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I arrived in Canada feeling a sense of déjà vu, with an open mind and a long to-do list for September that included indulging in French treats, particularly four glass jars of jam to sweeten my experience. It was undoubtedly a leap of faith, especially regarding the jars, as luggage is rarely treated gently at airports.
Against the odds, the glass jars made it to Ottawa intact, ready to be enjoyed on crêpes, which were also packed in my luggage.
Unfortunately, soon after, everything else started to fall apart.
If you’re curious about the lack of blog posts in September, it’s because I spent the month troubleshooting, fixing, and replacing things.
I was truly losing my mind. It wasn’t just the financial aspect of buying new items; it was the exhausting process of getting things operational again.
It all began with the dryer. For the first few days, it managed our laundry from Canada fine, but one night, while I was adding an extra twenty minutes to a load that should have been dry, I noticed it was running unusually quietly.
Confused, I opened the door.
The laundry was a bit warmer than a few moments earlier but remained undisturbed. Anyone who has operated a dryer knows that opening the door mid-cycle results in a flurry of socks and underwear being ejected—your punishment for interrupting the tumbling fun.
“I think the dryer isn’t rotating,” I called out from the living room.
“Oh, that makes sense. I heard a loud ‘BANG!’ from the basement,” Mark replied.
“When did this happen?”
“Hmm… about an hour ago?”
We tried everything we could think of, but to no avail since we had no clue how to fix a dryer. We opened and closed the door, restarted the cycle, and even unplugged and replugged it, just like IT support always suggests.
Unfortunately, that “magic fix” for computers doesn’t work on dryers, and it still refused to spin.
The next day, we watched a few YouTube tutorials, trying to act like we were repair experts.
“I’m certain it’s the belt,” I proclaimed.
Honestly, it probably was. But after removing 24 screws, we decided we were in over our heads—the back panel was sealed tight, and the side panels weren’t yielding any insight into the insides of the dryer.
“We need to buy a new dryer.”
In my imaginary life, I live in a tropical paradise, hanging laundry out on the balcony like everyone else. But alas, I reside in Ottawa, where it’s considered unseemly to hang laundry outside, especially given the weather’s inability to dry clothes most of the year. I promise I’m not exaggerating about this; while North Americans are quite happy to hang flags everywhere, they frown upon laundry lines as a sign of poverty. Many places still have bans on outdoor clotheslines, but Ontario finally lifted theirs in 2008—thank goodness.
So off we went to find a new dryer. I knew we wouldn’t be bringing it home with us. Several trips to IKEA with baby Mark taught me that a large vehicle, like a Suburban Assault Vehicle, is best for transporting big items, as a small Toyota can barely accommodate anything beyond human passengers. I assumed the process would be straightforward—pick a dryer, pay for it, and have it delivered in a day or two.
Feng had spotted a dryer at Home Depot. But as usual, I started reading the fine print.
“Wait, what? Delivery available only after November 30?”
“Seriously? It would be faster to bring one from China?”
“Absolutely! Please, just send me on a plane anywhere. No? Fine. How about this one?”
“October 17.”
“But today is September 9. No way.”
Suddenly, the brand, size, capacity, and even price became irrelevant. I almost shouted “This one!” when I found something available immediately, but it turned out to be a toaster. We already have a toaster, and toasters really don’t do a great job of drying clothes. Maybe a stack of twenty toasters on a traditional drying rack would work?
“September 18.”
“We can manage,” I said, checking the weather on my phone because, in Canada, making decisions without consulting the weather forecast is unheard of.
The old washer wasn’t a case of planned obsolescence. It had served us well over its long life, although it probably resented the additional laundry workload during the days when Mark was a baby, with half of parenting revolving around laundry. After all, it was 30 years old—a respectable age for a dryer to retire. Yes, I realize the new one won’t last as long.
Everyone complains about the “cheap crap” made in China, but my Chinese-made, Chinese-bought products have held up just fine. The issue lies in how Western companies purchase these goods at minimal costs and sell them with significant markups.
This brings me to my ongoing struggle with a small company you might know—Google.
I bought a Fitbit Charge 6 back in April. On September 13, the display simply ceased to function, showing only a white screen. I had successfully replaced another Fitbit years ago, so I didn’t anticipate any issues when I contacted customer service. However, now Google is in charge.
Enter the world of AI bots and seemingly endless chats with customer service—sometimes human and sometimes not. Eventually, I was instructed to send the product back and await a decision. A week later, I received the watch component of the Fitbit but none of the other parts.
“I returned the entire package as instructed,” I wrote in the chat once again. “You sent me the screen, but not the charger or wristband.”
We’ve been going in circles for a while now. It’s just Google—can’t you send me a replacement Fitbit already?
This issue seems to be prevalent everywhere. AI bots and underpaid customer service workers can’t be blamed entirely, but how does one resolve the problems this way?
I could also share my experiences with my bank’s new “improved” app that no longer displays basic withdrawal and deposit totals, forcing me to calculate everything manually. Or perhaps about the convoluted process of accessing my own account with the Canada Revenue Agency—do we really need all these authentication layers?
But I’m worn out. At 41, I should be able to keep pace with technology and the world! All I want is for things to work and to interact with real people who can actually assist rather than read from a script.
Well, at least I’ve got a story to share, I suppose.
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