GE: such astoundingly inept service I just had to write

There are many bad customer service stories. 

But this one has to be one of the worst I've ever experienced.

I'll try and make it brief.

On January 6, I am making a single piece of bacon in my microwave. I've done this before with no problem. 

But this time, I hear a very loud pop and discover my glass microwave plate split down the middle.

I call GE Appliances (now owned by Haier). 

COVID or no COVID, it should not take over two hours for someone to pick up.

Finally I reach Jonathan. He tells me that the next step requires a technician to come to my house to assess the situation. Why? We are talking a broken plate. I tell him I don't need a technician. He tells me I have to have one. He assures me there will be no charge. I have no choice.

The next day someone does come. He asks me for a bowl. He fills the bowl with water. Puts it in the microwave for two minutes. The bowl doesn't explode. He concludes my microwave itself is working fine. He really had to visit my home for this?  

My microwave (and plate) are out of warranty. Nothing is covered anyway, making it all the more puzzling why Jonathan told me a technician visit was required.

I call back to a different number. Sales this time. They of course answer quickly. The only solution I'm offered is that I can buy a replacement plate for $120, and GE will, as a courtesy, reduce it by 25% to $90 (plus tax). 

I don't want to deal with this anymore. I need the plate. I give them my credit card info and hang up.

A week later I get an email from Jonathan telling me the plate I want is out of stock and he doesn't know when it will be back in stock.  So instead, as a solution, he offers me a discount on a new microwave.

It then takes until January 27, three weeks from when this all started, for Jonathan to reach me. He offers to sell me a new microwave for $160 plus tax. 

Why can't someone just take the friggin glass plate out of a new microwave and sell me that instead?

I decline Jonathan's offer.

But really. 

The plate breaks, which it should not have.

It takes two hours to reach someone.

The replacement plate costs $120.

Then it turns out to be unavailable.

And GE's solution is for me to buy a new microwave for one that isn't broken.

Ridiculous!

I go on Amazon.

Find a compatible replacement.

Pay $42.

And have it the next day. 

End of story. 

Well, it should be.

But...

Addendum:

Today (January 29) I get my mail and see something from GE. It looks like it could be a check. I'm thinking, they're reimbursing me for all the trouble they've caused me. 

 I open the envelope and see this:

OMG! A bill for $140.01 for the service call I didn't need and didn't ask for.

There is no one to write to. 

I have no choice but to call and wait. It takes an agonizing 94 minutes.

But I am rewarded for my patience. I get Ann in South Dakota. If only I had started with Ann. 

She is knowledgeable, empathetic, and quickly solves my problem.  She emails GE's Accounting Department to reverse the charge.

Ann is great.

She should be training everyone at GE.

Now my fear is that Accounting will ignore Ann's request. I guess I'll know in a month.

In the meantime, my new $42 plate from Amazon is working just fine.

a new obsession

I'm a game player. As in, I literally like to play games.

I used to love Backgammon, and played for hours and hours in college with my good friend Jean. We were taught by our Turkish friend Toni.

I've always liked gin, but have transferred my card allegiance to Canasta.

Mahjong never interested me much.

Growing up, my sister Valerie and I used to play marathon Monopoly games lasting days.

I still play Words with Friends and still really like it. In fact, I've become very close friends with someone I barely knew before we started playing.

I do the Times crossword puzzle daily, but use autoheck after Wednesday (sometimes before).

And just recently, two good friends introduced me to Spelling Bee. It's another daily NY Times game where you try to reach a certain level called, of all things, Genius. 

The rules are simple, so it's easy to learn. You just make words using the 7 letters you are given. Words must be a minimum of 4 letters, and must include the middle letter. You can use the same letters multiple times in a word. Here's an example of what a game looks like. 

So every day, after reading through emails, I sit with a cup of coffee and start this addictive game.

Some days I get to Genius level relatively quickly. 

While other days it takes me hours and hours (on and off and while I do other things).  

But the worst are those days where I become frustrated and utterly stressed, trying to find the last one or two words to make Genius level. 

And some days I just have to give up.

Two of my good friends also play, and when we get to Genius we post our score. If my friends make it and I don't, I feel stupid. As if by not making Genius, I truly have sub-par intelligence.

Here are just a few of the texts that reflect our feelings on various days this month.

I know there are worse obsessions. 

And I can argue that it's good for the brain. 

But in the end, I just really want to make Genius, especially, and most importantly, if my friends have.

a good night's sleep

I love sleeping in a very cold room.

Senior year of college, I had a small single with a window above my bed. I remember opening the window, turning on an electrically-heated blanket, and then crawling into bed. 

But now, I can't even fathom the idea of an electric blanket. Do people still buy these?

My apartment is hot. I even had the radiators in my two bedrooms removed years ago. When I used to have friends over (ah, I long for those days), the first thing they'd ask upon entering my apartment was, "Why is your apartment always so hot?"  It could be any time of year. The date never mattered; the question was the same.

I run my AC every night of the year in my bedroom. It goes on when my light goes off.

