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In The Dishwasher Dumps – Part 6

February 28, 2011

The nice young man did indeed show up on Monday morning, correct part in hand. He also did fix the dishwasher. We were back up and running in Clean and Sanitized Land, which made me happy.

He left behind a report outlining the damage to the floor, took pictures, and set a card on my counter with an 800 number to call if I had not heard something within 24 hours.

Imagine my surprise (in fact, you could have knocked me over with a feather) when I got a call the very. next. day. I began to think that perhaps the planets would align and that this whole appliance nightmare would be just a distant memory soon.

Maybe it was even a positive thing. In reality, we were getting our kitchen floor redone, along with the floor in our nook area, and that would not have been a cheap undertaking if someone had not been working the late afternoon shift, and maybe drinking a brewski or two, right before the motor got mounted in my super-deluxe, do-everything-but-your-taxes dishwasher. Now? It would be a free undertaking, with the exception of the noise, the dust, and the rest of the fun that comes with hardwood floor repair and/or replacement.

I was just so grateful that the automation had been restored to the task of dishwashing, that I no longer had to inspect hands or do the smell test to see if someone really had washed them before putting their fingers all over something that was supposed to be clean. I no longer had to hover around and make sure our dogs, always excited to be part of the festivities, were not in someone’s arms while dishwashing was occurring or, Heaven forbid, engaged in the “pre-wash cycle”. I no longer felt like investing in the Lysol company was my only salvation.

My lovely green light was again functional, and the smell of bleach, one of my all-time favorite smells on earth, was again wafting forth with the steamy goodness from each load. All was right with the world again.

We went through the pain (and it IS painful, let me tell you) of getting enough estimates to satisfy the warranty folks, then faxed them over.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

And waited again.

I left a message.

Then another.

Then another.

My Hubby left a message.

Then another.

And another.

The green light was working, the dishes smelled heavenly, I was back in with Sanitation Sanity, but the buckling in the floor seemed to be increasing by the day, stretching its no-longer-flat, water-logged, wooden fingers up to grab us around the ankles at every opportunity.

Given our streak of bad luck lately, I wasn’t entirely sure that we should have anyone outside of family over. I could envision that buckle taking out our guests, and thought that I should probably call our insurance agent quickly so that I could verify our liability limits.

I got fed up. With the failure to respond. Again.

I called the company and got voice mail for the umpty millionth time. I pressed zero to return me to the operator and had a nice chat with her about the sheer volume of calls we had made to our claim representative. In comparison to the number of calls that had been returned (zero), it was a large number. Could she find a way to actually put me in touch with him directly? Voice to voice, rather than my voice to his voicemail? Surely there was a way to just have SOMEONE, ANYONE be on the other end.

She sounded sympathetic, and put me through to his line.

Voicemail. (I know, I expected it, too.)

I pressed zero and got her back after much waiting. Perhaps I had been unclear. I really just needed to SPEAK with someone. It could be anyone. Didn’t have to be MY particular claims rep, but it would be excellent if it were actually a person who could verify that the company had received our estimates, approved them, and knew when we might be able to have a check in hand and get repairs started.

She again seemed to be sympathetic to my plight and suggested that she would try the others on the claims team. She put me through to the first. Voicemail. And back around to the operator I went.

Second. Voicemail. Operator.

Third. Voicemail. Operator.

Fourth. Voicemail. Operator.

Fifth. Voicemail. Operator.

Now I was really irritated. I mean REALLY irritated. I had spent this large portion of my afternoon (in cubeland so I couldn’t scream or curse out loud like I wanted to, adding exponentially to my frustration) on the phone, listening to everyone on God’s green earth who had a voicemail box.


Her words got clipped. She was very sorry, nothing more she could do for me. Well… she might be able to get the supervisor on the horn. She would try.

I was absolutely S.T.U.N.N.E.D when the supervisor’s voice came on the line. Like 10 seconds later. Perhaps the look of panic on the operator’s face had convinced her that she really should deal with the nutjob that was demanding to talk to a live person. I have no idea how the conversation went, but the conversation with the supervisor was good.

She was a listener, and evidently skilled in reflection. She repeated back to me exactly what she thought I needed, clarified it once more for good measure. And told me she’d have someone get back to me as soon as possible. She thought they had the estimates, just needed to get the tech’s final statements, and they could move on. But she’d have the rep get in touch as soon as she could.

I hung up feeling much relieved. And also feeling much pressure on my bladder since I had sucked down a 44 ounce Diet Coke during the marathon, can’t-find-anyone-who-actually-answers-their-phone, voicemail tag, you’re it, call I’d just endured.

So I made a tremendous mistake. And left my desk to go to the bathroom.

8 Comments leave one →
  1. February 28, 2011 4:22 pm

    sounds like my calls to blue cross. UGH!!!!

  2. February 28, 2011 4:28 pm

    Your post made my day….absolutely! Thank you so much for sharing this moment in your life. : ) I sometimes think our grandchildren will think we are making up stories when we tell them that once upon a time there really were humans that answered phones and helped solve problems with their products!

  3. March 1, 2011 6:16 am

    No, wait…don’t stop now!!! Hanging on for the next installment…..

  4. March 1, 2011 8:37 am

    Please post the name of this company so none of us ever make the mistake of buying from them!

    This is horrible!

  5. Anonymous permalink
    March 27, 2011 10:16 am

    We woke up this morning to a broken dishwasher. It has served faithfully for 17 years (so no warranty), and I expect that there have been improvements in the technology in the past 17 years. Combined wih reading about your repair experience — even with a new machine and a warranty — I have decided to replace instead of repair. Even so, the anticpated irritation and angst of dealing with delivery and installation has raised my blood pressure. It makes me appreciate even more what you went through!

  6. April 5, 2011 11:25 am

    I absolutely cannot stand when I get voice mail over and over! We have had this struggle with Comcast about our Internet (I despise Comcast, by the way), and I always seem to end up on edge, red-faced, ready to burst when I call them and try to get anywhere. It is stunning this lack of customer service is permitted to exist with any company.

  7. cassee01 permalink
    September 27, 2011 5:54 am

    Hoping things are going well 🙂

  8. Bonnie permalink
    November 18, 2011 11:32 am

    I hope everything is going OK (and your dishwasher is working). I’m also a stopmom and have missed your blogs for the past several months. I would love a password so I could continue to read. 🙂

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