What my washer manufacturer wants to know.
We said goodbye to our Maytag washer, which had been dispirited after the death a year or so ago of it’s companion Maytag dryer. We bought both ten years ago, which some believe was roughly the time the brand turned to crap.
Of course we could have called a repairman, but the last time I did that the repairman told me in his thick Eastern European accent that he would charge $250 to install a timer, which costs $80 and took me five minutes to put in. I was in no mood for a repeat of that proposition. I’d narrowed down the likely ills of the Maytag, but in this household there is no tolerating even a day of washerless existence, plus other parts would probably fail soon. Also, I want to use the tub for an outdoor fireplace. So we bought a new one at Brandsmart. Here we had a choice of top loaders or for twice as much, the trendy new front loaders, which our family had forty years ago. Top loader it was.
Everything went smoothly with the installation of the new machine, and I began filling out the registration card. The manufacturer wants to know my income, the industry I work in, whether we’re involved in bible readings, foreign travel, and coin collecting, among other things. Will this information help them make a better washing machine? I can’t see how, but it will “allow” me to receive “important mailings and special offers from a number of fine companies whose products and services…”
That’s it. From now on I’m filling these things out as Sandy Berger so he’ll be allowed to receive special offers. Jeebus, washing machine manufacturer, this isn’t a freakin’ date.
UPDATE: I almost forget. If you’re expecting me to reveal my hopes, dreams, reality, plans, hobbies, and other data, at least don’t make me pay for the stamp. Good googly moogly.