Even still, I decide I'd really like a duvet.

In March of 2017, I get in touch with Meryl at Harris Levy, my go-to place for most bedding. She recommends an all-season duvet, adding, "The summer weight ones are too flat; you won't be happy."

It takes me a while to come to a decision. 

But I finally do. More than three years later. 

I buy the all-season, 38-ounce Hungarian goose-down, 650-fill power duvet. 

The first thing I do when it arrives is put on a duvet cover — no easy task. It's then that I realize that this duvet is going to be too hot. I have no explanation for why I didn't realize this before the strenuous, complicated effort of putting on its cover.

So I return it for the same duvet, instead with a summer weight of 28 ounces. I am sure by now Meryl must hate me.

But this one is great. Definitely puffy enough for my taste — not at all flat.

Last night the air was perfect. Crisp and biting cold. I open my windows wide and let the city air (and noises) in. 

I sleep well, awakening to an over-chilled room.

Yesterday morning my room was 49 degrees. Even better.

if you give a mouse a cookie

There's a children's book called If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. It's a story about how doing one thing can lead to another and another.

That's what happens to me today.

I go to my closet to find a liquid soap refill that I'm pretty sure I bought ages ago.

This leads to a major clean-up of a large, primarily non-clothes, closet. 

I end up finding and tossing:

• Small little gadgets that I'm guessing attach to some unknown larger gadgets.

• Empty Lululemon bags (but a lot of them) that I keep just in case I'm looking for an empty shopping bag. But really, how many of these does one really need? 

• Boxes that hold accessories to cameras I've bought over the years. If I haven't used the accessories yet, I'm sure I never will.

• Lots of paper cups for entertaining large groups of people. Needless to say, I don't need these. And when I do again, I'll get new ones. They are taking up too much space.

I also find things I didn't realize I had.

• Many many rolls of toilet paper and paper towels. I have both Extra Strong and Extra Soft toilet paper types; I was buying whatever I could find.

• Four unopened canisters of once-coveted Clorox Wipes.

• A box of orange disposable gloves; I think I used one pair, and doubt I'll use these again. Still. I keep them just in case.

• And a Costco-sized box of Swiffer refills.

Then I come across a big box of Peet's Coffee Pods for a Keurig (22 pods in each box), with a best-by date of August 7, 2020. I stopped using my Keurig months ago, preferring instead to make coffee. 

And a box of 6, 32-ounce chicken broths from Costco. I haven't made soup in a while. These have a best-before date of February 11, 2021.

I am all set to throw out the coffee pods and soup; none of my friends want them; I ask. But I feel bad tossing what I know are still perfectly fine products. So I post on Craig's List under the category Free Stuff. I of course include the expired, or soon to expire, best-buy dates.

Within minutes, I am flooded with responses. And within hours they are gone. The soup to Helen at 2pm, and the pods to Al at 4.

I now have a clean closet. Have made two people happy. And have wasted no food.

Too bad I never did find the liquid soap refill I originally went hunting for. 

dose #1

There have been many things in life that I've looked forward to. A shot in the arm has never been one of them.

Until now.

Last Wednesday, I learn that I am now qualified to get the COVID vaccine. I immediately go online, and without any problem at all, I get an appointment.

This morning I wake up to exactly 27 emails, reminding me of today's 12:20 appointment.

It's a cold day, but I dress light, as I always do when I walk. That turns out to be an unfortunate decision.

When I arrive at the vaccination site (a school at 215 West 114th Street), the line is long. — down one block, and around the corner of another. 

Everyone except me has dressed appropriately for a January day. Walking in cold weather is fine; standing in cold weather is not. 

Still. 90 minutes waiting in frigid weather, and no one is complaining. We all feel grateful just to be in this coveted line.

Inside the school gym, tables have been set up and people with orange jackets are administering shots.

The man who gives me a shot identifies himself as a doctor. He's a bit strange looking and acting, but the shot he gives me is totally painless. 

I walk home with a feeling of liberation. It won't change the way I live in the short term, but I  do feel safer.

I get home and schedule my second vaccination. Again with no problem.

I wish all my walks had such purpose.

at last!

I shed no tears in saying good-bye to a miserable 2020. 

    342,000 US lives lost to COVID — the deadliest year in US History. 

    Civil unrest.

    Exploding unemployment.

    Entire industries shuttered.

    A dangerous and childish president.

    And isolation.

So glad it's now behind us. The year, that is.

I usually have a few friends over. We share a dinner, and sometimes a movie.

This year I don't do that, but instead participate in a couple of zoom calls.

One for an hour around 5:30.

And another from 11:30 to 1:30.

It's easy to look at the world and see so much wrong with it. But it's important to see all that is right.

We'll have a new president.

The vaccine will be widely administered.

Businesses will re-open.

Unemployment will drop.

And Central Park will still be there.

I am lucky to have so many people in my life who make the darkest days brighter.

I look forward to again seeing them.  It's been far too long.

Last night when the ball dropped and the countdown was over, the world smiled.

Happy New Year everyone. We are ready.