Yesterday morning I stayed home. I had packed up books and files and my laptop, and I was set to work from home as long as I had to. However, I was still grumbling that I had to. Granted it would have happened sooner or later, but after months of hassling Maytag's customer service staff, I wasn't about to pass up on a service visit.
Our dishwasher was recalled. Over six months ago. The information had been forwarded to the previous owners who registered the appliance, so by the time we found out about it, we were getting ready to leave for Portland at Christmas time. It waited until we got back to Miami, and then the phone calls began. Customer service keeps East Coast time, so there were a few dead end calls through the automated service menu just to confirm that in fact we were owners of a recalled dishwasher.
My favorite part was when they told you the name they had on file and asked you to correct it by saying and spelling your name back. Then a robotic voice would try to repeat your name back to you. What a surprise that "VIGIL" never came back sounding like anything. I could tell it they didn't have it right yet and do the process over again, but really, what would be the point?
Our options were to 1) replace the dishwasher with a new stainless steel model, but the rebate wouldn't cover the cost of the new dishwasher or 2) have it repaired. But we were advised to stop using it until we had moved forward with one of these options as it could pose a serious fire threat. Not looking to be out anymore money, Thomas called during a morning he was home in January to schedule a repair. Maytag was not prepared for this response and would have to call us back when they found someone who could service a dishwasher in the middle of nowhere. They didn't call back. So I started harassing them. They found someone in Las Vegas, NM who would give us a call. No call came, so I called Maytag, and they would follow up. A couple weeks later, no call. And so on. The snow storms of the winter were keeping Marco busy or away from the shop, but soon we were forgotten again until just before the next storm. Lather, rinse, repeat!
When the call finally came a couple of weeks ago, I thought the lady on the message was calling me from some church supply company, but we figured that out quickly. With her heavy accent or my lack of a Hispanic accent, she had no idea who I was and why I was calling because "we didn't call you". Once that was sorted out, she still didn't know what was needed and would have to call me back. And so it went until her phone call this past Monday morning that I received when I got home from work - "The boss will be there Wednesday morning." Unfortunately, my boss wasn't in on Tuesday, but I figured I better keep this appointment or never get another one.
By 9:30 am yesterday, I still hadn't gotten a call telling me that Marco was in Wagon Mound (half-way). I dialed the number calmly and gave the woman who answered my identity. "MRS VIGIL from MIAMI!" she shouted rather loudly, clearly catching the attention of her boss (now I wonder if it isn't her son) who was clearly not on his way to Miami yet. He was soon out the door and at mine an hour and a half later. He had a little boy with him, who looked like he was school age, and I wondered if little Gabriel was insurance that I hadn't lured Marco out into the middle of nowhere to take out my wrath about the whole ordeal. The way the woman in the office spoke my name....I wouldn't have been surprised.
The repair took less just under an hour, and now, our dishwasher doesn't pose a fire danger. What an ordeal! I continued to work from home, as it seemed like such a waste of gas and time to drive back and forth for what little was left of the day. But now I am back, and the papers have piled up even higher....
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