The automatic gas lighting ‘thing’ on our Viking stove failed over the Holidays and a repairman came, this week, to fix it.
Repairmen, in general, make me nervous. I don’t like them touching and fichering with my stuff. I dread that they’ll take something apart, realise they need a special part and leave the thing in bits forever.
Generally, when they arrive at the door, I turn into Hyacinth Bucket of Keeping Up Appearances. I keep a wee chair in the lobby so they can sit and remove their shoes. I want to remind them, “DON’T BRUSH UP AGAINST MY WALLS! ARE YOUR HANDS CLEAN?”
Most repairmen are professional, efficient and are familiar with the equipment they have come to repair. But a few have claimed they have never worked on that particular appliance in their WHOLE LIVES!
Five technicians came to repair our brand new fridge last year before we eventually got a replacement fridge.
One of the technicians came several times, but after the first visit, we refused to let him in!
He thought I was the maid – yes I do wear an apron when I’m cooking.
But when he saw Richard, he shouted that he was in the wrong house, because we weren’t Chinese!
Those who know our surname will understand.
All this for extended warranty.
