Lileks: When the coffee machine breaks, life ceases to be worth living

There is no column this week. Coffee's to blame — or the lack of it.

To be honest, I was actually upbeat when the coffee machine broke. I looked at the brand-new machine, its lights blinking but unable to excrete a single jot of wonderful java, and I thought: If nothing else, I can get a column out of this.

And the online comments? Oh, they'll be wonderful:

"I had that brand it broke right away cheap crap nothing works anymore Oh well I guess the sheeple will buy anything if its shiny. my daughter bought a steam iron and it broke. I laughed at her and said what do you expect, having hopes and expectations. Ten years without so much as a fathers day card now"

Or: "Well, your first problem was buying a coffee pot. I use a cold-press French infuser that uses osmotic action to saturate the grounds. I get up at dawn and shave individual beans with a rasp so the oils can breathe. Takes two hours to make a cup, but it flatters my self-conception as a special person. No sympathy here!!!"

Or: "Ha ha my wife wanted an espresso machine, but I said if you want something short and bitter just look in the mirror."

So I was intent on cashing in on this opportunity. First step: a call to Customer Support, which is lazy columnist gold. We all hate making those calls, right? Those menus: ridiculous. "To hear these instructions in South Ossian, press 0." Then you're on hold for the rest of the afternoon.

In the old days, our parents took a defective coffeemaker right back to Harold's Appliances on Main Street, walked up to a counter and said, "It broke, Harold." And he just handed them another one. But his store closed when Wal-Mart came in, and Harold set himself on fire on Main Street, shouting, "Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?" And people just walked past, ashamed, because they'd bought a Mr. Coffee at the Wal-Mart and felt responsible, somehow. On the other hand, Harold's old shop is now a bakery and they have fantastic Cronuts.

Anyway, I knew Customer Support would tell me to send the coffeemaker back for repairs. This is like paying for open-heart surgery on your hamster. This is America. We don't repair things. We cut our losses and move along.

I might have the opportunity to say, "I will never buy your product again," but then the Customer Supporter will take it to heart. She'll go home to her family, and everyone will notice she seems troubled, but she waves it off: "I'm fine! Long day."

"No, really, Mom, what's up?"

"Well — it's just — I had this call today from someone who had a legitimate complaint about our appliances, and they'd soured on the brand. It made me wonder, really, what I'm doing with my life. I apologized for the inconvenience, but I didn't really feel it. In my heart I know I am enabling a culture of corporate indifference dressed up with a pretense of sympathy, and I just can't take it anymore."

"Don't cry, Mom!"

No, I didn't want anyone to cry. But I was going to make my displeasure apparent in that cold, logical style that makes them think: This person is really the best at handling appliance failure.

My call was answered quickly, and the Customer Supporter asked how she could help. "My coffeemaker doesn't make coffee."

"So sorry," she empathized. "That's not good. What's the make and model number?"

"Ulti-Brew DripMaster Pro Series 2000 X083T47. The clean button has been blinking for an hour."

"It might be trying to descale," she said, "but an hour?"

"Yes, an hour. An hour without coffee. An hour that has stretched into a terrible, foreboding void, like the time in the trenches of WWI when the shelling had stopped, certain to return."

"I understand. Where did you purchase the unit?"

"Amazon. Because Harold is dead."

"OK," she replied. "If you can e-mail the order number, we will send out a replacement."

"What? Like that? I'm sorry, but could you put me on hold repeatedly? Give me insulting questions like whether I'd plugged it in? Something! Anything! I have to get a column out of this."

Now I was really frustrated. I had the perfect opportunity for a clichéd, predictable rant about Customer Service, and she ruined it.

But next week's looking good. Cable's acting up, and I might miss my favorite show. One can only hope.

james.lileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 • Twitter: @Lileks • facebook.com/james.lileks