Forget Diplomacy

I inherited a tendency to avoid conflict at all costs from my mother. So when I chose to study diplomacy via International Relations in college, it was a tad ironic. Diplomacy involves lots of back-and-forth. Diplomats also try not to use threats because it stalls the process.

I suppose that I can mark the start of my journey away from conflict avoidance with my entry into high school basketball. Someone would clock me in the head or knock me to the floor and I would fight back by playing harder. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "Ooooh, she's so tough! She played harder!" But you must realize that it was a big step for me.

Flash forward to last week. Our water heater's life ended with an epic failure. It was way past its prime; still, what did we do to deserve the flood? We shut off the water to the unit. More water. We shut off the water to the house. More water. It was frightening to see how fast it poured out and we could do NOTHING to stop it.

I called our home warranty company and explained to them just how major our situation was. Their question, "Is there property damage?" Yes!!! Our carpet is swimming! Please help! It was eight o'clock at night. They promised to get a contractor out to the house. Two hours later I called back. "Oh, no one has contacted you yet?" No!!! We are still bailing out our basement WITH BUCKETS! Please help! Two hours later I called again. "We will try to get a third contractor on your claim." Gee, thanks. I wondered just what I would have to say to convince them that our situation was an EMERGENCY!!! I was tempted to take a drink of water and gurgle into the phone, "We're drowning!" We waited, all night, for them to call us back.

In the meantime, we had to set our alarm clock for every forty five minutes. The husband and I took turns getting up, emptying the bucket, and sucking the water off the hard floor and out of the carpet. It was like having a newborn again. Frequent nighttime wakings, out-of-control liquid emissions. We were exhausted.

The next morning I took my urchins to the bus. When I arrived home, I plunked down with the phone and was determined not to get up again until I had results. Here is my conversation, once the agent on the line knew of my situation:

"I really don't know how I can emphasize to you how desperate our situation is. This is BAD. We are WET. I am EXHAUSTED. And nothing is happening on your end."

"Let me see if I can find an available contractor for you.... (long pause) Ma'am? I apologize, but the only contractor we can find is not available until tomorrow."

Twenty-four more hours of this? You've got to be kidding. Alright. The gloves are off. You've knocked me on my on butt and thumped my head in the process.

"This is not acceptable. I cannot wait that long, and more of my property will be damaged while I wait! I am going to call my OWN contractor and bill it to YOU!" Wow, what a threat. So much for diplomacy.

Apparently, that was all I needed to say. They had a plumber on the way ten minutes later.

Just kidding

For the purpose of keeping my children off the radar, I shall call my seven-year-old "T".

Dear T,

We have been telling you for seven years that your birthday is on November 14th. What silly jokers we are! Yes, I realize that we were there for that eventful birth. And no, we are not old enough to be losing our marbles. But we have to admit that we've just been pulling your leg.

This has nothing to do with the fact that the economy has gone down the drain. Or that mommy's job is slow at the moment. Or the fact that the dryer choked and we had to have it fixed. Or that the dishwasher leaked into the basement and had to be replaced. Or that our water heater has exploded and is now draining onto the utility room floor.

No, we are just forgetful, loving parents who would like to correct their mistakes and tell you that you were in fact born... on... April 10. Yes, that's it! In five months we will celebrate your birthday with a huge party and lots of presents and plenty of sugar. I know, I know. We shouldn't have been joking all this time. But we love you all the same. Happy Birthday! Here's your lollipop.

Now, can you help me bail some of this water out from under the water heater?

(For those of you who worry, don't. Should the rain let up, "T" and several friends will be on a miniature golf course this Saturday to celebrate his eighth year on this planet. If the rain continues, we'll invade the local movie theater for "Madagascar 2", which I'm sure will provide plenty of blog fodder.)

Say what?

Last Sunday evening I happened upon a water puddle on the floor of our basement. It was in a strange place, which prompted me to look up rather than around. Sure enough, water was dripping from the crossbeams. I noted the sound of our locomotive-style dishwasher whooshing away and thought, oh dear. Or something like that.

So I did some research online and found that dishwashers are impossible to shop for in cyberspace. I would just have to shop the good old-fashioned way. I am a very tall person and therefore need to be particular about the dimensions of an appliance with which I spend so much of my time. After a trip to Home Depot and a chat with a salesperson, I found what I liked. Then I went home and searched thoroughly online for any consumer complaints. Nothing. Hopefully it's a good sign.

On Friday I went back to Home Depot with the entire gaggle of boys in tow. There was a different salesperson this time, a woman. I asked her to follow me and told her that I was ready to buy a dishwasher. I pointed to the one I wanted and pulled out my wallet. She took one look at my face, glanced at my boys, and said, "You are ready to buy a dishwasher. Let's get this done."

We scrolled through the many features on a computer screen. I didn't care about most of them, just the the child lock-out button and the Sanitize option for when the stomach flu makes a round in our house. There were so many lovely features that it seemed Maytag had it all covered. Except for one.

"Would you like to purchase a power cord?"

"I'm sorry. My boys were hanging each other over the side of the cart by their toes. What was that?

"A power cord."

"You've got to be kidding me." Most of the time I can employ a verbal filter instantaneously, thus avoiding any uncomfortable situations. This was not one of those times. "The dishwasher doesn't come with a power cord?!!"

She looked sheepish and assured me that this was a relatively new thing that Maytag was doing. Oh, how comforting. I wonder what else is not included with the dishwasher.

"Well, since I intend to USE the dishwasher, I suppose I would NEED TO BUY A POWER CORD."

I mean, really. How ridiculous is that? Is this the new trend in appliances? Maytag: "Yes, we know you want our product but here's the true test of whether you're actually going to use it. Will you buy the... (drumroll please) power cord?"

I suppose the hundreds of dollars I had already handed over wasn't proof enough.

ADDENDUM: When we unpackaged the new dishwasher, we discovered that yes, indeed, a power cord was included. I have no idea what that associate was thinking.