Chapter 3 - What the Repair Shop FoundMonday, I brought the mixer to a repair shop across town. The man behind the counter, Wally, looked like he'd been fixing appliances since before mine was manufactured. He turned it over in his hands, popped the housing open, and studied the motor for a long moment.
"What were you mixing in this?"
"I wasn't. My neighbor borrowed it."
"Ah." That single syllable carried an entire verdict.
"What'd she do?"
Wally pointed at the housing. "Motor's fried. Looks like somebody put it under a heavy load and kept it running even after it started straining."
"So this isn't just because it's old?"
He laughed. "These old KitchenAids are built like tanks. Age might've made it a little more vulnerable, sure, but this isn't ordinary wear and tear. Whatever was in that bowl was too much, or she pushed it too long after it started making noise — probably both. The second a machine starts complaining like that, you're supposed to stop."
"How much to fix it?"
He gave me the number. Three hundred and forty-seven dollars.
I photographed the invoice and sent it straight to Renata with one line: The repair shop says the motor was damaged from overloading and running it after it started straining. Repair cost is $347. Please reimburse me.
Twenty minutes later: LOL absolutely not. I'm not paying $347 for a mixer from the 80s.
Then a second message. You should thank me honestly. Now you have an excuse to get a new one.
I stared at my phone. Priya read it over my shoulder.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can I say a bad word?"
"No."
"Can I think one really loudly?"
May you like
"Go ahead."
That night, I paid the repair bill myself. Then I sat down at my computer and printed something.
Related Stories
