This might sound crazy, but today the happiest sound I’ve heard has been of a washer and dryer working in tandem.
Working being the operative word here.
Y’all might recall that we have had some washing machine issues. As in, I’ve tried everything. The last straw was a load of towels that took hours for the load to actually complete–it kept giving me an error message as though it was off-balance. And I kept correcting what I could and telling it to go again.
It was time. The Fella called the folks about the warranty. He told them we were D-O-N-E Done.
It was three weeks ago when they came out to repair. Or to assess–hard to tell what the goal was. The repairman was very kind, but he said he had to order two parts, and it would take about a week to get them in.
Fast forward to three weeks later, three weeks of us piece-mealing and being very conservative with our clothes usage and whatnot, and the Fella called the repair folks again. Ah. The parts had just come in. They’d be out to work on it the next day.
I know we’ve been fortunate. We haven’t had to wear dirty clothes. We haven’t had to go buy new clothes to make do. The washer would do its job as long as I didn’t run more than 1/3 of a full load at the time. And nothing bulky like towels or jackets.
Oh dear planet, I am so sorry. But yeah, I have had to use it that way. For three weeks. But we have been conservative with how many items we’ve gone through. That was the best I could do.
So two days ago the repairman returned. With the parts. And he listened to what I told him about its behavior–seriously I felt like I was tattle telling on a friend who’d been misbehaving–and he shook his head. He did a few things with the washer and then came out to tell me the news.
“It’s the motor. Gonna have to order a new one.”
Um, yep. That sounds about right. *sigh*
I asked him how long he thought it would take to order it and get it in. “Well, I’d like to say a week, but you see how it went with these parts…..” he said apologetically.
I get it. It’s not his fault. It’s not anyone’s fault really. But there’s a difference between being worthy of blame and being responsible. The folks we bought it from–it’s not their fault either, but it’s their responsibility. I called them while the repairman was still here and all but begged them to call it. Time to replace.
Insisted might be a better word. Put the pressure on. Played the “I have five people living in this house and piles of laundry and even bedding to wash on occasion (remember that glass of juice?) and my sanity depends on me having a washer that works in the next 48 hours” card.
I tried. I lowered the velvet hammer the Fella says I carry. After a couple of phone calls, I finally spoke to someone who sympathized and said, “Well, even if the powers that be say that we still have to try to fix it, we can get you a loaner. That’s a part of the warranty you have. A loaner until it can be fixed or replaced.”
What. on. earth?!?
Don’t get me wrong. I was thankful. I was so worried we were about to go washerless into another work week for two out of the five of us–you know, the ones with jobs where it matters what kind of clothes you wear, not just that you wear something. A loaner? Bring it. But…..
I tried one more time yesterday before the loaner was delivered when I realized all the to and fro’ing it was going to take to get our washer out of the laundry room and the loaner in, and then–whenever the motor should arrive–we’d have to do it all over again and it still might not work.
I was exhausted before we even began. I called and spoke to the most helpful person I’ve dealt with so far. He checked and double checked. Bottom line, they have to try to fix it. But he was helpful and listened to my woes. Less than an hour later, two kind men from the store eased my washer out, brought in the loaner, made sure it ran, and left with smiles on their faces. Nice guys. They never even blinked at the chaos in the garage or the madness in our house.
I don’t know if they were out of the neighborhood good before we had the washer started–up and running with a pre-load, just to sanitize it. Because that’s how we roll, but our (my) OCD is another story.
Most of yesterday evening and much of today has been spent listening to the happy whirring of a machine. No beeping at me that it isn’t happy. It doesn’t even have a computer board. So no beeps, no happy melodies, no going off kilter. Just good old-fashioned getting the job done.
Each and every single load.
Do you want to stay with me forever, little one? I like you.
So here’s the lesson, my friends. I cannot believe that this is the second washer we’ve had to go kaput and the second round with this one, and yet this is the first time I’ve heard about a loaner. Ahem. One might think they really don’t want to be bothered with doing that unless they have to. I mean, if one didn’t know better or anything. But surely it was an oversight. (And yes, there’s probably some paperwork around here that I should have read that had that clause in it, but still, why is this the first time they’re offering it to us?) So y’all push. Push for what you want and what you need. Ask. The worse they can do is say no. Squeak. It can get you places. Or at least get you loaner appliances. And clean everything. And sanity. Which is probably the most important thing that squeaking can get you.
Tonight I’m thankful for that repairman who has shot straight with me from the beginning. I’m thankful for the guy who finally offered us the loaner and for the guys who delivered it and got us up and running. I appreciate the salesman on the phone who was honest with me about which brand to consider if we do wind up replacing this one. (Because we sure won’t be getting another one of these.) I’m grateful for the Fella making phone calls and telling them whatever it took to get the ball rolling a little faster…..or in some cases, at all. Most of all, I’m thankful for my Mama in me–the way I was able to call and insist they do something to make this right? That was all her. She was good at things like that, and I guess I might have learned a thing or two sitting at her feet. Funny how as the years go by I don’t mind sounding or acting like her like I might have once upon a time.
Wishing you all the ability to squeak when you need it, and someone who will listen and respond.
And clean laundry. Oh the bliss…..
Love to all.