Last fall, I had the loveliest new dishwasher in the world. It was this silent little thing that pretty much cleared the table, loaded itself, and sent the kids to brush their teeth after dinner. It did this for 3 months before all manner of things went wrong. You see, apparently it doesn't matter how nice a dishwasher it is; they're all now made with the same cheap, crappy parts with an average life expectancy of 8 years! Mine didn't make it to 8 years and after flooding my kitchen, the pump breaking and now the electronics not working, I decided to get my beeotch on and go to the "nice local business" and get up in someone's grill. So much for going local, paying more but getting excellent customer service...Wickford Appliance - epic fail.
Funny, no matter how many emails or phone calls they can ignore, they can't ignore a pissed off woman who has had a broken dishwasher through every snowstorm this winter, and is going to tell them all about it in person. How she put it on last thing at night and it dumped the entire cycle of water onto the kitchen floor, leaking through into the basement, causing litter boxes to turn into Suncats and dripping into Christmas decorations. I figured if I bored their ears off with long stories with a hint of vitriol they'd eventually do anything to get rid of me. Bingo - Brand new dishwasher arriving today. Unfortunately, it will be stainless steel, something that always reminds me of morgues and anatomy labs. Husband, however, says that it reminds him of the OR, his happy place. (Weirdo!) I guess I should turn my focus to those ugly chair covers and try to get them ripped out and replaced, along with some proper curtains that don't showcase the naked eighties swinger parties we host every weekend.