Consumers deserve products that work
Few things get under my skin the way our shower-curtain hooks do.
My husband and I bought them in April amid a quick makeover of our only bathroom. The saleswoman at the home-accessories store had raved about them.
“Hooks with these little balls on top make a delightful sound,” she said, sweeping her right arm as if she were opening a shower curtain and having the best morning ever.
I found the sound effect especially convincing but didn’t like the hooks that clip into a plain loop. So I chose a set shaped like a question mark with five little balls threaded up to the top curve and an attached, pretty dome where the “period” would be. The curtain hangs against that dome.
The set cost less than $20 but didn’t look it.
Barely a month passed before the first dome popped off. We haven’t had them for two months, and four of the 12 are gone, leaving our (normal-weight) shower curtain gapping from the bar in odd places.
I’m too mad to go buy more, even though seeing the ugly result annoys me so much that I’ve stopped turning on the light to shower in the mornings.
Yes, I know that’s ridiculous. I should replace them — now. But I’ve been scarred. What if I pick out another set that’s pretty, and it, too, fails?
I should have learned this lesson already.
When we moved into our home in 2010, we replaced
the kitchen appliances with a matching set. The original refrigerator was too small for our eating habits. The replacement looks gorgeous — big, sleek, stainless steel and a cool, slightly industrial-styled interior that includes metal accents.
It worked well, at the beginning.
Then those cool accents started popping off — they don’t attach to anything; each just rests in a groove.
Water — — left unsightly trails along the freezer door when our young daughter operated the dispenser. And stainless steel is a pain to clean.
These days, that The offending shower-curtain hooks dispenser randomly shoots out water.
The refrigerator is 7 years old, my husband reminds me when he notices me giving it the death scowl.
I understand that. But when I pay for something, whether it’s $20 or more than $1,000, it should work the way it’s supposed to. If it ends up looking terrible, it should be because I’ve used it so hard that it earned the scars, which serve as reminders of good times (as does my dog’s leash, for example, and the dining-room table, where my daughter makes her art).
I don’t want to discover something fails to meet my expectations after it’s too late to return it.
What home products have failed you? Let’s commiserate together. Send me an email with the details.