Our furnace quit the other morning. It was 66F in the house when we got up. In June no one cares about the furnace. In April, we care.
Mike made the call for repair at 7 a.m. and we were attended to at about 3 p.m. It had been a very busy day around the plumbing shop. Many furnaces had chosen that very day to give up the ghost.
In our case it was the motor. Burnt out.
We'd had something repaired about six weeks ago and the repairman warned us something in the motor had been acting odd. We noticed that at times the motor sounded like it was working too hard. It sound like a car in second gear being forced to go 60 miles an hour.
We smelled an ozonish, burny kind of odor from the furnace from time to time and had complained about it about two weeks before the motor quit. My guess is it would still have needed replacing.
A new motor comes complete with some extensive housing. There is no way to just replace the motor proper. The rest of it comes with the package.
Now what in the world does all this have to do with gratitude?
The furnace was fixed the same day it blew. In this country, that's big. I'm very grateful it was attended to.
I have a furnace that works and it's still having to warm the house. We've got snow and cold.
I'm grateful to be warm.
The shop called the next day to apologize for the upcoming cost. It was explained there was no other way and the nice lady wanted to spare us the shock of the repair bill. She had been directed by the shop owner to make the call.
That's good service and I am grateful.
She further noted that due to the cost the shop would only charge us 10 percent over its cost for the part.
I have no idea what the usual markup is. I do not want to know because as it stands now we got a deal, and for that I am grateful.