Microwaveupdate
Because you’ve been dying to know, I have an update to our microwave adventures. The hitchhiker transporting our microwave to the service center in Minneapolis found rides quickly because they called me two days ago to ask for more information about the problem. Adhering to the laws of broken machines, the microwave display started working properly once it arrived at the service center. I explained to the technician that the display was just really dark, otherwise it was fine, except for the smell. He thought maybe it just had a loose wire and promised to take a closer look. Yesterday someone called to confirm, yep, the display is broken, and the cost of repairs exceeds the cost of a new microwave so come on down and pick up my brand new microwave. That’s exactly what we thought would happen, and if they would have said that in the first place I could have saved myself some frustration, not to mention the $30 for a limper microwave.
Abbie and I ventured to the store that night since I was already sick of the limper microwave, even though I had only an hour before the start of her bedtime routine, and hell hath no fury like a child being put to bed still wide awake because she didn’t get her full bedtime routine. First we waited at the service counter before a clerk told us to go to appliances and someone would set us up over there. I had visions of a highly trained sales associate checking a computer to find my information and swapping microwaves right there, so I waited a few minutes for the only guy on duty to finish with other people before helping us. I passed the time by checking the microwaves to find the closest match to our old one, a task Abbie made extra difficult by trying to run far away from appliances every time I set her down. When the only guy on duty finally helped us he looked at the receipt, looked at the microwaves, and pointed to the same one I picked out saying “that’s the one you want, same brand, same wattage.” My visions dashed, I replied, “so I just take it up front then?” He affirmed and I bemoaned the minutes I wasted chasing her around the store.
I pushed the microwave in the cart to the registers; no easy feat since it was too big to fit in the cart so I had to push it with one hand while keeping the other hand on the box and hoping Abbie didn’t do anything from her strapped in child seat that warranted the use of my hands. After waiting in line at the register, the cashier informed me, with all the customer service I’ve come to expect from big-box stores, that I’d have to take it up to the service counter. While waiting in line there, a presumed-mother ahead of me in line had a girl of about 2-years standing in the cart basket. According to the crude carvings in the cart, this is a big no-no because any sudden cart movements could send the child flying onto the floor, causing an injury so horrific that the store will deny any liability.
“See,” the mother said to the girl, “that girl is being good and is strapped into the cart.” I imagine this was the mother’s subtle way of telling her girl to be good and sit down, but the message went right over her head, which isn’t surprising considering since the mother missed my subtle message that she’s your daughter, and she’s only 2! She has to listen to you! If you don’t want her to do something so dangerous, don’t let her! Ahem.
Once I arrived at an associate who could actually helped me, things moved pretty quickly. Thanks to the magic of declining technology prices, our new microwave is .4 cubic feet bigger than our 2-year-old former microwave, and it cost $15 less. It even comes with some features our old microwave didn’t have like a working display and a baked potato button just in case you want to make a baked potato in the microwave.* I promptly applied my $15 refund toward the purchase of a new extended warranty because apparently today’s microwaves have about a 2-year life span.
Finally with one hand on the handlebars and the other hand on the microwave, I turned the cart to leave. Unfortunately, I should have reserved one hand to check Abbie because she had one hand dangling outside the cart, which I obliviously crunched between the cart and the counter. I realized my mistake as soon as she started screaming, and dropped everything to pick her up and comfort her lest someone think I’m some negligent parent who would let his daughter do something dangerous like stand up in a moving cart. Dropping everything sadly included my receipt that I will need when my new microwave breaks in 2008. I left that receipt in the store as I left,** this time with one hand holding Abbie and the other hand pushing the cart by holding the microwave. (What do I care if the cart gets away from me and I drop the microwave? I bought the extended warranty.) With much grunting, we made it outside with just enough time to stop for frozen custard before bedtime because, you know, they’re on the way home.
* You don’t.
** Update: I called the store that night and they said they had my receipt, and would save it for me to pick up. I went back the next day to retrieve it before they lost it, and they had already lost it. Fortunately they could print a new receipt for me using only my telephone number. Now about those privacy concerns…
Abbie and I ventured to the store that night since I was already sick of the limper microwave, even though I had only an hour before the start of her bedtime routine, and hell hath no fury like a child being put to bed still wide awake because she didn’t get her full bedtime routine. First we waited at the service counter before a clerk told us to go to appliances and someone would set us up over there. I had visions of a highly trained sales associate checking a computer to find my information and swapping microwaves right there, so I waited a few minutes for the only guy on duty to finish with other people before helping us. I passed the time by checking the microwaves to find the closest match to our old one, a task Abbie made extra difficult by trying to run far away from appliances every time I set her down. When the only guy on duty finally helped us he looked at the receipt, looked at the microwaves, and pointed to the same one I picked out saying “that’s the one you want, same brand, same wattage.” My visions dashed, I replied, “so I just take it up front then?” He affirmed and I bemoaned the minutes I wasted chasing her around the store.
I pushed the microwave in the cart to the registers; no easy feat since it was too big to fit in the cart so I had to push it with one hand while keeping the other hand on the box and hoping Abbie didn’t do anything from her strapped in child seat that warranted the use of my hands. After waiting in line at the register, the cashier informed me, with all the customer service I’ve come to expect from big-box stores, that I’d have to take it up to the service counter. While waiting in line there, a presumed-mother ahead of me in line had a girl of about 2-years standing in the cart basket. According to the crude carvings in the cart, this is a big no-no because any sudden cart movements could send the child flying onto the floor, causing an injury so horrific that the store will deny any liability.
“See,” the mother said to the girl, “that girl is being good and is strapped into the cart.” I imagine this was the mother’s subtle way of telling her girl to be good and sit down, but the message went right over her head, which isn’t surprising considering since the mother missed my subtle message that she’s your daughter, and she’s only 2! She has to listen to you! If you don’t want her to do something so dangerous, don’t let her! Ahem.
Once I arrived at an associate who could actually helped me, things moved pretty quickly. Thanks to the magic of declining technology prices, our new microwave is .4 cubic feet bigger than our 2-year-old former microwave, and it cost $15 less. It even comes with some features our old microwave didn’t have like a working display and a baked potato button just in case you want to make a baked potato in the microwave.* I promptly applied my $15 refund toward the purchase of a new extended warranty because apparently today’s microwaves have about a 2-year life span.
Finally with one hand on the handlebars and the other hand on the microwave, I turned the cart to leave. Unfortunately, I should have reserved one hand to check Abbie because she had one hand dangling outside the cart, which I obliviously crunched between the cart and the counter. I realized my mistake as soon as she started screaming, and dropped everything to pick her up and comfort her lest someone think I’m some negligent parent who would let his daughter do something dangerous like stand up in a moving cart. Dropping everything sadly included my receipt that I will need when my new microwave breaks in 2008. I left that receipt in the store as I left,** this time with one hand holding Abbie and the other hand pushing the cart by holding the microwave. (What do I care if the cart gets away from me and I drop the microwave? I bought the extended warranty.) With much grunting, we made it outside with just enough time to stop for frozen custard before bedtime because, you know, they’re on the way home.
* You don’t.
** Update: I called the store that night and they said they had my receipt, and would save it for me to pick up. I went back the next day to retrieve it before they lost it, and they had already lost it. Fortunately they could print a new receipt for me using only my telephone number. Now about those privacy concerns…
posted by Matt at
9:48 PM
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