In a previous post I misused the word “warranty.” What they’re trying to sell us is a service contract, since only the automobile manufacturer can issue a warranty. I learned this while watching an episode of “American Greed.”
Here’s something else I’ve learned. Before taking out a service contract on your old beater, first check and see what the founder of the company issuing the policy drives. If it’s a Lamborghini or a Ferrari, be prepared to be scammed. And if, like me, you happen to be a senior citizen whose connection to the modern world involves a landline and rabbit ears, be prepared to be targeted. Why? Because Luddites are generally old, and as one grows old, it becomes increasingly evident that, sooner or later and most likely sooner, a vital organ is going to malfunction. Then you start looking around and think, “OMG! The same thing could happen to my household appliances.”
In TV ads for appliance insurance, anything DOES happen. Your clothes dryer, for instance, could croak the same way your old car did: You lift the lid and up comes a cloud of white smoke. Or, if it’s a front-loader, the hatch flies open and laundry comes shooting across the room. “How could this happen?” you wonder. And, indeed, HOW COULD IT?
You run to the sink to draw a glass of water and a geyser suddenly erupts from the sink drain. “HOW ON EARTH DID MY DRAIN PIPE BECOME PRESSURIZED?” You cry out. Dazed and confused, you plop yourself down in your favorite La-Z-Boy and are promptly blown out the front door and onto the street by a malfunctioning AC unit. At which point you stop fretting and take comfort in knowing you had the presence of mind to take out a policy with Poltergeist Providence LLC.
But here’s the deal: Why try to fix a malfunctioning clothes dryer when it would make more sense just to toss it? That’s what I did, and my new dryer is a far better machine than the old one ever was. It runs quieter, uses less electricity and even sings a happy tune when my clothes are dry. I love it, but I won’t be taking out a service contract on it, because in the future, I’m confident I can replace it with a new one that will not only sing a happy tune but will also sort my socks and fold my shirts.
