We decided it was
time to replace our kitchen appliances. At the time, we didn’t realize what an
undertaking that would turn out to be. We learned a new term, called “supply
chain.” I was reassured from the store that our order was next in line, but
didn’t understand it really meant that our appliances, which were ordered in
July, wouldn’t arrive until December. I spent an inordinate amount of time on
the phone and sent copious emails inquiring about these machines. No one had
any answers, and I began to wonder whether I would ever see them.
I didn’t
understand what a hassle it would be to have the appliances delivered either.
We became very familiar with another term, called “window of time.” Since our
appliances were purchased out of town, we needed to know, aside from the date
of delivery, what time to expect them. “Of course, we will call you 30 minutes
before arrival,” we were told and gullibly believed.
These windows of
time were four-hour slots. How is anyone supposed to plan their day with a time
schedule like that? But what’s one to do except rearrange the day accordingly.
My window of time was from one to four, but the appliances never showed up
until 5:30, unannounced, of course. By the time the truck rolled in, I was so
happy to see it and was beyond caring that it was dark outside and that I had
been waiting for four-and-a-half hours.
And now those
gleaming, stainless-steel beauties are sitting in my kitchen. I’ve never had
such modern appliances before. Everything is state of the art. My oven has a
Shabbos mode that automatically turns off the oven light. I don’t think I’ve
ever had a light shining in my oven that wasn’t turned off permanently the
minute I bought it. I bought another gizmo that apparently attaches to the oven
door, and for the next 50 years or so, I won’t have to set my oven for Shabbos
or Yom Tov. My over-the-range microwave is actually a convection oven too, and
my dishwashers have a button that can be turned off to disable the lights when
the door opens and closes on Shabbos.
It seems I’ve made
it to the big-time with my fancy appliances. After they all were installed, I
reached into each packaging box and pulled out the instruction manuals. Gone
were the phone book-sized manuals that used to explain in detail how to operate
each one. Instead, a little two-page flyer was found along with the warranty
information. The instructions focused more on safety than anything else, but
really, how hard could it be?
I should have
known how difficult learning to operate these appliances would be when I
couldn’t figure out how to set the clock on my stove. Simple instructions were
printed on the numbers pad, but I couldn’t get it to work. I read the little
instruction manual but felt like maybe I was reading the wrong side and had by
accident stumbled onto the Spanish side.
This was getting
beyond ridiculous, but left to no choice, I humbly thought to offer to pay
someone, anyone from a younger generation, to give me a tutorial. I was getting
pretty desperate. Finally, someone suggested I go online to watch a how-to
video. That was my ticket to success, and the clock now works.
But who am I
kidding here? It’s just a clock. Is that going to help me cook dinner? Will
that allow me to have warm food on Yom Tov? I still have a long way to go in my
new appliance lessons. Maybe I should think of it as learning a new language,
like Ulpan. Perhaps there are classes at the local library on how to use new
appliances. I can just imagine our children rolling their eyes at my inability
to figure this out on my own. They certainly never bother to look at manuals.
Somehow, they just know how to make these things work. Face it, our children
aren’t afraid to push buttons. I also get the feeling they would have little
patience in explaining these matters to their parents.
Maybe I’m better
off finding some stranger to explain this all to me – someone who would think
of me as an old lady from “that” generation. Or maybe I’ll just skip the bells
and whistles and figure out where the on and off switches are and leave it at
that. Or better yet, maybe we should eat out every other night and make
scrambled eggs on the off-nights. At least that way, my gleaming appliances
will stay shiny and new. No great loss without some small gain.
Meanwhile, I enjoy
looking at my new appliances. I like dusting them and making sure they look
clean while I keep putting off learning how to use them. I know I’ll get there
one day because I’ve learned along the way that everything has a learning
curve. Besides, it’s a pretty safe bet that, by Sukkos, I’ll have it all down
pat.
Zahava Hochberg
created the weekly column “Musings Through a Bifocal Lens” for the Monsey Mevaser newspaper. She also
created a new section for the paper called “The Silver Slant.” Zahava can be
reached at zahava.hochberg17@gmail.com.
