If in this day and age, small annoyances happen, one can at least be grateful when one's predicaments turn out to be blogworthy.
Our wonderful next door neighbours donated a brand new dishwasher to the church manse, which means us ( at least while we have the job!) How wonderful it has been as well. I really don't know what I ever did without one.
Well that is I didn't, till about six weeks ago when the jolly thing conked out. Then I remembered what not having a dishwasher was like.(with great weeping and gnashing of teeth!)
It being only 3 months old and still under warranty I called up the store where we'd bought it and they gave me the nunber of their dishwasher fixit company. Easy.
" Right', said he (Fixit man extraordinaire!) "I'll be out on Wednesday."
Well, Wednesday came and Wednesday went. Nothing.
So did two more Wednesdays. Still nothing!!
Then one day, exactly 3 weeks late, this young guy in a mr. fixit uniform, showed up out of the blue on our doorstep.
No sorry, no explanation, nothing.
The blase' way he acted, as if he'd only just been told about the job, had me wondering if he was some kind of serial killer. ( I'd better stop reading crime fiction, I suppose.)
After a quick fiddle with our ailing machine he announced that the pump had had it (!!! a 3 month old pump? Had it? Already?!!!!!) and he'd be back in a couple of days with a new one.
The tension mounts: One week went by, then two. Now this was just getting ridiculous.
I got the number of the business, and asked if I could maybe expect them back before Christmas dinner ? (well actually, I just timidly enquired as to whether I had missed a visit from one of their fixit men.)
After a great deal of 'hem' ing and 'haw' ing the secretary said "The part should be here soon" (which I knew to mean "Dang, knew we forgot to order someone's new part!!)
A week and a half went by!!! Then we got a phone call.
" Just wanted to know if you'll be home. I'm coming to fix your dishwasher."
Conclusion: In which we meet the boss and suddenly it all makes a lot more sense.
20 minutes later, this guy's twin (look above. Ooops, only just noticed that this pic makes faces. Sorry 'bout that!) showed up.
He looked about a hundred: all bent over, and hobbling along in his tiny pair of work shorts .
When he actually made it to our house, the first thing he needed was to use the toilet( !!! He had only just come from his office 10 minutes away!)
That took a good while.
Then he 'hem'ed and 'haw'ed over the dishwasher for some time before setting a cardboard box on the counter.
"I probably should have made sure this box has got your right bit in it,' he wheezed. "The last two jobs, I've had the wrong bit, so I had to go back to the office." (!!!!!)
To add to the chaos; as this insanity was unfolding, we were in the middle of enjoying morning tea with visitors.
But poor old Hubby spent most of his time running back and forth to lift things, reach for things, and hold things for our geriatric fixit dude. Listen I would have done anything to assist the man myself. I didn't want his health to fail before my machine was fixed. (Is that wrong?)
But the job is now done, and our dishwasher is humming away happily again.
Oh, and by the way, we did not need a new pump after all. Mr Fixit discovered a sliver of a broken plate which had jammed the pump. After this was removed, it worked fine!