It was a week when the rest of the world was grappling with serious threats: War in the Middle East, the United Nations debate over Iraq, hostages held by Chechen rebels in a Moscow theater, North Korea’s secret nuclear weapons program; and, closer to home, the Beltway sniper, who randomly shot a dozen ordinary citizens with whom he had no specific gripe.
Meanwhile, my week was mired in the mundane. Who would guess that the replacement of a kitchen appliance could command seven days of shopping, $30 in telephone calls, two evenings reading the Consumer Reports Buying Guide and at least 12 hours of just plain waiting.
It used to be that a new family bought appliances that would last a lifetime, or at the very least, a generation or two. It was not unheard of for young families to inherit their parents’ stoves, refrigerators and washing machines.
I got my mother-in-law’s wringer washer, a clothesline and a bag of wooden clothespins. Until we moved into our new house seven years ago, I’d never bought a new appliance. I did buy a series of used refrigerators, none for more than $100, usually from folks who said they were remodeling. I chose them for their size and color, passing up those tinted avocado and harvest gold. I bought a Gaffers & Sattler gas range for $100, white with a stainless steel top and a pancake griddle between the burners. It was still working perfectly when I found a solid copper Chambers range, with pancake griddle and broiler on top and a deep-well cooker. My all time biggest extravagance at $200. It was worth every penny. Chambers used to sell these heavily insulated wonders, which cooked on retained heat with the gas off, with a lifetime guarantee. It is, in fact, still cooking its sturdy little heart out in the old ranch house, where we cook when the new stove breaks down.
Anyway, I bought all these used appliances without ever once consulting Consumer Reports. This was probably okay in simpler times. Nowadays, one had better do the research.
We bought the Magic Chef gas range through a dealer recommended by our contractor. Bad plan. The oven always had a quirky thermostat. Sometimes it would heat to the required temperature and then shut down when the door was opened to put in the food. Sometimes it wouldn’t turn on at all. Other times, after going on and turning off, it would inexplicably fire up again and burn everything. And it lied. The green display light always read the set temperature even when stone cold. We’ve had to install three new electronic components, at $100 a pop, which the repair guy says is the only thing that can possibly go wrong. For each, we waited three or four weeks for the part to arrive, and once they sent the wrong part. The last electronic gizmo lasted a fast two months and since then, the oven has remained cold as a well digger’s rear.
Tired of soggy souffls and half-baked cakes and with serious cooking season fast approaching, the search was on.
General Electric and Hotpoint topped the list for best repair record, with electric models needing fewer repairs than gas. Electric should be more energy efficient, I thought, even though most of the state’s electric power is still generated by natural gas. I keep hoping for greener, cleaner solar and wind.
Hotpoint was listed as a Best Buy at about $500. Best Buy had one at $399 but wouldn’t deliver to our zip code. Same deal at no less than five other Santa Clarita discounters. No delivery, no service. No sale.
Urner’s in Bakersfield had one in stock and would deliver to our area for $45 and would take away the old stove. Would they fix it and resell it? No. But they might give it to a second-hand dealer. Now I know why there are always three-dozen stoves abandoned at the local landfill.
Urner’s delivers on Thursdays only. That gives me three days to get our electrician to put in a four-pronged, 220-volt outlet. He arrives on Wednesday and, after a survey of the electric breaker panel, says there isn’t any more room. He had used the available lines for my son-in-law’s spa. If he could combine two unused 110-volt lines and run them through new conduit under the house, it would take half a day and cost $600. Gasp!
Back to the phone. Urner’s has the gas model in stock and the price is the same. Okay.
Thursday it arrives all gleaming white and I hold my breath while they struggle to slide it in between cabinets. It fits. Whew!
The installers, however, are not qualified to refit the range with the jets for liquid gas. Mountain Propane says their tech can’t be here before Friday afternoon.
Once again, I’m waiting. New pumpkin muffin recipe in hand. Admiring the shiny new range with the good repair history. Trouble is, it’s still as cold as an Enron exec’s heart.