A Dishwasher (and accidental ChatGPT story?!) Hear Me Out...

Our dishwasher is horrid. Dishes enter it dirty. Some come out dirtier. My newly aged teen is the unloader of the family and she’s been relieved of her duties - each time she tries to unload it in its entirety, she can’t since the dishes are gross.

My birthday is soon. I announce to my family that for my birthday, I would like a dishwasher. A good one. And Black Friday is approaching, aren’t we lucky?

In my old house, I nicknamed my dishwasher The Roach Hotel. Paired with a leaky sink and a moldy kitchen cabinet, I grimaced as roaches, big and tiny shimmied in between its cracks and into it. German roaches made my kitchen their home and I had to shut down the kitchen to finally rid them and their plentiful egg sacs which they drop here and there. Consider yourself lucky if you have no idea what I’m talking about. When insurance covered new cabinets and a new faucet, I felt relief shadowed by fear with using the same dishwasher. My mother urged me to get a dishwasher and even gave me a monetary gift, similar to pressing bills in my palm. Get a good one. So I did. I bought a top-of-the-line Bosch Dishwasher. In this dishwasher, dirty dishes became transformed into sparkling ones. The dishwasher could handle almost any bowls, think oatmeal caked ones, frosting laced mixing bowls, turmeric splattered bowls. It was quiet and mighty. It was amazing.

The perks of my new house are many. More space. A backyard, as in an actual backyard. A park that you can walk to. Actual sidewalks. Kids that ring our doorbell like the movies, asking if so-and-so can come out to play in an actual1 cul-de-sac.

The cons of my new house are there too. I miss neighbors whose townhouse driveways were two steps away from mine, the way you had to greet people otherwise it was awkward, people walked, walked, walked in their neighborhoods. There were more dogs than children, yes, but I enjoyed seeing people out and about. Oh, and a security gate - something I really miss, living in Atlanta and all.

And the dishwasher. I noticed its lackluster-ness hours after we’d already moved in and used it. I wish the older owners could just say, great house, sucky dishwasher, oh and the toilets - meh. But Alas, such stuff isn’t in the closing meeting. We learn to pre-rinse dishes, how to unclog toilets, that type of thing.

On a chilly day, I grab a couple plates and bowls to test in the new dishwasher, a huge puffer coat, the kids and my husband and head to Home Depot. I know I want a Bosch dishwasher. I point a mittened finger to the one I want.

We wait and wait to talk to a representative, finally get assigned to a good one. His actual name is John Adams. He tells us he’s the fifth best salesman in the district. When I tell him we want the Bosch, he types away on a keyboard, tells us its out of stock. It won’t be in stock until January. It’s November. We have four kids who blessedly eat three times a day. November until January is a lot of days. That’s 12 plates a day, not including my husband or me. Paper plates can only stretch so far.

The only Bosch dishwasher in stock is an ADA one, an accessible one for disabilities, people in wheelchairs, its dimensions shorter.

Hey, I’m short! Can it work?

Sorry, it wouldn’t work with a standard counter. But, do you want to see the Kitchen Aid dishwasher?

Not really…

John Adams assures us the wives loooove this dishwasher. You got to see it. It’s got great reviews.

Plus, he looks my husband in the eye, it’s significantly cheaper. I relay the Bosch slogan, But you can’t go wrong with Bosch.

He continues to sing the Kitchen Aid’s praises. He pulls up a video of the dishwasher cleaning the dishes, splashing away, sudsy soap and grimy dishes, doing its thing. It’s set to punchy music. A splashy symphony.

Then he leans in says This is going to blow your mind. I squint at the screen. At the end of the cycle the dishwasher automatically pops opens four inches to let fresh air ventilate in2, steamy air out - this helps maximize a drying cycle. That is prettttty cool.

