You all remember our spiffy new laundry room?
Well. A few short weeks after the appliances were delivered I noticed it taking longer and longer for a load of clothes to dry.
I mean up to 2.5 hours long.
Me no likey. Especially considering that one of the reasons for the humungo purchase was to start saving some bank on our energy bills.
So I called and requested repair. It was a serious hassle trying to get someone out here (in spite of the extended warranty we paid for, ahem). To make a long story short, we ended up having a new dryer delivered rather than have the dryer repaired.
Take two.
Same thing happens. A few weeks in the dryer is suddenly suspiciously lacking heat. It was like our clothes had won an island vacation and they were left to tumble with cool tropical breezes.
So this time I called Samsung instead of Sears. Samsung set up an appointment to have someone take a look. But I, being the proactive genius I am, googled my issue. I found that the culprit could be as simple as our vent being clogged with lint and asked Jeff to climb up on the ol’ rooftop and have a look.
He did. And he came down reporting that the pipe was clear as a bell.
Good. So then at least we know that’s not the problem.
Fast forward to the day of the repairman’s visit. He’s a total jerk btw. He calls first thing that morning to set up a time, just like the receptionist who had scheduled the day of the visit told me he would. He goes over my complaints with me. He asks if anyone has thought to have me check the venting for clog. Check. He then proceeds to ask if he can come on Friday instead. His receptionist had already called and asked to change the appointment. I politely declined because, you know, six days without a dryer (especially when I just spent a boatload on aforementioned dryer) is no piece of cake. So when the actual repairman asked I again politely declined, and began to explain my position. He very rudely cut me off though and said, “did I say I wasn’t coming?”
Um. Excuse me. I don’t even let my teenage daughter talk to me like that. You can bet your sweet patottie I wasn’t having it from him. The remainder of our conversation was curt and to the point but he promised to come out later that day. Fine.
He did. And boy was he just a ray of sunshine letmetellyou.
First of all, I taped a “please knock, baby sleeping” sign to the door. He knocked alright. Loud enough to make me jump ten feet into the air. AND to wake up Jayce btw. Great.
I show him to the garage where he asks to use the ladder and inspect the venting. No problem. Next thing I know his partner calls me to the base of the ladder and asks me to come look at something.
The jerk is standing there on the roof and says to me, “I thought you told me your husband checked the vents.”
Me: He did.
Jerk: No he didn’t.
Me: Hmmm. It must have been his twin brother then, that I held this very ladder for and watched him climb up.
Jerk: Well these vents are clogged.
You know what he did next? I kid you not. He threw, (YES THREW!) a ball of lint and a pair of pliers from the roof and it landed not three feet from where I stood. No joke.
Me: Yeah, um okay. That’s it. I’ve really had it with you being rude to me. It started on the phone. And now you’re standing here calling me a liar. Not to mention the…
And so it began.
It ended with me insisting that the man and his partner (who turned out to be his son btw) “get out of my house right now!”
Not. Pretty.
When Jeff got home from work I asked him to double check that the pipe was “clear as a bell.” He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of getting on the ladder again (he has a thing with heights) but he did so anyway. The fact that I threatened to go up and find what he obviously overlooked might have helped to convince him. Once up on the roof he asked that I “go to the dryer vent and see if you can hear me.”
I did as he asked. But not before maybe an eyebrow or two raised in disbelief.
Once I put my ear to the dryer vent I heard him alright. But not via the dryer vent. He was coming through loud and clear. Via the water heater vent.
It, apparently, was clear as a bell.
The dryer vent? Not so much.
Dadadadum. And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes another episode of the MBS Files. Tune in next week for another jaw-dropping, no-he-didn’t example of masculinity at its finest.
