This time I'm not going to write about writing! Today's post is about frustration--frustration with lack of quality control, knowledgable service people and heat. Heat was my trigger, I guess. The upstairs air conditioning has been out of order for days now. Every time the serviceman comes, he says, "Okay. It's fixed." Then five minutes later, the beast quits working again.
In some places it might be tolerable, but not when the temperature outside is hitting 105 and higher, and it's 85 upstairs where my office is located. That tends to make my temper flare. So, today's mechanical meltdown was the last straw and I hit the wall.
This was call number three, because calls one and two...well, I guess the fact that number three was necessary sort of explains it. Anyway, this time I told him I thought it might be the thermostat, because although it's set at seventy-six, nothing happens. Nothing but watching the temperature climb, and climb and finally hit the mid-eighties, while I slowly degenerate into a limp puddle.
He went into a long explanation of the fact that this thermostat model is programmable and it shows a program, which he was sure was the problem. Even though I told him I tried to reprogram it and it wouldn't take, then changed the batteries twice and hadn't had this problem in the seven years I've been in this house, he insisted it was the program and was ready to leave.
That's when I got mad. I told him to try to reprogram it. No--he couldn't do that, because his company didn't want people getting mad at him if the programming was wrong. We went around and around, with me trying to point out that even if the elusive cause of the problem was this program that suddenly popped up...one that hadn't been there before...it had to be something else. I insisted that if he would only look at it he could see that every period showed that it was programmed in the seventies, but the unit wouldn't come on. He started to leave.
That's when I lost it and demanded that he wipe out whatever was programmed. I must have appeared manic, because he consented to try, and guess what? When he tried to reprogram it, he couldn't. He said what I'd been trying to tell him during the entire service call: there must be something wrong with the thermostat. He grudgingly installed a new one, insisting that should take care of it. And, it did. For all of five minutes after he left. Then the fan stopped again. Sorry...did I mention that his first two service calls involved the fan?
Okay, I flipped the breaker and the fan came on again. For another five minutes or so. Then it went off. About half an hour later it came on again just as I was on the phone with the contractor, about to raise hell. Instead, I told them I would watch it. And I did...for another five minutes, when it went off again, right after I hung up on them.
Have you ever wanted to just scream to get rid of the mounting frustration? When I called back, I insisted that they send someone else. I was told that the problem was, the senior tech was very busy. I wasn't surprised. He must be straightening out everything the other guy did. The operator suggested that if I was in a hurry, they would send the same man tomorrow. I flatly refused and was able to get an appointment two days from now.
Here's my question. What ever happened to sending someone who knew enough about air conditioning to properly check to make sure things are working? Where is that guy who knows how to find out what the problem is? I see more and more of this in so many service fields, and I'm beginning to feel that the old tradesman who knew what he was doing may be moving toward extinction.
But maybe I'll feel better when the temp is back down to a liveable level. Do you suppose they might actually send a repairman who has a clue about how to keep the air conditioning running for more than five minutes? If so, I need for him to perform his magic.
Until then, I think I'll go sit on a cake of ice.
--Arliss Adams
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