The author, John Marek, is executive director of the Anson Economic Development Partnership. 

I awoke Saturday morning, padded to the kitchen, pulled a mug down from the cupboard and inserted it under the water dispenser on the door of my refrigerator, just as I do almost every morning. Rather than a stream of cool, filtered water, though, on this morning I got a shrill beep and a flashing blue 8888 on the display. Undeterred, I pulled the cup back, waited a few seconds and tried again … with the same result.

“Now that’s trouble,” I thought. Still harboring some vague hope that a simple fix might restore the normality of my weekend routine, I reached behind the hulking machine and pulled the plug. It works for computers, so maybe I would get lucky. Half a minute later I restored the connection and again, tentatively, placed my cup under the dispenser. 

Beep. 8888. 8888. 8888. 8888. 8888. 8888. 

Our Whirlpool refrigerator is 10 years old, well past the manufacturer’s warranty, but still relatively spry for a fridge, or so I thought. I called the customer service number of the big box store where we purchased it, and was told – I am paraphrasing some, but the message was clear – “refrigerators are disposable, just buy a new one.” 

Okay. I get it. The big box store makes its money selling refrigerators; of course they would prefer you buy a new one. The only problem is that a refrigerator is not a lighter, a pen or a razor. It is not disposable. My parents had the same refrigerator for the entirely of the 22 years I lived in their house, and its predecessor, which I’m guessing must have been manufactured in the 1940s, chugged away contentedly, albeit a good bit worse for wear, in our basement for the majority of those years, as well.

A refrigerator is basically an insulated box with a compressor, a thermostat and some copper coils filled with refrigerant. Barring some sort of apocalyptic event, the box is good to go for decades. The rubber seals may deteriorate, but they can be easily replaced. The coils, similarly, are next to indestructible, and the refrigerant is also easily replaced. The compressor and the thermostat that regulates it are the only significant components that will legitimately wear out within 20 years, but again, while not an easy or inexpensive job, they can be replaced for far less than the cost of a new refrigerator. 

Of course, modern refrigerators are more than an insulated box with a cooling unit. Mine, not an extravagant model by any stretch, has an ice maker and water dispenser in the door and is controlled by a computer brain that maintains exact temperatures of 0 degrees and 38 degrees Fahrenheit in the freezer and cooler sections, respectively. Top-of-the-line models have built-in Internet connectivity, an iPad-like interface on the door and even an internal camera you can access from your mobile phone to check whether you need milk or eggs. 

Obviously, we’re just asking for trouble. 

And, indeed, it was my refrigerator’s computer brain that went on the fritz. Fortunately, we know an old-timey appliance repairman who has previously performed miracles on our washer and dryer, and who for $306, parts and labor, returned the Whirlpool to operating condition. That’s less than a third of what even a modest new refrigerator would have cost and, perhaps more importantly, keeps a couple of hundred pounds of scrap out of the landfill. 

The appliance guy is in his 60s, though, and is far closer to the end of his career than the beginning. He also comes from all the way across town. There may be independent repairmen nearer to me, but if there are, they do an extraordinary job of keeping their presence a secret.

It’s not surprising that in a world where it’s far less hassle to just throw stuff out and buy a new one than to get something fixed, the repairman is a dying breed. And that’s a shame.