Dead

My dishwasher stopped washing. I sighed. I did the dishes by hand. I complained to a friend. “Shall I come around and have a look?” - he offered. “Do you have any previous experience fixing dishwashers?” “No, but I’m an engineer. I fixed other appliances before.” “No, thank you. I believe in my girl power.” - I declined.

I have tried all possible programmes. Not that there are many: ‘70 degrees’, ‘50 degrees eco’ and ‘40 degrees 30 minutes’. I have switched it on and off. I read the manual. I have checked the tap. I read the bloody manual again. I took the whole damn thing apart! I checked the pipe inside. I put everything back on its place and ran another programme. The result? I noted the strange noise it makes and I figured out there must be not enough pressure for the water to go up the pipe. I saw my girl power failing, gathered the last bits of it and called a repair company.

The man came within an hour after I called him. He headed straight to the kitchen, switched the machine on and sat in front of it silently for a couple of minutes. When the machine started making that strange noise he switched it off and stood up with a sad expression on his face. “I am very sorry, miss. The motor is broken.” – he sad with a soft voice. He had an appearance of a doctor telling you that your child’s heart is inevitably failing. I almost went into a grief mode, but shook it off realising it wasn’t my child, but a cheap dishwasher from Ikea. The cheapest you can get, actually. “I am very sorry…” – the man repeated. I fought the grief. He took the money and left in silence.

No girl power can beat a broken motor. But hey, let’s face it: neither can an engineer. So viva la girl power! (I still have to repair the lamp in the bathroom. Or shall I call the engineer for help?)