Broken Dishwasher, Plumbers, And Martinis

Some years ago my automatic dishwasher up and died. Naturally, I ran out to Sears and bought a new one to replace it. I was so happy when the guy came to install the new washer. But then there was a glitch. According to the installer something was wrong with my plumbing and I would have to call my plumber before he could finish installing my new dishwasher.

The plumber came and did something with those pipes and hoses and said all would be well. Back came the installer. After working around for a bit, he said I needed to call the plumber back because it still didn’t work.

Here comes the plumber again, another $80 for the house call paid. He toyed with the pipes again and said all should be well.

Here comes the installer who said he still couldn’t get the dishwasher running and to call the plumber once more.

Another plumber came this time and while he checked out the plumbing to the dishwasher, my niece, Betsy, and I made some watermelon martinis. They were delicious by the way. So, we shared a martini or two with the plumber. After the plumber finish inspecting the pipes and hoses to the dishwasher, he said there was absolutely nothing wrong with the plumbing. It seems the dishwasher was defective.

Back comes the installer who then admitted it was the dishwasher that was not working and offered me a deal—he would write up a work order for someone from Sears to come fix the brand new washer for a discount on the dishwasher. Now that it had already cost me over $200 in plumbers who apparently hadn’t done anything until the last one who had a couple martinis, I was pretty irate at being lied to by him and two of the plumbers so I told him to take his broken dishwasher back to Sears.

I bought another dishwasher at Home Depot, the worker installed it, and it worked like a dream for years until last week. The dishwasher did finally croak and I’m thinking I might need to make some watermelon martinis for the next installer since that seems to bring out the truth in people. And so ends my tale of broken down dishwashers and martinis.