The coupling from HELL.......

Sunday, Aug. 03, 2003-1:54 am
[email protected] Sunday, Aug. 03, 2003 .

"The coupling from HELL".

Oh, and I bet you thought I was going to tax the reader's patience with a relationship article..

No.

Today's episode is about the "I-Thou relationship" I had with a "Natural gas water heater Thermo coupling".

I know what you are thinking. ( you are saying "I'm bored". Click.).I can SEE IT in your facial expression. .But before you click me away, there is (1) an adventure and (2) a post-feminism counter - stereotype tale , and a lesson in patience about to unfold here. .

The day began with me extricating myself from the bed and getting up and ready for work at stepmother J.'s office.

On a quite day I answer the phones , work on the books, and do errands for the boss-lady.

.

(OK, I know that normally , NOTHING is more tedious than listening to anecdotes about someone's job. I know that the rest of you were not there, and you assume that you really HAD to be there. Bear with me anyway. This is a decent story.) At times I show apartments if the others in the office are very busy. Once in a while, since this is a family owned business, it is necessary for either me or my father to go and evaluate and troubleshoot a leak or a broken appliance and take appropriate action.

You would never know it to look at me, but I do have an ability to repair things and perform carpentry tasks. I can tell you what you can do with your hex wrench, power saw, a tube of tile grout and as of today, a thermo coupler. Today was the ultimate challenge.

I got a call from a tenant that there was no hot water at an apartment in a building that is owned and managed by us . .

I went over to check it out, expecting that the nastiest thing I'd have to do was to maybe have to re-light a pilot, or change a temperature setting on the water heater. I spent a little claustrophobic time in a dimly lit, cluttered, spider webbed, stuffy airless, windowless, damp, 90- degree basement/boiler room.

Did I mention that I was wisely wearing a pair of pink linen pants, and a matching tank top and white high heeled slip-on shoes. jeez!! Unless I had put on a grass hula skirt with a chiffon scarf that morning , there could not have been a more ludicrous ,less practical ensemble for working on a 20 year old water heater! (I always say, "It is better to look good than to be fireproof".)

After ruling out every possible obvious cause, I called my dad ( who knows much about these things) for a phone consultation. He decided to drive in to help me troubleshoot. (what a sweetheart) and he deduced that the 'thermo coupler' was in a state of disrepair. To make an hour -and- a- half- long story shorter, .....We dismantled the unit, we removed the broken apparatus, and installed the new parts. We sweated like pigs.

I had to run back and forth to the office twice for other tools and supplies. When I did ,they were all mocking me for being a 'plumber-in-pink", and they also amused themselves to death with jokes about how the two of us were like something out of a bad "Marx Brother's " movie. {Maybe my dad was supposed to be "Groucho" and I would be that lock-jawed Margaret Dumont, but with a wrench in hand???}... I was the topic of hilarity. They also went on and on with gossip and speculation about J-Lo and Ben's stormy romance, and Demi Moore's face lift. Sadly, I missed any subtle reference to anything resembling real estate! .

I made my second trip back to the office for more supplies and returned to my dad in the "steamy basement - from - hell"

During each attempt to re-light the pilot, I would turn on the gas line feed, and my dad would light the match. Therefore we began to hold the lit match far away from the pilot, as a test, and then moved it in closer, ...slowly,... to avoid a potential flash of incendiary gas vapor to ignite in our faces. (I hate it when that happens!!! talk about your bad hair days!!) I secretly wanted to say "excuse me, but I am going to go stand a few feet away..." but formal etiquette dictated I stay where I was. .

So far , so good, we thought. We did not know that some of the gas was seeping out , with every attempt to light the pilot. We were feeling like two slick technicians, (instead of what we really were: a middle aged woman in a ridiculous outfit, and a senior citizen , lighting matches in a gas filled room.)

After a few tries, we got it lit, but the flame was erratic and yellow, and it was shooting up the sides of the tank. No where in any product manual do they mention this as a good thing to see. The flame is supposed to be low and blue. This indicates dirt or sediment in the line, or an ill-fitting , incorrectly installed device. .

We didn't think the new line could be defective or improperly installed, convinced as we were of our talent in this arena. So far , so good? Actually, "So far , so-o-o-o BAD."

With each time the pilot light was re-ignited, harsh white flames were darting and slithering up the outside of the gas tank, and the smell of gas was pungent in the air. The newly installed gas line was emitting excessive gas and the burning pilot was like a an open throttled blow torch. .

It does not take Thomas Edison to figure out that real trouble lies ahead. .

Ever the protective one, my dad yelled to me ," get out of the room NOW". I'll find the the gas line and shut it off. .

Cool under fire, no pun intended, I said, "No, dad, we both need to get out of here NOW". I reached and quickly switched off the gas supply line.( I am no fuel supply genius but I remember exactly where that nob was from my part of our earlier process. My dad had not been the one who had touched it, I had. Since it was dimly lit in there, he would have potentially had to spend a few valuable seconds to search for it. I was not going to run away like femme fatale` Doris Day in a 1953 movie. From the smell (and taste) of gas in the air, I was guessing we did not HAVE the luxury of "seconds" )

As we hurried out , I thought of how much flammable hair gel I had on, and how long eyelashes take to grow back. I noticed the paint cans stored nearby, and felt it had been a wise move to bolt. We got the heck out of there, (and wisely did not switch off any light bulbs first). The outside humid city air was like stepping into an oasis in the mountains of Bora Bora. When we arrived back at the office, my boss and step mother "J" was waiting for good news of a free repair completed.

"J." said. "did you fix it?"

I said "no we couldn't fix it".

"J" : "ALL THAT TIME and you never even fixed it???"(sigh)

Dad: "No, you will have to call the gas company or a professional plumber to re-install another thermo coupler, or maybe even the whole tank. "

Me: "We gave it our best shot, but the flames were coming up too high and that line can't be repaired, it will need to be looked at by someone who has a gas vapor meter."

"J": (eyes rolling skyward)" You call that your BEST SHOT?? This is Ridiculous! You two spend an hour over there, doing Gawd -knows-what, and now you made it even worse than before! This could have been fixed before you two got in there and made it worse." ( bigger sigh)

Dad: (with irritated tone) "Just call the plumber. It is beyond repair." Under his breath was the barely audible "and so is this marriage".

"J": That is easy for YOU to say! I can't get a plumber on a Saturday afternoon. They won't come out, or they charge extra.(blah, blah , blah) They won't come tomorrow either. The tenant will have to wait till Monday. they will be calling and bothering me, and it is going to be expensive. (yadda yadda) This is awful. "

{~~~~of course, I had already had a nice talk with the tenants and politely explained the situation and the details , and they were most gracious and thankful for our prompt attempts.~~~~~}

Dad: "Ok . Whatever!!! " He turned and left.

"J": (oblivious) "I can't believe how You made it worse! Maybe it would have still been fixable if you two didn't go over there and make it worse! And after all this time wasted I STILL have to get a plumber".(sigh)

And so it goes...the confrontation seems to refresh her. I repressed the powerful urge to blurt out something defensive. I am happy to be impervious to critical comments. My life is a fusion of motherhood, work, and a little bit of incendiary hysteria...it's ALL good. At least I did not burn off my eyelashes and eyebrows. (Not a look that is good for me at my age .)

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