If Your Toaster Talks to You, Run! (Suzanne Forster)

Bought a new appliance lately? You have my sympathy. I feel as if I’ve been on an appliance-buying binge, but not by choice. They just keep breaking. Some years ago I read about a concept called planned obsolescence, which means products are actually built to break in a certain number of years. It looks like the clock has run out on several of ours. Let’s see, in the last few months it’s been two vacuum cleaners, a microwave oven, a washer and dryer and a crock pot. Now, all we need is a toaster that doesn’t incinerate the raisin bread.

Have you ever noticed that it’s not the guts of the appliances that break? It’s not the motor or the gears or whatever you call the working parts. It’s all the gadgetry and the electronics. Our microwave was less than seven years old, which doesn’t seem very old to me in appliance years. The only thing wrong with it was the touch pad. It no longer responded to our taps, except when the Santa Ana winds blew and the static electricity had enough wattage to stand your hair on end. Sadly, we ended up having to replace the entire microwave because they couldn’t find a touch pad in bisque white—and there was absolutely nothing else wrong with the thing.

We just got a crock pot to replace one that was too small. This one is huge, six and a half quarts, so I’ll be able to make enough soup for an army, but only if I can figure out how to operate it. How hard could that be, you’re asking? Well, this happens to be a smart crock pot. It says so right on the thingee with all the dials and switches. I’m not sure what that means, but just the thought of a crock pot with a brain is making me nervous. Wish me luck with the instructions book.

Our most recent appliance purchases were a brand new GE Profile washer and dryer. This was a difficult choice. I know you’re not going to believe me, but the Kenmore washer and dryer we bought over thirty years ago has never needed a service call or a repair in all that time. The only thing wrong with it was the dryer Off/On switch, which we probably could have had fixed. Had we done that, I’m sure it would have outlived both of us. But we decided it was time to retire the set with honors and get a new one.

I did a lot of online research before we picked out the new set, and I can tell you that we settled on the GE Profile brand mostly because it had fewer black marks against it than the other sets we researched. I thought picking out a washer and dryer would be a cinch. I wasn’t looking for anything fancy and since the Kenmore set had lasted three decades, I figured we would replace it with the same brand. But sadly, they aren’t making laundry sets they way they used to. Not just Kenmore. No one is. We were told by sales people everywhere that none of them last thirty years these days. If they make it ten, you’re lucky.

At least the new set is beautiful, if washers and dryers can be called that. It’s sleek and clean and graceful, white with silver accents, and has more gadgets than a jet airplane dashboard. It also requires a degree from MIT to operate. The instructions manual is about as thick as one of my single title novels and has far too much small print and not nearly enough white space!

And how about those new cars? All the bells and whistles may be fun, but when they start going wonky on you, you may be spending more time than ever at the service bay. I know this because we bought a Jeep Grand Cherokee Overland last year, and even though they’re incredible driving machines, they have too darn many features. You know what more features really means, don’t you? More stuff to break! ::sigh::

I now think back on my beat up old blue Volkswagen Beetle with great fondness. I’m not sure how old it was when I bought it used, but it had NO bells and whistles. Okay, maybe a basic radio, but nothing else, not even air conditioning. Who needed AC? Those side vent windows were fabulous for circulating air. I just about ran that poor car into the ground, but it never stopped. I finally gave it away to a college student. It was his first car, too. Now I’m wishing I’d kept in touch with him. I’ll bet it’s still going.

These smart appliances are expensive! I do love all the fancy stuff. It’s fun deciding whether I want my underwear less dry or more dry, fluffed, dewrinkled or steamed to perfection. I even have a Dryel option and a rack on which to put shoes or sweaters, but is it worth it? I’m already longing for the workhorse appliances with nothing but basic indestructible parts and instruction manuals of a couple pages, written in large fonts with lots of white space, and easy on the eyes and the brain.

My car actually talks to me. Next our appliances will be doing that, if they don’t already. That will be a dark day . . . unless maybe someone designs an appliance that will also listen when we talk back?

Mmmm … not likely.

Suz