Adaptability is the Key to Happiness

The noise was driving me crazy

Photo of injured refrigerator

Suzie met Gerry and I at the airport at the designated time.

We were returning from a short vacation in Florida. Suzie is the wonderful woman who doubles plus one as: a house sitter, cat companion, driver to and from the airport.

“Brian, you better check your refrigerator, it’s making a god-awful noise. I think it’s on its last legs,” she reported after the compulsory how was your vacation formalities.

Damn, one more thing to worry about.

The noise

Suzie was right, as soon as I opened the condo door I heard it loud and clear. In going through its cycles, whenever the circulating fan came on, the racket was very noticeable. A step higher than annoying.

Possibly, maddening!

It was too late to get a service appointment and the next day was Sunday.

I relegated myself to the fact that I may have to put up with the rattling until Monday.

That first night was the worst. Although I was exhausted from the travel, I didn’t sleep a wink.

The tech

Early Sunday morning I got right to it. I dialed what I thought was an appliance company with whom I dealt when I was in the real estate business. They were knowledgeable and reliable. I must have dialed the wrong number under appliance repair.

“Right church wrong pew” as they say.

A man answered. Early Sunday morning, how about that?

I couldn’t understand him very well. His accent was hard to place but he understood me well enough to get my address and to assure me in pidgin English he’d be over shortly.

The repair man called me a couple of more times, lost when searching for my place. He then called from the condo parking lot to be let in the front door.

I scurried down to let him into the building’s lobby. Any type of accommodation for someone who could end that damn refrigerator noise.

I became suspicious when I saw he wasn’t driving a truck but a car. There was no name of the company with which I was familiar. He seemed to be a lone wolf appliance repair man.

“Where ya from?” I greeted him cheerily.

“Nigeria,” he answered.

“I mean what company do you represent?” hopefully clarifying the question.

“The company you called,” I was able to decipher.

Not particularly the answer I wanted to hear.

As soon as he set foot in the condo he heard the refrigerator rattling.

Within 10 seconds, he had a diagnosis.

He quoted a price of $685 if I paid by check, $450 if I paid cash.

“Sir,” I said, “I could damn near get a new refrigerator for that price.”

“I don’t carry that much cash here in my place!” concerned for Gerry and my safety.

She was holed up in the bedroom simply wanting the noise to stop, leaving the actual stopping to my devices.

We settled on a price of $251. It was all the cash I had I told him.

He went out to his car to get a hair dryer to melt the ice from impeding the defroster, a source for the noise he claimed. The serviceman also brought back a little item he called a thermostat.

Who am I to argue?

He then set out to work. The Nigerian man labored diligently for about an hour and it seemed he lessened the noise but the fridge was still talking to me in ways it shouldn’t.

“That’s the best I can do for now,” was his disappointing prognosis.

“On Monday I have to get a part for the fan. It’ll only be the cost of a second visit and the price of the part.” was his unwelcome estimate.

I’ll call you if I need further repair,” bidding him farewell. No need to dwell on how he failed me by his incomplete costly work. I locked the condo door as he ambled down the hall putting my wad of $251 in his back pocket.

I rousted Gerry from her secure place in the bedroom and asked her if she thought the noise was a little better.

She said she did.

I made the decision to not call the tech who’d just been there. I’d wait until Monday to call a legitimate appliance repair firm, one familiar from business before I retired.

Epilogue

Gerry left for her home in New Jersey shortly after the serviceman departed.

I went back into my noisy abode.

Lying on my couch shutting my eyes, I was surprised that I was able to fall asleep.

When I awakened the noise had reached the level it had been before the tech had worked on it that morning.

At least I knew the refrigerator was pumping away to keep my food cold and fresh.

And it only made the noise when the cooling cycle kicked in.

You know what? I was beginning to like the sound it made.

A bit of background noise is relaxing.

Shit, I had tinnitus anyway.

It’s now late Monday afternoon and I still haven’t called anyone to repair the fridge.

I’ve grown to like the sound.

And the refrigerator still works.

And it should, being only 10 years old.

It’ll last for another five years — minimum!

Fuck a costly fix, I can live with it!