Refrigerators are supposed to create cold.
At the end of July, my refrigerator decided to stop producing a low-temperature environment and decided to produce noise, room temperature gas, and plenty of blog material.
While everybody likes blog material, that's not exactly what I look for in a refrigerator. So I sent it off to my refrigerator repairman, who told me that he would fix it within a week.
My fridge finally returned to my kitchen this week.
My repairman has a reputation for being the best in town. That says a lot more about his competition than his competency (or reliability or professionalism).
Don Diego is the name of a hallucinogenic plant native to this part of South America. It is also my repairman's name.
Is that just coincidence?
Yes. (But that doesn't mean it's not funny)
This was my third occasion when I needed Don Diego's technical skills. The first time he fixed my fridge in four days, and it worked for three months. The next time, he spent a couple of afternoons working on my fridge, and it worked for a couple of afternoons.
This time, he told me that he wanted to patch up a hole that was causing the gas to leak out.
Each time my fridge breaks I have this conversation with Don Diego.
Ian: Can you fix my fridge?
Don Diego: Yes.
Ian: Tell me the truth. Because if you can't fix my fridge, I'll go buy one that works.
Don Diego: No, I can fix it. Don't worry. I'll get it done.
One of my friend's is Don Diego's nephew. After spending a few years at the university, he moved back to Arenillas and was in the market for a fridge. He asked his uncle if he knew of anybody with an extra fridge.
His uncle told him not to worry because there was one in his shop for a long time because the owners never came back to pick it up.
My friend plugged it in and realized that the fridge was still broken. The reason the owners had never picked it up is because the repairman had never fixed it. My friend brought it back to his uncle, and only a few months later did he have a functioning fridge in his apartment.
When Don Diego told me that the fridge would be ready in a week, I knew that it would take longer. I've lived in Ecuador long enough to expect that. (If you can't find this stuff hilarious, you would probably go insane.)
When it wasn't ready the first week, he explained that he identified the gas leak and would order a new part from the factory to patch it up. He said he would get it to me by Friday, at the latest (or maximo el viernes)
When that week passed, he said that there were so many holes in the back panel that he had to replace the panel. Maximo el viernes.
I came back the next week. He said he was so busy with other projects that he didn't have time. Maximo el viernes.
After patching the hole, he realized that the machine needed a new filter. He didn't have the right piece and would have to go to Machala to pick it up. Maximo el viernes.
He went off to go visit his daughter at university and stayed there four days longer than he planned. Maximo el viernes.
Before leaving, he plugged to fridge in to see if it would stay cold throughout his trip. It didn't. He would have to spend more time filling the holes. Maximo el viernes.
He plugged it in again and realized there were still more holes. Maximo el viernes.
After filling all the holes, he noticed that another aluminum piece needed to be replaced. He couldn't get the piece locally. Maximo el viernes.
He went to visit his daughter again. Maximo el viernes.
He discovered more holes upon his return. Maximo el viernes.
Before you know it, three months passed, and I still didn't have a fridge.
Last week, started the same as any other. I went to Don Diego's house on Monday morning to check in on the fridge and hear whatever excuse he had that week. He told me that he was going to plug in the fridge. If it ran well for a few days, he would get it back to my house.
I came back to his house on Wednesday. He said it was working well. He just wanted to make sure that it would keep working and told me to come back on Thursday.
No one was home on Thursday.
On Friday, his wife told me that the fridge was still working well. She said that her husband would be home around 5:00 and that she would tell him to send the fridge back to my house as soon as he got home. At 6:00 there was still no fridge in my kitchen. I went back to their home. His wife told me that he wasn't back from work yet.
Early Saturday afternoon I was back at their door. He told me he would run one last test on the machine and that he would bring it by my house Sunday.
I went to his house Sunday morning, and he told me he would bring it by later in the day. I said that if it isn't at my house by 6:00, I would ring be ringing his doorbell at 6:00.
I rang his doorbell at 6:00 and woke him up from his siesta. He told me that he had to get ready for mass because he sings in the church choir but that he would bring it by my house afterward.
At 8:45, he finally pulled up to my house with the fridge in tow. We plugged it in and heard some gentle humming and felt some cool air in the freezer.
And finally, after three months, the my fridge was back in my kitchen.
The real question is whether or not he actually fixed it. Hopefully, that's not the subject of another blog post.
Now a few thoughts on the whole "repair" process:
• Do I actually believe that he looked at my fridge that many times as many times as he claims to have? No.
• As I told some of my Ecuadorian friends about my refrigerator saga they began referring to Don Diego as Don Maximo Viernes.
• One would think that after three months of disappointment, I would be mad a my repairman. I'm not. Maybe this a case of integration (or assimilation) but I'm still friends with Don Diego.
• Stay tuned for another post that talks about life without a fridge.
1 comment:
This could be a reason for your own private, or not so private fiesta, we can name it
Dia de la return of the refrigerator
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