So last Saturday at I dialed a number I’ve had for at least thirty-five years, but haven’t used for about six. Would he still be there? If so, does he still help people like me?
He was and he does.
I heard the familiar deep voice of my appliance repair man, Mr. R. I have been a one-appliance-man woman for all of those thirty-five years, staying true to only him. Mr. R has been in my kitchen since I had long hair down my back and small children underfoot. He has visited me through three sets of cats and is himself a cat lover, another huge selling point. Over the years, I’ve always tried to buy only Whirlpool products because that’s the brand he recommends, although I’ve gotta say buying appliances based on who’s going to repair them seems a little counter-intuitive.
I’m not sure why I’ve been so faithful. Maybe just through efficiency. He comes when I call and when he leaves things are fixed. He also bears an uncanny (although much shorter) resemblance to Harold Reid of the long-ago Statler Brothers.
(And by the way, our carpenter John is a handsome version of Joe Pesci. Why I’m drawing pseudo-celebrities to my house is probably another story.) Mr R. also did show remarkable resiliency after that time Howard the cat leaped at him from behind the washer.
Anyway, even before I gave him my address last week he remembered that I live on a cul-de-sac and the fact that I was calling him on Saturday night was no problem at all. You don’t get that from some faceless contractor for Sears.
Unfortunately, his days of being folded in half in back of my fridge are over, but he did send the guy who will ultimately be taking over the business.
I felt the same security you experience when you know your doctor won’t be retiring his practice before your own parts call it quits.
|TA - DA!!!!|