Microwave Servicing

Posted on April 8, 2004 in Liberty Possessions

I think the most unforgiving customer service I ever heard of was in Slovenia back in 1992. It took six months to get a phone connection. When they got to you, you had to be there or else you had to reschedule. Which meant going back to the end of the queue….

Here, in southern California, repair outlets give you a four hour block of time in which to expect them. Because of my location in the foothills, I often get placed last on the list. Which means that about fifteen minutes before the end of the four hours I get The Phone Call: “Hello. I’m running a little bit late. I’ve been very busy today.”

The repairman arrived eleven minutes after The Call. He was a stout Russian. Red Walrus Moustache. A head as hairless as Half Dome. He looked at our 600 watt Whirlpool Microwave and gasped “I haven’t seen one of these in years!”

The problem proved to be a capacitator which popped its belly as Lynn tried to heat up some Alfredo sauce on Sunday. Boadicea and Fiona thought him the most fascinating visitor and watched his every move from the entrance to the kitchen and the living room floor. Virginia Mew hid, as usual, and still has not emerged as I write this.

When he finished fixing our food-irradiator, we talked a bit about where he’d come from and what he thought of the United States. Americans, he felt, let their freedoms blind them to what was most important. We were a crazy people who let our fear of losing our guns and our princely lifestyle blind us to our enslavement. He had a few things to say about journalists: “They only want freedom of speech so they can have job. When they have the job, they write as if there no freedom of speech.”

I couldn’t agree more.

When I mentioned what my Slovenian friend Blaz said about the American media when he visited two years ago, the gentleman raised a finger to the ceiling. “There is difference,” he said. “In Soviet Union, media run by government. Protect government. Here, media run by business. Protect business.”

He waggled his eyebrows and bid me a good afternoon.

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Speaking of bad tech support, you might enjoy this classic which I wrote in 1999. Damn! That’s sounding nearly as ancient as our microwave!