Microwave madness turns up the heat on my dining habits

10:33am Friday 26th October 2007

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LET me bring you a tale of honesty triumphing over greed and deceit, and of despair and frustration vanquishing short-lived joyful celebrations.

Yes, let me bring you the tale of my microwaves.

For those with a faint-hearted disposition, turn away now because this fable of middle England consumer madness may just be too much for you.

It all started 17 years ago when we were given our first microwave as a wedding present. It cost more than £200 and was built like a Rolls Royce.

I felt guilty because I remembered a northern girl from my journalism course telling us how microwaves were the work of the devil and a corruption of all that was good in the kitchen.

But it was a lot easier to heat up my cereal milk in there, so I pushed the sermon to the back of my mind and forgot about it for about 15 years.

Finally, the machine broke down and we replaced it with a new model which I assumed would also last at least 15 years, seeing it was built to a modern spec in the new digital age.

Wrong. The thing blew up after two-and-a-half years.

We decided to cut our losses because we'd forgotten how to cook on the stove and therefore had nothing to eat.

So Mrs Editor's Chair dispatched me to a store one evening to buy a model she'd found for £69.99.

I actually didn't care a fig how good this new device was. It was less than £70 and to me that was a result.

But when I brought it home, Mrs EC told me they'd given me the wrong one. Instead of the low-end microwave, they'd given me one with a convection oven.

This one was worth £20 more than I'd paid and a lot nicer looking. You could say it was the shop's fault, so there was no need to return it.

But before I had a chance to mull any further on this, we discovered it had a large dent on the side.

I'd do anything for an easy life, so I suggested covering up the dent with a sticker of the England football team, but Mrs EC was insistent it had to be returned.

So we plonked it back in the box and I lugged it back to the store.

Now here's where I could have lied if I had been dishonest. I could have lost' my receipt and asked for a straight exchange, and it might have worked.

But I came clean and told the assistant this damaged but more expensive microwave had been given to me in error. He informed me I'd have to pay an extra £20 if I wanted the same model, otherwise I'd have to settle for the cheaper one I was going to buy in the first place.

This is where I could have become indignant. In fact, I do indignant pretty well. Indignancy would be my chosen subject if ever I sat in the Mastermind chair.

But, for once, I decided to stay chilled. I'd do the right thing, and give them the £20 extra.

So they brought out the replacement expensive micro-wave, and I brought out my credit card.

But to my shock, the manager said there was no need and let me have the replacement £89.99 mach-ine for £69.99.

I danced a jig of delight as I left the store. My honesty had reaped its reward. My conscience was clear and my bank account was £20 better off.

I was working out how to spend the £20 when Mrs Editor's Chair looked at the second new microwave and told me she didn't like the plastic on the doors. She'd just seen a stainless steel model on the internet for £99.99 and wanted me to get that instead.

After much protesting, we drove back to the same store, where I ended up also buying the £99.99 one, then paying another £10 for a warranty.

Finally, I had to return again, for the fourth time to the same shop, to give back the £89.99 one which had cost me £69.99. By this stage, the shop looked pretty confused and I'm sure they thought I was trying it on.

I tried explaining the return had earned them a net £40 profit, but then I'm sure I spied a man in a white coat by the door and I retreated with my (£69.99) refund.

So, at present, I'm £109.99 out of pocket but have a brand new stainless steel microwave in the kitchen. Sadly, though, we haven't worked out how to use it yet and are now trying to cook on the old-fashioned stove.

On Tuesday, I gave up altogether and had a tomato sandwich for dinner. But there's one good thing. My brother looked at me that night and congratulated me for losing weight.