First there's this from the Usual Source o' such thangs:
That's not so very funny, izzit?
And then there's this, speakin' o' inflation... a friendly serviceman from our local appliance store just left the premises o' El Casa Inmóvil de Pennington. He was here to replace... unsuccessfully... the handle on my microwave, which broke off in my hot lil hand as I went to open the door of said nuker last week. Well, it only broke at the top mount and still remains attached to the door, which is a good thang... mainly coz I'd starve if the nuker went tits-up. But the serviceman brought the wrong part and the handle that was in bench stock ain't the right one, so it's back to the drawing board for to order a new handle... further repairs to be rescheduled in the near future, one hopes.
But my point is this: the wrong handle had "57.21" marked on the bag and I asked... incredulously... is that the price or the part number for that lil piece o' plastic? "Price," sez he. What's worse is the new, improved handle costs 85 Yankee Dollars. I'm glad this is a warranty repair, otherwise I'd feel a serious need for flowers and chocolates after this experience, if not a lil kiss.