In a perfect Texas twang, the voice on the other end of the line instructs me, “Now just hold on a minute. A truck is drivin’ by and I can’t hear ye.”
I wait and then continue to tell the salesman that the ice maker I want from him makes the clear, square kind of cubes.
“Y’ all don’t like the cresent-shaped ones? I’ve got one of those.”
He then tells me to hold again.
“Another truck?”
“No, are you old enough to know who Marlon Brando is?”
“Sure, yeah.”
“Well, I am watchin’ “Mutiny on the Bounty” and my favorite part is comin’ up.”
“Oh, really?” I try to be nice. I want my ice maker before summer.
“Here it is. The part when the captain slaps the first mate.”
I’ve been exchanging phone calls with Alan from Texas for a few months. I need a special custom ice maker to replace the broken one we have. It’s a fussy, special size, costs-an-arm and-a-leg number, but I found this broker who you can get a factory second from for less than half retail. We already have a door panel that matches our other appliances, so it doesn’t matter if there is cosmetic damage. I am sure he already thinks I am a fruity and nutty Californian who is willing to pay extra time and money for square, clear ice, so I guess I can steer my thoughts about this factory seconds salesman slash Marlon Brandon fan in another direction.
“Tell me about it, Alan.”
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