Chloe's was never meant to be a business. It grew, one doorstep at a time, because the people who hired us told other people. Nine years in, we still hold the line at one studio, one team, and one town.
The first client was a neighbour two doors up — an elderly man whose daughter lived in Sheffield and worried about the kitchen. Chloe cleaned it on a Thursday morning and took home £40 in a folded envelope. On the Friday he called and asked if she'd come every week.
By the end of that year there were eleven houses, a battered Nissan Micra, and a growing conviction that the people cleaning homes for other people were undervalued almost everywhere. When Chloe started hiring — first Rita, then Małgorzata — she decided to employ, not contract. To pay above the living wage. To train for three weeks before trusting anyone with a key.
That felt slow. It still does. It's also why we've kept clients for seven, eight, nine years — and why the same cleaner who does your house in June will, most likely, be the one doing it in December.
We'll probably never open a second branch. We'll certainly never franchise. And if you ring on a Tuesday, Joanna will answer by the third ring, because that's how she likes it.
We don't hire in bulk. Each new cleaner joins for three weeks of training, shadowing, and studio lunches before they hold a client key.
Started the company on a Thursday in March.
Runs deep cleans and trains new starters.
Our holiday-let expert — 40 changeovers a month.
Is the reason the glasswork always looks like that.
The voice on the phone, most Tuesdays.
Joined after ten years running a café kitchen.