Filed under: Life
The dishwasher repairman came some time after three. He started off cheerful, with a thick accent I struggled to place. He sounded surprised when I excused myself to get out of his way and I wondered if he expected me to stand there and chat the whole time; a few pleasantries and we were done, right? I wondered what cultural miscues were going on here.
I remembered reading a Dennis the Mennis cartoon when I was a kid, a plumber under the sink and Dennis right by him and the guy wrapping it up by saying, Well, I could have done it in an hour, lady, but with your little boy’s help it was two and a half. And my mom, when I showed it to her because it so echoed her own strict orders to us when someone had had to come out, answering, And *that* is why I make you stay away!
Right. So. My momma taught me. Repairmen. You stay out of their way.
There was the whirrr whirrr as he took the door apart screw by screw, like we had so many times, only with better faster tools. It didn’t take him too long before he was calling out to me as I sat and knitted in the next room to tell me the circuit board had short-circuited.
(Exactly as Richard had guessed.)
But he didn’t have the part, he would have to order it. No, he couldn’t tell me yet how much it would cost. He would call me in a few days and come back with it.
He looked annoyed and I had no idea why.
I don’t know if Maytag is willing to pay for that second visit or if they’d expected him to come more prepared; I do know we’ve replaced that circuit board before. Probably a good idea if I go talk to them again.
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