Made to last

August 12, 2010
As I was rummaging through my mother’s utility closet, I came upon her old steam iron. She told me that she bought it right after she was married in 1948 and it still works – a testimony if there ever was one to letting off a little steam in private now and then!  Her “dry iron,” which was a wedding gift (Gee, some people have all the good fortune.), finally threw in the towel last year.

As I was tripping down memory lane with her, I had to admit that these days, most people hold onto a grudge longer than they do an appliance – or anything else, for that matter.  Just about everything is disposable.  The paper gown they give you at the doctor’s office that barely covers your dignity.  Razors.  Batteries.  Take-out containers. Water bottles. Air filters. Even marriage.  Why the average modern-day marriage lasts just seven years.  I have dental floss older than that!

 “Made to last” is a thing of the past.  Built-in obsolescence is the name of the game. Imagine creating a market for your product or a new and improved version by using materials or parts that won’t hold up over time.

Case in point:  In the last couple of months, I’ve come to know our appliance repairman so well that I can tell you the night of the month his wife plays Bunco, which colleges his oldest child has applied to, and whether he prefers 2% or skim in his lattes.

“Can it be saved?” I asked him one morning, looking with disdain at the latest appliance malady. His diagnosis was straightforward.

“The whatchamacallit in your refrigerator and the doodad in your washing machine need to be replaced. I’ve got those in the van. But your water softener and furnace are past fixing.”

I went to sleep that night screaming for the Maytag man.

Is there no pride anymore?  I remember trailing my dad more than once to stores as the salesperson proudly patted the latest machine and proclaimed, “It’s the finest on the market.  It will last you for years.”

But when my husband and I went to one of those big box stores recently and asked about our DVD player that had gone on the fritz, the store rep unapologetically told us that a couple of good years of service were all we could expect.  Built-in obsolescence.  See what I mean?

And not that long ago, the TV in our bedroom was in need of a costly transplant. The right choice, we decided, was to do without, but the TV still sits there, a monument to obsolescence that occasionally requires a good dusting.  

This never-ending spin cycle of “disposable-itis” really got me thinking the other day as I maneuvered around the exposed wiring of my hair dryer so I wouldn’t shock myself.  What am I investing in anyway?  Things? Or people?  Stuff that has a limited shelf-life?  Or relationships?

If encouragement, service, love and laughter were stamped with freshness dates, would I use up my supply before they spoiled?

 What is the smart money, really?

 © Copyright 2010 Karol Allen.