Friday, February 10, 2012
Throw in the clutch and let's go
I thought I was done with clutches but not so. I have an automatic car, yes. But recently the washing machine repair man had to be called and when I described the problem he (eventually, but that's another story,) said he would bring a new clutch for it. I had visions of myself driving the washing machine down the road. He said, yes it was just like a car (the clutch, not the washing machine.) For some reason, though the repair people kept writing down on their work orders, "no final rinse." When the repairman showed up the first time, he complained that the problem I had with it was not the one he had been told about and therefore had no part. So on to phase two. I kept saying, about the "no final rinse" description, "that's not right, I get too much water in the towels because it doesn't spin it all out of them."Then I guess the work order was changed to, "water remaining in bottom of machine". How can we both speak English and yet fail to communicate? I also explained this concept at length but I think the "man listening to woman" ear problem kicked in, i.e., the ear automatically turns off. So, today, the repairman is back with a clutch, in spite of his workorder which still reads "no final rinse" He is really the nicest man and tries to help. He has replaced the clutch now and says that the problem was really not all that bad to start with. Well, maybe this is a philosophical question, now, as to how bad is bad? He says sometimes people don't call until their washer refuses to spin at all. I'm feeling a little like a wimp, now. I haven't "toughed it out" until my washer sat there sullenly with its belly full of wet clothes swimming in water which has not spun out. The man left saying they would send a bill. I wonder how the problem will be described there? Not that it matters - we'll still have to pay it. Maybe I should write a mystery around it. In the style of Stephen King, repairman is drawn into washer and disappears. In the style of Agatha Christie, neighbor comes in and gives him a cup of tea laced with arsenic. In the style of Tom Clancy, the machine is wired to send a code to the upstairs computer which forwards it to a foreign nation. Well, maybe none of those, we'll see.
Posted by Shirley E. Watson at 11:15 AM