About a year ago, my cheap, used washing machine crapped out, and since it’s a pain in the butt to get a new one into the basement and the old one out, I opted to spend a little extra and buy a new one this time around.
(Needless to say, the old one is still down there, right next to the old dryer. Maybe I’ll make a tool bench out of them or something.)
I shopped for about two weeks, gathered all sorts of information on different types of washers and read all sorts of reviews on different makes and models until push came to shove and I ran out of underwear.
That evening, I ran out to Lowe’s and bought a Samsung top loading machine on sale.
It was a good one. High efficiency. No belt and pulley to make the drum turn but a “direct drive” that instead work on a gears.
If ever I have the need, I can turn it on and off with my phone, which is really no big deal since I have yet to figure out how to load it remotely. It levels out the clothes by shaking the drum back and forth before starting the wash cycle and is has a glass top, just in case I ever wanted to watch the clothes get washed … or if I ever get a cat.
I spent about $700 on the thing, nearly the most expensive appliance I ever bought – new or otherwise – and I was feeling more and more like a responsible adult as I stood there and watched the new machine agitate my jeans and t-shirts back and forth in a sudsy bath of high-efficiency detergent.
With an attention span slightly longer than a cat (or shorter, depending on
how you look at it) the novelty wore off after about a load and a half, and the glass top became something else to not keep clean.
I do get a sense of pride every time I do a load of laundry, though, so I was so disappointed to learn my machine was one of the ones that runs the risk of its top blowing off and doing some “serious injury” to those within striking distance. People too, I assume, not just cats.
I had a couple options. I could take my chances. I could have someone come to my house to fix the machine, or I could lug the thing up the basement stairs, bring it back to Lowe’s and get some money back and a discount on a new machine.
I didn’t do any of the above. One, because I rarely think of the washing machine unless the underwear drawer get a little light. And two, because if it came down to it, and the machine decided to attack … I think I could take it.
I didn’t think that much of it again until Monday, when I got a package in the mail from Samsung telling me to put two new stickers on the machine and all will be well.
One, as you can see, sets new designations for the dial and the second warns to only wash bedding and waterproof items on the “new BEDDING/WATERPROOF cycle.”
I always knew Samsung was a clever, cutting edge company, but I had no idea they could fix my washing machine with a couple magic stickers.
Now, the good people from Samsung just have to figure out how to load it with a cell phone. They do that, and I switch from my beloved iphone to a Galaxy tomorrow. Not the Edge 7, though. At least until Samsung gets magic stickers to stop them from blowing up.
(In the spirit of openness, from what I understand, the trouble happens when people tried to wash bedding on the “normal” cycle. The machine gets spinning the too heavy load too fast and ends up blowing the machine apart. The new stickers designate the new “bedding” cycle which, presumably, spins at a slower speed.)