I finally fixed my own damn dishwasher! You know the problem I mean, Maytag Man. . . ? The plate divider rack that kept collapsing every time I tried to load dirty plates? The plate divider which holds only six plates, thus rendering that bottom third shelf that I thought was so snazzy completely useless because it has to hold the other two plates? That one.
You’ve looked at it several times, like the service call when you checked out my “dishes aren’t getting clean” complaint. Your advice was that I needed to let the hot water tap run before I started the dishwasher. Oh, so it was MY bad! Somewhere in that two-hour wash cycle for “normal cleaning” I figured there would be enough hot water to do the trick. It’s not like I was trying to clean baked-on red clay. My spaghetti sauce may stick to the ribs, even the hips, but there is nothing in the recipe that should make it fuse it to my plates.
Having to run hot water first nixes my intent to use that DELAY option I thought was so nifty. I went from thinking I was going to shrink my carbon footprint to adding bunions and corns to it. That means we have to run our poorly-named “Quiet Series” model before we go to bed.
Dearly Beloved, turn up the tv so I can hear The Daily Show, will ya? I gotta turn on the dishwasher.
Daughter Boo has a Euopean dishwasher so quiet that I screwed up the settings once because I kept pressing buttons, not realizing it WAS on. Those European appliances in high end kitchens probably aren’t there just for snob appeal.
The diagnosis for the impotent dish rack, incidentally, delivered by the repairman with a sorrowful shake of the head? “Plastic. They make all the parts out of plastic these days.” Behind that stainless-steel facade (which cost extra, mind you) are inner-workings of plastic.
Remember in The Graduate when Mr. Robinson, Elaine’s father, wanted “. . . to say one word to you, Benjamin. Are you listening, Benjamin? Plastics.” Benjamin, of course, eschewed plastics and went on to other things–namely MRS. Robinson. American appliance manufacturers went with plastics.
I’ve had that dishwasher for a few years now and every time I’ve used it I’ve frowned. At my age, that’s serious. I look in the mirror and figure that about a third of those wrinkles are plastic-generated. I heard a professional advice giver say–can’t remember if it was mental health or beauty since I take all the advice I can get from both–that if you have something that causes you displeasure every time you use it, get rid of it. I remember being so inspired that I immediately kicked my electric can opener to the curb.
Since I am not in a position to toss the dishwasher, since the Maytag man didn’t help, and since it’s not a good idea to let DB near an appliance, I finally decided to fix it myself. I know duct tape is supposed to fix the world but I went with twisty ties like the ones which come on a loaf of bread. Two twisty ties, one for each of the impotent racks. Sonofagun, it worked! I tied them up several weeks ago and haven’t even had to replace the ties. My racks remain erect. (Women in business are supposed to use sports metaphors to equal the playing field. I figure housewives should go with sex.) . .
Maytag isn’t alone in substituting plastic for parts formerly made of metal. When the Kitchen-Aid repairman came out to fix our ice maker two months after we bought the big, honkin’ stainless-steel refrigerator, I promise you he shook his head and said morosely, “Plastic.”
If plastic is made from crude oil and the steel industry is mothballing their plants, shouldn’t we be working out a deal here? Substituting plastic parts for what should be a more heavy duty assemblage seems. . . I don’t know. . . plastic. What about customers? Shouldn’t we get satisfaction?
As Benjamin responded, “Just how do you mean that, sir?”