to influence what’s happening on the screen. In this case, the idea is to swipe very gradually to the right, edging Edgar toward Sylvia in stages, closer and closer and she becomes more and more responsive. The sequence that follows adds another wrinkle. Edgar is back in the real world, yanked there by an angered boss unhappy with his and his brother’s flagging work. A balancing act begins, with leftward swipes pushing the boss back through the window while rightward swipes keep the oafish brother working.