Appliance Shopping Addicts Anonymous

I’m Dave B. and I’m addicted to shopping for appliances.
It all started when I had to rescue our poor washer from the brink of destruction. Initially, I tentatively removed the back panel, with the help of the customer sales rep on the phone, spotted the problem and removed it. After I finished, I cleaned up, and set the washer to a fast cycle. Then, I sat down in front of it, and watched it for the next thirty minutes to make sure that the crisis was really averted.
Over the next few years, and a move from the old house to our current one, I had to fix it several more times. Sometimes I would find that it was blocked with a new fangled washer sheet, (the kind that could ride through both washer and dryer,) sometimes it was pens, pencils or guitar picks. Always, I pulled coins from the drain mechanism, totaling $16.23 American, several English shillings, and one Canadian quarter. Each time, I repeated my first action: cleanup, set a quick cycle and observe.
But the last time, it became very obvious to me that the problem was not solved. After a daunting time finding a washer repairman, and a very long wait on the phone for an actual human sales rep, I enquired about the part I needed.
“All together with shipping, you’re looking at $250.00,” he said. “That doesn’t include the service charge of $70 just for coming out, plus an hourly rate of $50, and he may have to come back out once or twice more to continue to tune it.” Wow! What a racket!
In the meantime, we were having to use Micki’s moms machine, and with our many laundry needs, we didn’t want to keep inconveniencing her. It was obvious that we needed to shop for a new washer.
“I’ll do some research,” I said.
A week and many hours of study later, I came up with the perfect washer for our family’s needs in our price range, with fantastic warranties and on special at our local hardware superstore.
The process of weeding through the myriad products that were inappropriate, junky, too expensive or just too fancy for our humble albeit heavy-duty laundry requirements was thrilling for me. I savored each review, read online manual downloads and physically checked the floor models at the store. Finally, when I was completely satisfied that I knew the exact model for our family, I waved down a sales associate, and made the purchase.
An interminable week later, our new washer arrived, and it has served our family well.
Then the vacuum cleaner broke.
I try to get a whole house cleaning in once a week. However, our schedules don’t always provide for it, and once the weather warms and the grass starts growing it becomes necessary to focus on outdoor maintenance too. So, with a broken vacuum, and the prospect of a rapidly growing lawn, we began to borrow Micki’s moms Dyson ‘Ball’.
It’s a nice vacuum, to be sure, but the more I used it, the more I was sure, when the time came, I didn’t want one.
With the house filled with soon-to-be summering teenagers, and lots of foot traffic from our dogs, it was time to buy our own. Knowing my fondness for the process of shopping, Micki sent me to the store to pick out a new vacuum.
Our youngest joined me. It would be good for him to see the process and he has always been a great shopping assistant.
The vacuum aisle was thick with floor models. Heavy duty ‘pet home’ versions, slight and sleek ‘micro sweepers’ (these the fourteen-year-old loved,) and the Dysons.
We didn’t want to spend more than $300 for a vacuum, which left out all of the Dyson products, but as I looked at each cleaner I began to fear that there would be no choice but to give in and purchase one.
Every product was now copying certain aspects of the Dyson technology, and yet, each seemed shabby and thin. All were made of light, cheap plastic or didn’t have enough attachments, or too many.
Much later, we had gone down the entire line twice, carefully avoiding the fancy Dysons and trying to come up with something decent that would last us more than a year.
While we waited for a sales associate, I looked at the forbidden and expensive Dyson vacuums. Even these seems to be made of chintzy plastic. And, though I had racked up many hours on a borrowed one, the available models were either too big, or not big enough for our needs not to mention exorbitantly priced.
My shoulders felt tetchy and tight, as though they were ready for me to throw my arms up in frustration and surrender.
I looked toward our boy, who was clearly enjoying the super sleek ‘vacuumatic’ with laser air ionizer and built in universal tv remote, when my eye fell upon a model I had completely overlooked.
Glimmering in silver and green, the Electrolux models were expensive, certainly, but wow! The green machine was lightweight and had: agile maneuverability, an eighteen-foot extension tube ‘for those hard to reach areas,’ several very handy attachments, including a special accessory designed to remove pet hair and dander from couches and chairs and it was in stock!
I was sold. It was right at the limit of our price range, but there was nothing for it. My rationality was simple: we could buy the cheap-o-matic with pet odor controlling tube suctioning device and use it happily for six to eight months before it broke or burned out or we could spend a bit more on a heavy-duty model, and with some forethought and care, have it around for the next ten years.
When the disheveled sales associate finally managed to break away from the other customers to check on us, I pointed at the model I wanted, and he brought it down for me.
All told, we spent nearly an hour shopping for a vacuum, but it works beautifully and will be helping clean the house for the next decade or longer.
In the meantime, I can’t help wondering when the dryer will break.