The Range Battle - ATTENTION, ATTENTION!

The tall stainless steel refrigerator stands like a soldier next to the stainless steel dish washer. They give me security. I wear dark glasses as I peel and chop onions, lots of onions. The glasses do keep my eyes from burning through to my brain. Fresh ground sirloin waits in a large stainless steel bowl. It is already seasoned and has felt the A1 sauce slide thru its pores. The last ingredient, onions, plops directly in from the cutting board. My hands knead it all together, form a dozen good sized burgers that fit perfectly into my Pyrex baking dish that has been with me for many years. 

 

The oven has been pre-heating at 375 degrees. I open its drop door and no light is inside, no heat hits me in the face. ‘Gordon, come quick. Help!’ I call to my husband. The T.V. is blaring in the living room so I go there to get him. He is sound asleep,  snoring. The newspaper sport page is laying on the floor. I clap my hands as hard as I can close to his ears. It takes two claps before he asks me if dinner is ready. Why did I even bother him? He can’t fix anything. Even a nail goes in a board lop-sided. Still, I can do nothing and drag him to the kitchen. Gordon opens the oven door and sees what I told him I saw, no light, no red coils. My setting is as it should be. ‘Go find your GE contract, maybe there is a service number on it.’ ‘Christ, Gordon, our range is 18 years old, what service would GE give us? Give me a better idea.’

 

‘Okay, first, put those raw delicious smelling burgers in the freezer. Then scrub your hands to get the onion stink off and then get a jacket and we’ll go to Burger King for supper. How’s that?’ I glare at him. I flare at him. ‘You go to Burger King and I’ll divorce you. You get a jacket and we go to Best Buy for a new range. Maybe they can deliver it tomorrow. I’ll put the burgers in the fridge, not freezer.’ He doesn’t argue because he knows I won’t give in.

 

‘Appliances to the rear on the right, Madam,’ We head straight for it. An elderly couple seems upset as they search for a salesman. There doesn’t seem to be any. ‘Wait here, Gordon. I’m going to find a manager.’ It’s a big store. Two young men in electronics tell me he is in the t.v. area, but I can’t find him. It’s 7:30 and I am beginning to panic. The store closes at 9. By a circuitous route I find my way back to Appliances where Gordon is talking to a salesman. ‘Marcie, this is John. What do you think of this Malan range? ‘ Are you nuts, Gordon? Our newish fridge and dishwater are stainless steel, why would we buy a white range?’ ‘Because it’s on sale, that’s why.’ ‘Go sit down, Gordon, I’ll handle this.’

 

I ask John if GE makes a stainless steel oven and give him the size we will need, 36" high, 30" wide and 25" deep. Gordon keeps quiet as he should. John takes me, with Gordon following, around the corner of regular appliances to all GE offerings. My joy is clearly visible. I point to model LX107 and ask the price. $1250 with the attached microwave,
$1100 without it. ‘Gordon, we might as well get the microwave and get rid of the small counter top one we have.’

 

I look at him and see numbers running madly thru his head. His brow is wrinkled like an overstuffed pig’s belly. His eyes squint. He takes me aside and tells me to be quiet, don’t butt in. The surprise comes when he asks John if $1250 is his best price. John takes a pen and small pad from his apron pocket and starts to figure. ‘I can give you a 10% discount as a final amount.’ ‘Sold,’ Gordon says. ‘Wait a minute, Sir. There is an 8% sales tax, $150 delivery charge/installation and another $50 to take away your broken oven. Do we have a deal?’ I could see Gordon was about to say ‘yes,’ when I stopped him cold. ‘John, can it be delivered tomorrow morning?’ ‘We can’t do that Madam. We close in 30 minutes. Delivery can be Friday, not Thursday.’ I don’t stop. ‘If it isn’t delivered by noon Fri. I won’t accept it.’ ‘We’ll try, that’s all we can do.’

 

Gordon gets out his Master Charge card, gets his receipt, shakes hands with John and we drive to Burger King.

 

Friday the oven arrives 11:45. The kitchen is complete. All stainless steel soldiers are at attention. General Fridge is tall, mighty and commands the room. Captain Dish Washer controls Central Quarters while 1st Lt. oven is on guard and  heats up the area.

 

They make a handsome army that is meaningless without me, PFC. I control them all plus Gordon.