First, a moment of silence for a great American playwright, Arthur Miller.
In keeping with Willy Loman's demise, a salesman today earned his pay.
Microwave Part Deux (cue Kill Bill 2 introduction music)
The massacre at the Houston Appliance Store has become legend. Who was there, what happened, how many salesmen bit the dust, and what was the outcome has been hashed and rehashed. What lies before you now is the true story.
Rewind to the Day the Microwave Died. What happened was the micro went psycho. At this moment we had an obedient microwave happy to reheat a cup of coffe, cook Mac & Cheese or defrost a haunch of yak. And at this moment we had a psychowave capable only of POP. Forever POP. Unplug. Replug. POP. POP setting forever. Had we been able to learn how to warm our coffee, cook our Mac & Cheese and thaw our haunch on POP, we would have been One with the Universe.
We tore the psychowave from its built-in kitchen cabinet home and discovered that replacement would be a Journey. A journey of length and width and depth. A journey into Mind. A journey fraught with peril and death.
Fast forward to the Day the Microwave was Replaced. The psychowave was 10 years old. GE, white, 900 Watts. Since then GE "improved" the model and now it's GE, white, 1100 Watts, and, more significantly, 50 mm wider in length and 400 mm deeper in depth. It might just fit the Home. With some coercion.
The Two Pines Appliance Store
Enter She-Who-Is-Disgruntled-About-The-Psychowave. Enter the Salesman-Who-Has-Been-Working-Two-Days.
Somebody is going to die.
"Is this the same size as the JE 1560?"
"IS THIS THE SAME SIZE AS THE JE 1560, OR NOT, ARE YOU MUTE?"
"Er, hew nads spik wid managar." Scuttles off in fear of life. (Historical note: First salesman, although branded a coward, lived to tell the tale.)
"Hello, Madam, I see you are looking at our finest microwave oven. You must be a woman of discriminating tastes!"
"Will it fit?"
"Of course, Madam, it will fit."
"Our enclosure is 16 inches deep and this microwave is 18 inches deep. Are you saying it will fit by magic?"
"Er, no, Madam, perhaps you'd like to speak with the Vice President? I get him."
"No, I'll speak with you. Do you have a trim kit?"
"Trim kit, Madam, certainly we have trim kit. I'm sure we have trim kit. Yes, indeedy, on my Mother's grave we have trim kit."
Scuttles off. Returns downcast. "Alas, Madam, trim kit supply has been depleted!"
"Nevermind, we'll take the microwave. It should fit, shouldn't it, with some coercion?"
The Register of Truth
"Ah, here we are! Just a few clicks and we're done."
"Wait a minute. That field says 'Receive Ads'. I don't want to receive ads."
"Oops, too late, I already press button. Sorry!"
"Excuse me, but not sorry. I don't want to receive ads. I just told you I don't want to receive ads and you pressed the button anyway. Why do you need this information? Are you going to sell it on the Internet? Yes, that's what you're going to do you're going to sell it aren't you. Aren't you? AREN'T YOU?"
"LIAR! LIAR! A POX ON YOUR FAMILY! YOUR MOTHER IS A HAMSTER AND YOUR FATHER STINKS OF ELDERBERRY! ERASE THE INFORMATION! ERASE IT NOW! YOU CRETIN! YOU IMBECILE! DON'T TRY TO FOOL ME! IDIOT! IDIOT!!!"
"YOU'RE TRYING TO TRICK ME! DO YOU THINK I'M A FOOL? HUH? HUH? SPEAK UP YOU MISERABLE CREATURE! YOU SAID YOU HAD A TRIM KIT! LIAR! LIAR! ARE YOU INCOMPETENT, TOO? IS THERE NO END TO THIS MADNESS? HOW DO YOU PEOPLE STAY IN BUSINESS?"
"OK, OK, look, I start over. Fake name. Fake address. Fake phone number. But, you listen to me! If you have problem with microwave we no have way to find you!"
"Don't worry, my little kumquat, I'LL FIND YOU!"
And with that the salesman blanched, spun around in a 270 and fainted dead away. Klunk. On the floor. Out Cold.
I grabbed the dolly with the new microwave on it and headed out the door. As I was loading the box into the back of the SUV I asked, "You don't much like shopping for appliances, do you?"
She just grinned.
Cue Kill Bill 2 credits music.