Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts

Monday, December 18, 2017

Shopping for a microwave.

Microwaves. I had a countertop 0.6 cubic foot model that lasted 17 years and handled every task I put to it--heating coffee, warming leftovers, finishing off still-slightly-raw cooked fish, cooking vegetables, baking baking potatoes. Turn the power level to High, turn the minutes dial to the desired number and hit On. If the dish started shrinking or smoking, take it out early, or if it still wasn't hot or cooked, add more minutes. It stopped working and I replaced it a few months ago. With 4 models and counting.
I went to my warehouse club knowing I wanted a 0.6 cubic foot model but their units were measured by dimension, 12 by 18 by 9 inches, or whatever, so rather than driving home to tape measure the darn thing, I bought the smallest unit. It turned out to be too big for my limited counter space (I think I eventually determined it was 1.1 cubic feet--but that helpful size-description was not listed anywhere on the sealed box) so I took it back. At the big box store I bought a 0.7 cubic foot unit with the simplest touchpad control, and trying to conjure up 40 seconds of Hot or 2 minutes of Cook on that thing's confusing sequence of sequential levels on the detailed touchpad was beyond my ability level or level of interest. Back it went as useless.
I found a stripped down floor display microwave unit of a suitable size at a Bed & Bath type store, with an even more simply laid out touchpad control for $36 and it worked fine for two months. I discovered with a little trial and error that once I had set the Cook "button" and, I think, put the Power Level on High, that if I pressed the numbers buttons correctly and hit the On button, the thing would warm the object placed inside for that length of time. It was annoying in that if you left the door open the light stayed on, if you didn't remove the food after cooking it would keep on beeping every two minutes forever, and if you removed the food before its preset time was up, you had to "cook off" the remaining time to get the touchpad clear again because the Reset button was apparently for decorative purposes only. Oh, and you couldn't set anything for less than a minute. So I had a system of cooking on it that devolved into 1-1-1 (71 seconds) for warming liquids or topping things off, 2-2-2 (2 minutes and 22 seconds) for medium duty like "browning" a piece of meat or warming last night's cooked sweet potato and 3-3-3 or 4-4-4 for vegetables or baked potatoes respectively. Hit those numbers, hit On and it performed its assigned task. Until last week. Then it inexplicably refused to respond to any touchpad pokes, it just said Clock. I started pushing all the buttons, I tried 'em all, any and all sequences of numbers and pictures, but no ingenious pattern of pushing Reset button, Arabic number buttons, Set button, pizza picture button, potato picture button, roast picture button, or On button did a thing. It was either broken or crazy. I took to calling it Hal as I evermore forcefully pushed, poked, prodded and pressed buttons in my frustrated desire to cook a broccoli crown in a plastic dish with a little water in it as my fish's 20 minutes time in the oven whiled away. I had to set up a steamer unit on my stovetop to cook the broccoli. Why did I have a microwave at all then if it wasn't going to work? I didn't know if it was broken, or in deep sleep, waiting for the Mother Circuit Board to wake the sleeping sentinel up again.
Grumbling, I contemplated touring Best Buy, Target, Walmart and Home Depot to look at more microwave units to find one that had a simple and understandable control unit that would warm things up and cook simple things like baked potatoes and vegetables. I did look forward with relish, to trash day when I would dump my non-functioning unit into my trash barrel for transport to the scrap heap. My sister listened to my bitter complaints about newfangled, incomprehensible control units that give you indecipherable pictures for tasks instead of old fashioned plain English instructions. Being more savvy and smarter than me, she apparently was googling "Microwave" and "turn knobs" as she spoke with me. "I found a half-cubic foot microwave on Amazon with a turn-knob timer for $60," she said. A light went on in my head. The turn-knob controls! One for power level, one for cooking duration. Of course!
Tomorrow I will take delivery of a small microwave unit from Amazon for under $65 with turn-knob controls. You can't dial in seconds; it only operates on minutes. But when you think it's ready, open the door and see! The light won't stay on. You can push the turn-knob back to zero, it will ding when it's there. No more Reset buttons that apparently have no function. The reviews of the unit were uniformly sterling, like "I ordered this for my 93 year-old grandmother who has a brain tumor and can no longer do simple tasks and this works just fine for her." It sounds perfect to me.
I can't wait for it to arrive so I can set the power knob permanently on High and twist the timer knob to my desired number of minutes for the task at hand and just close the door so it starts. It dings once when it's done, and you can leave the door open.

Friday, September 8, 2017

Psst!

"Do you have your Safeway card?"
"Yeah, sure. Here it is."
"What's this? It's a library card."
"Oh, I brought the wrong card in from the car."

"Well, enter your phone number, that'll work."
"Okay. This probably means that my Safeway card wouldn't work at the library."
"That's what I'm thinking too. Here's your receipt."

"Thanks, and would you do me a favor?"
"What's that?"
"Please don't tell anyone that I read books. It could ruin my reputation."

Monday, October 7, 2013

My new car

I went car shopping on July 4th.  I walked over to a nearby used car lot where I'd spotted a car that attracted my attention, a convertible in my price range with only 10,000 miles on it.

As I walked up, the car was being driven off the lot by four people.  I was disappointed but when I inquired about it, the used car salesman said those folks were just out for a test drive.

After they brought it back and departed, I took the car out.  I was waiting for the dealer to get into the passenger side to go on my test drive but he said, "I thought you said you were local.  You don't need me to come along if you know the area."

I'd never test-driven a car alone before.  It was fun; I went through the parking lot near my house to see how maneuverable it was and how it handled potholes, I went over the steepest hill in town to see what kind of power it had, and I drove it one exchange on the Interstate to get a feel for its top end.  It was nimble, powerful and zippy.

Then the dealer put the top down for me and I was hooked.  I wrote a check for it, including a service plan, on my house equity line-of-credit and drove it home.  I just love it.
(Enjoying a morning run at Bluemont with my running buddy John by having the top down.)

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The first thing to go

I recently turned 57. I took the day off and at some point I went to the supermarket, a form of recreation for me. I was loading up my cart with the usual stuff, dented cans from the bargain bin, a banana, a 24-pack of half-liter water bottles, salmon, a Foster's, when I looked down and saw the cart I was pushing wasn't mine. Everything in it looked too healthy. Apparently, upon returning from some side trip down an aisle, I had just started pushing any old cart that was handy, and it didn't happen to be mine.

I went back several aisles and sure enough, there was a housewife wondering around with her arms loaded with food stuff, looking very annoyed, searching for her cart.

I sheepishly returned her cart to her and took mine, which was standing abandoned nearby. Then upon checking out a short while later, I realized that I no longer had my carton of water placed on the bottom shelf of my cart, just over the wheels. Ah, I thought, so that's where I took over the other cart temporarily, in the water aisle.

So I went looking for the housewife a second time, to ensure that she didn't inadvertently leave the store without noticing the water crate on the underside of her shopping cart. I found her in a checkout lane in an agitated discussion with the cashier about that very crate of water in her cart.

I wondered, as I sheepishly unloaded the miscreant water crate from underneath her cart, if short-term memory is the first thing to go.