The refrigerator curse
Dean and I have said curse. Truly. Was there a refrigerator gypsy we inadvertently crossed on our wedding day? Is there a saint over appliances I can supplicate? I present for you the evidence of our curse. The following stories are not exaggerated. In fact, the sheer scope of fridge horror has been abbreviated for tedium's sake. Happy schadenfreude!
FRIDGE #!
In retrospect, it wasn't so bad - it was just one of those old ones that come with a rental where you have to defrost the freezer once a month or your ice cream builds its own igloo.
FRIDGE #2
We bought it new for our condo. Just over a year later (nullifying the warranty), it began to beep. I called the service department.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but that model doesn't beep."
"Yeah, I figured it shouldn't be beeping, but it is."
"No, that model doesn't have any mechanism to make a beep. It must be something else in your kitchen."
"I'm standing right in front of it, and it's definitely beeping."
"It's probably another appliance nearby."
"No...there's a little red light on the fridge that blinks in time with the beeping."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but that model of refrigerator doesn't beep."
The freezer died, and we had a repairman come to fix it.
"Yeah, this kind of freezer problem is common in fridges 5-10 years old. How old is this?"
"One year."
"Oh."
He could fix the freezer, but not the beep. There were times when, as I was trying to fall asleep, I fantasized about shooting the fridge with a sawed-off shotgun. That specific weapon. For the record, I never did.
FRIDGE #3
We gave away the Beeping Leviathan when we moved and bought a new fridge for our house. Just over a year later, the freezer died. Twice in the same month. We got it fixed both times, but the ice maker was a permanent casualty, a drawer broke, and we harbored ill feelings toward our fridge. We used to fantasize about buying a new one, browsing online and admiring the shiny new models, one with a bottom freezer this time, and fancy french doors! Then this past fall as an early Christmas present for Dean, I did it! I bit the bullet and spent a wad on exactly the model we wanted, and a brand that was supposed to be great: Samsung. (duh, duh, DUM!)
FRIDGE #4
The following events each occur 5-7 days apart:
1. Fridge arrives. It's dropped off on our curb. Dean is 3 hours late to work, having to remove the fridge doors to get it through our front door, haul the 300 lb. sucker inside, and set it up.
2. The fridge does not cool. I call Samsung.
"Have you filled the unit with food?"
"No...it's 80 degrees in there."
"The unit won't reach optimum internal temperature until it's filled with food."
"Um...it's 80 degrees in there."
"A technician will call you in 3-5 business days."
3. I call Samsung back. "No technician has called."
"It looks like the request was input incorrectly. I'll redo it."
4. Technician comes, inspects it, and orders parts.
5. Parts arrive. Samsung sent the wrong parts. Dean and I laugh about it. "That darn curse!" we exclaim good-humoredly.
6. New parts arrive. Samsung sent the wrong parts. Again. I explain to the nice repair guys, "It's not your fault. We have a refrigerator curse." I give them slices of homemade pie to show my astounding goodwill. (I didn't make the pie--my neighbor did, because she loved The Actor and the Housewife. It was really good pie.)
7. I call Samsung when the third round of parts never arrive. We're told parts are not available. They put in for an exchange. It'll be another 5-7 days.
I explain to the Customer Service Rep how much trouble we've already been through. "Is there anything you can do to help this happen faster?"
"There isn't an expedite button on my desk that I can just push."
8. 5-7 business days later, I call to check up on the status. New rep tells me, "I'm sorry, your exchange request was input incorrectly. I'll redo it."
I take deep, cleansing breaths. I will be okay.
9. Calling to check up on the status, yet another new rep tells me, "I'm sorry, your exchange request was input incorrectly. I'll redo it." Again.
Dean and I speak nostalgically of ice boxes.
10. Calling to check up on the status, I'm told we can't get an exchange from where we purchased it. I don't offer pie to the woman on the phone. There is no pie in me left to give. I actually break down and weep. "This is insanity! How can you run a company this way? Am I being punked? Am I trapped in Groundhog's Day?"
"I apologize if there has been any inconvenience, ma'am. I'll put in for a refund."
11. I call to check on status. Can you guess? "I'm sorry, your refund request was input incorrectly. I'll redo it."
12. Ditto.
13. Ditto. A gentle numbness sets in. The memory of pie is so distant...do I hear the angels singing me home at last?
At this point, it's been 11 weeks. We still have an 80 degree fridge in our kitchen. Alongside the bastard fridge, which is looking pretty good these days. When the refund goes through (ha!), we're asked to cut off the power cord, mail it to them, and we'll get a check. Will they come pick up the 300 lb. refrigerator? No. Can we give it over to a charity? No, they only accept working fridges that are PLUGGED IN. It will be up to us to dispose of the behemoth ourselves. How? I do not know, and so I end on a cliffhanger, leaving you to imagine what, if any, ending will claim our story.
But even now we can't help but hope. Maybe the next refrigerator will be the one! Maybe eventually we'll work through our curse and be granted a working cooling appliance. I only know one thing for certain: Lucky Fridge #5 will not be a Samsung.