I walked out the office door and my wife didn’t waste a second breaking the news.
“The washing machine is broken.”
”What do you mean broken?”
”It doesn’t spin; it just starts counting down.”
”Ominous.”
An unfortunate but simply fixed adulting problem, right? But when you live in the second most expensive place in the world, which also happens to be an island, there’s no such thing as an inexpensive simple fix.
I set out to diagnose the problem. I’m a grown man. I have a degree. I can fix things. I was feeling empowered by recent successes with my trusty AI friend Claude, so I asked him for help. Claude walked me through which buttons to push to get a diagnostic error from the machine. The error apparently meant one of the circuit boards on the washing machine had given up under the weight of baby clothes and dirty gym towels. I quickly lost confidence in my abilities and decided to call in some ‘expert’ help to get the part replaced.
The ‘expert’ arrived on time, a shockingly positive silver lining in this saga, and after just ten minutes confirmed exactly the same thing Claude had already figure out. He then broke the bad news that Claude couldn’t. The part was not on island, it’s very expensive, and it would take weeks to get it here. Most of our neighbors with the same machine have already just replaced the entire thing. That’ll be $75. This guy should work for a consulting firm.
My wife and I wasted a few hours in the island’s only giant hardware store considering our options while our daughter screamed to be let loose to crawl on the floor and whack the bathtubs indiscriminately. Do we bite the bullet and get something new? The dryer is on the brink of collapse too, with enough lint built up inside to label it a fire hazard. But none of the machines they have there can fit in our small apartment’s laundry closet. They didn’t have the part just as the ‘expert’ lamented. My wife and I go back and forth but given nothing is going to fit, and we want the fastest solution to a working washer we decide on ordering the part ourselves and flying it in. One week max.
I spend time online finding the right part and praying it’s the actual issue. Some kind friends allow us to wash our dirty underwear at their houses and we drag it home in bin bags to dry in our barely operational fire hazard. But when Monday rolls around I get an e-mail from the US parts supplier saying they have cancelled our order because they don’t ship to freight forwarders. We’re back to square one and the laundry is piling up.
During my Tuesday lunch break, we take a trip to the only other place on island that sells washing machines. We walk around the empty store as the salesman eyes us up without offering to help. We find a decent looking set of machines that will fit in our utility closet so we now need to engage with the salesman who has decided we’re not worth the trouble and has returned to his desk.
I don’t like talking to strangers so I urge my wife to ask him some questions. We walk up to his desk, preparing to spend way too much money on a washing machine and dryer. He doesn’t stand.
“Hi, what’s the difference between these two washer-dryer towers?”
“Not much.”
“O-K, so why is one more expensive?”
“It’s got some steam drying feature.”
“We probably don’t need that. Does it come with delivery? We live in town.”
“Delivery will be about $100…”
We literally live down the road.
“… and another $150 for installation. You’ll also need to buy some pipes for the washer and a plug for the dryer.”
“It doesn’t come with a plug?”
I finally join the conversation helpfully repeating my wife’s question, ”It doesn’t come with a plug!?”
“No.”
“And how much is that?”
“Probably another $60 for the plug and maybe $50 for the pipes.”
I’d had enough. I tell my wife we are just going to have to find another supplier for the part and for some reason we thank him before leaving. Now to be fair to the man we later found out it is normal for a dryer in North America to not come with a plug, but I can only tolerate so much madness before I refuse to spend money at a store ever again.
We went around the corner to their parts department where I had to look around and yell hello to find somebody to help us. The person quoted us almost three times the cost of the part we had already tried to order and told us it would take six weeks to get here.
When we got home we googled the price of the new machine we liked at Home Depot in the US. Less than half the price! Add in shipping from Miami to Cayman plus taxes, and we’d still be well below the sticker price at the local store. We gave in and I hit order.
No matter how long I live here I can’t get used to the terrible customer service stores in these beloved isles provide, making the sticker shock so much worse. Fancy hotels, who train their staff to smile through White-Lotus-level madness aside - residents frequently have to deal with surly, social media-scrolling staff. You’re made to feel as if you should apologize for trying to spend money in their store.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your TikTok session Ma’am, but I really like the synopsis of this book. Would you be so kind as to let me pay you to leave the store with it?”
Grunt, teeth kiss.
I’ll be honest friends, these kinds of events have me feeling down about living in paradise. This saga started a month ago and our washing machine and dryer have only just cleared customs. We’re hoping it will be delivered tomorrow where I will now have to figure out how to install it because I refuse to pay $150-$300 for somebody to screw some things in for 30 mins. But God is good at reminding me when I’m starting to get ungrateful for my blessings.
Last week, my wife and I were enjoying an afternoon on Seven Mile beach. Recovering from our laundry woes and another round of washing at friend’s houses. Trying not to think about how much unexpected money we’d just blown. The weather was warm but not too hot, the water was beautiful, and our daughter was loving playing in the sand. Some tourists noticed my wife’s Canadian hat and struck up a friendly conversation. They were surprised to hear we lived in this beautiful place.
”Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” my wife said as they left.
”Enjoy your life,” they replied.
OK God, I hear you. Thanks for the perspective.