My new washing machine has the latest high-tech electronics, automatic sensors and energy-saving capabilities. Right now I'd trade it for something that washes clothes.
When I bought my new washer at Sears, I was in awe of its flashing lights, sensors, signals and beeps. The problem is, every feature represents something that can (and will) go wrong. The washer stopped working after we'd had it about a year, which worried me, because it had a one-year warranty.
"The timing is perfect!" the person from Sears said when I called.
"Oh great, the warranty is still good," I answered, relieved.
"Actually," it just expired."
Oh.
"When can someone come out to fix it?" I asked.
Unlike the lonely Maytag man of days gone by, the Sears man is apparently the life of the party; it would be 10 days until the first available appointment. My family and I waited, and avoided activities that would make our clothes dirty - like eating. By day 6 we started to smell something, which turned out to be each other.
The repairman finally showed up, and tinkered in the laundry room for a few minutes. "Your control panel is toast," he said.
"Toast?"
"Yeah, it's completely worn out."
How could that be? We've only had the washer for a year! And the control panel is worn out? I've had control panels that lasted longer in pantyhose!
"'l'll have to order a new one - it'll be here Thursday" he said, handing me the bill.
The thought of a few more days of dirty clothes made me long for the old washer I grew up with. Nothing fancy, it was an old workhorse with two dials: "Hot/Warm/Cold" and "Regular/Gentle/Permanent Press." It washed clothes through my entire childhood. It's still washing clothes today.
"They don't make things like they used to," old people like to say.
And we're right.
