Seems like “letting Dan down” is a prevalent theme as of late. First and famously it was Time Warner, then it was my fantasy football team, who played more like my fantasy gay team this week, and then it culminated with my refrigerator. I’m half expecting my mom to call me up and let me know I’m not really her son, so I should bring a bottle of wine when I come to visit from now on.
Now, not unsurprisingly, I’ve been quite harshly let down by Major Appliance Service Co., who missed my appointment to have the refrigerator fixed. I say unsurprisingly because when I called at yesterday morning to confirm what time they would be coming, they told me, “Some time before .” And when I suggested that perhaps we could narrow it down to “between 12:00 and 1:00” so I could go to work in the morning, rush home on a long lunch break, move a heavy refrigerator instead of actually eating lunch and then rush back to the office, they responded, “Yeah, OK.”
Lo and behold, as I rush from the subway to my apartment at , I pull out my cell phone and there is a message from Major Appliance (great name, by the way) saying, “It’s , you had an appointment. Please call to reschedule.” Visions of Time Warner flash before my eyes like George Costanza getting a wedgie in the high school locker room. I fumble through my bag looking for a Xanax, only to realize that I don’t actually take Xanax – probably the most convincing evidence that I should be taking Xanax.
However, lest I write them off too quickly as just another heartless appliance repair service with a clever name, Major Appliance really came through in the clutch. After a few phone calls the technician agreed to come back around at the tail end of the deadline. Now that’s dedication. Beaming with pride that I had chosen the best appliance repair center, I checked my wallet to see what I could offer the technician for his courtesy. Unfortunately (for him) after my friend John and I bought sandwiches and a magnum of wine to celebrate the season premier of “Lost” the night before, I had two dollars left. But you know what they say: Kindness is a one way street. And I’m confident he has enough for both of us.
Turns out my refrigerator frosted up in some hidden compartment due to a malfunctioning part whose name I don’t really remember because I was too busy staring at the technician’s incorrectly buttoned shirt instead of listening to him talk. I tuned in just in time for him to tell me that the new part should be available in one to two weeks. In the meantime, I have to defrost my allegedly frost-free refrigerator and throw away everything that has survived up until this point; which, for me, is no different than burning money. I buy loaves of bread when they are on sale and freeze them instead of buying regular priced loaves of bread when I actually need bread. Even emptying out the ice trays into the sink was oddly painful, and they’re free.
But it’s nice to know that, despite all the hurt refrigerator has caused me over the past couple of weeks, he’s not an asshole through and through. He didn’t quit on me, he just broke down a little. And, after the refrigerator equivalent of a kidney transfer, he will be up and running again in no time, which will put the pressure squarely on trash bin as being the lowest performer in The First Annual Appliance Rating . . . and firmly establish that perhaps I need a lot more than just Xanax.