I let myself be coaxed into seeing the benefits of a Kitchen Aid Dishwasher. I do Mom Math and don’t want to handwash dish upon dish for more than month. We commit and buy the Kitchen Aid , but when I walk out of the store, I feel buyer’s remorse, because I didn’t get the appliance I want. I feel even worse because I shouldn’t be this attached over an appliance. People are being killed around the world3, and I care about an appliance! My two childhood friends handwash all their dishes! But you see, I’ve experienced a tiny chunk of my life with a good dishwasher, and it really is a huge help, lifechanging even. It can help your work flow when your dishes aren’t dirty; when they constantly pile up, it’s a hindrance. And when you have a new open floor layout in your house, the dishes are constantly on display.4 Ugh.

John Adams hands my husband the receipt, wishes me, Happy Birthday. You’re gonna love it.

I anticipate the day of the delivery of aforementioned Kitchen Aid dishwasher (I promise you this isn’t a commercial or paid review), on my birthday. I set the stage for success. I clear the counters meticulously, put away each dish, scrub and spray the sink.

The dishwasher men come, they are cheerful and tell me I’m in good hands. I have 48 hours post installation to decide to keep it or return it if needed. My 8 year old crushes chips in a bowl laced with milk, doesn’t rinse and plunks it in the dishwasher. I gingerly place an oatmeal laced bowl in it. We collect all sorts of dirty dishes (think red velvet birthday cake cream cheese frosting), making some dirtier like the 8 year old, and press start.

The cycle is hellalong but, but the dishes sparkle! The chip pieces are missing, the frosting miraculously sucked up by the dishwasher.

It’s louder than a Bosch, I think as clean5 or almost, but it has a 3rd rack on top where get this John Adams said, it can fit actual cereal bowls6. John Adams tells me he has the same dishwasher at home- his wife is one of the wives who loves it.

But, the dishwasher doesn’t pop open at the end of the cycle to blow my mind, or ventilate air. It’s within 48 hours - I have a problem to fix.

I call Home Depot and finally get through to John Adams - he says maybe that feature’s discontinued?

To me, that doesn’t sound right with the model I have. I hang up and call Kitchen Aid who said the feature should work and to try to troubleshoot during my 48 hours.

I call another rep. She has a sweet Southern accent and troubleshoots via an online manual (why oh why didn’t they give me a printed one?) and says the door should pop open at the end, but she’s not sure why it’s not happening. She pauses troubleshooting then confesses she wishes she had a dishwasher. There’s only a communal one down the hall, too far form her apartment. I tell her if she works for Kitchen Aid shouldn’t they provide her one? She wistfully laughs. I hang up the phone consoling her over not having a dishwasher, rather than her telling me how to fix mine.

My dishwasher isn’t broken but if you’ve been sold a product that you’re told can sing and dance, and it only sings, wouldn’t you want to know if it can dance too?

Maybe you wouldn’t care like my husband, but for me, it’s suddenly something I fixate upon.

My teen sees my long face the day after my birthday and the way I’m obsessing over the door that doesn’t pop open. I have actual nightmares where I open the dishwasher and the bowls are caked with grime. I am losing it a little. Or a lot. who knows?

Mom, have you tried ChatGPT?

I am desperate for a solution, my 48 hours is running out.

I upload a picture of the dishwasher controls, type away. ChatGPT tells us how to set up the feature - it looks complicated, but it breaks it down step by step, it looks like something a technician would have to do. ChatGPT is telling us what button to press, how many seconds to hold it down, what to toggle. Still, I struggle. My teen takes over. We gasp when finally finally finally the right screen pops up. She punches in some buttons, tells me I think I did it!

I have to wait until the end of the cycle to see if it works. I try to regulate my emotions, to not get too attached to a silly old machine (in this case, brand new), to make my facial features pleasant if it doesn’t work.

The dishwasher takes a while so I do too. After my steamy shower, I plod down the stairs in my hot pink fleece starry robe, the one my brother calls ugly.

My teen is sprawled on the sofa watching TV with her father.

I anticipate the moment where I will get to see the dishwasher.

And there it is.

Its light blinking clean.

The dishwasher door four inches open, blowing my mind. 7

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Anticipate."