It’ll be a cold day in fridge-land before she calls that customer support line again
After a 2 a.m. house-shaking thunderstorm, it took many hours for us to notice our refrigerator control panel was off-kilter. Resetting a power-surged life after disturbed sleep is a gradual process.
My husband and I had already dealt with several appliances and gadgets, but the scrambled display panel on the refrigerator took a while to grab our attention, probably because it wasn’t blinking like a microwave clock. Thankfully, the fridge’s innards were just chilling as always, but the wonky control panel left us iced out from dispensing cubes and water.
The scenario was vaguely familiar. This happened maybe five years ago. I remembered the solution was quick, but not intuitive. A few random panel buttons had to be pressed in a certain order. But which ones?
We decided to unplug the fridge for a minute and hope for the best. No luck. I dug out the owner’s manual. Our situation did not appear on the troubleshooting list. You would think power surge tips would call for some bold ink.
Escalation. I called the customer support number, a scenario that always puts me in a dreadful state of existence. Fake-pleasant robotic voices slowly sorting you to the right department, warnings of satisfaction surveys on the horizon, staticky hold music, thoughts of other things I could be doing, then finally, a human.
That long-earned hello gave me hope, because specifics were almost coming back to me. Years ago, the tech support dude said something like, “Press this display button and that display button at the same time for five seconds, and voila!” He was my hero and I might have told him that, because rarely does a major appliance problem get solved in half of a NASA countdown.
This time, something shifted with the fridge manufacturer’s hotline. Through the cell tower signals, I could feel a cold waft. The woman wasn’t enthusiastic about solving my problem, even though I told her the exact thing happened before and I recalled a simple push button solution.
All I needed to know was, which buttons. She seemed a bit snooty about the age of my fridge, which in human years would land it in middle school. All I wanted was its locker combination.
After a long hold, she came back and said I needed an in-person service visit, and she would gladly help set it up. I told her I was sure that was not necessary. I kept asking about which buttons I could try first, because it worked before. No help. Just attempted profiteering.
The information freeze-out continued when she suggested I was due to buy a new fridge anyway. It was a scripted deflection. Refrigerators never die! Evidence: Almost every open garage I walk by has an older fridge humming along, chilling unnecessary beverages.
My struggle morphed into politely getting this appliance antihero off the phone, which took about 500 NASA countdowns.
I began thinking, who needs ice cubes anyway? But then I became angry because my instincts were telling me there were two lousy buttons waiting to be pushed, but again, which ones?
Unplugging didn’t work. A printed manual didn’t help. Neither did the manufacturer’s “customer support” number. What was my next move?
The internet, duh. In my sleep deprived state, I had forgotten about the hive mind at my fingertips. Even before I finished typing the appliance model and problem in the search engine, my screen listed the two non-intuitive buttons I had to simultaneously push for five lousy seconds.
You’re welcome, bloated landfill: I fixed the beast. Also, I amended our physical owner’s manual with notes on what to do next power surge. Zap me once, shame on you. Zap me twice, write down the solution for future me. Because sometimes it’s a cold world even beyond the fridge door.
Reach Denise Snodell at stripmalltree@gmail.com
