Me: I had to fix the espresso machine as well-
Husband: Don’t tell me. It sheared in two, so you went down to Mitre 10 and purchased some heavy industrial machinery and a mask, and welded it back together in the kitchen. And now it works perfectly.
Me: You know, sarcasm doesn’t suit you at all.
Husband: Ok, what was wrong with it?
Me: After your whole shearing/welding scenario, it sounds a bit lame. Er, ah, well, so there was water leaking around the filter.
Husband: Maybe you were packing the coffee too tightly-
Me: I considered that, so I tried packing the coffee loosely, but it was still leaking; so I tried half-filling the filter, but that didn’t work either; so I filled it right up in case there was too much pressure building up in the space at the top. Then I cleaned the head and ran water through the machine to dislodge any burnt coffee grounds, and then I scrubbed the O-ring even though it appeared to be fine-
Husband: Wow, you really considered the options.
Me: I did! I objectively analysed the problem and applied logic and guile to test and eliminate the issues according to cause probability. So then I emailed Breville’s Customer Support-
Me: Yeah, but all they did was write back and ask what model it was. Useless bastards.
Husband: When did you contact them?
Me: This morning.
Husband: You expect a lot from your customer support, don’t you?
Me: I just don’t see why they can’t support customers, as per their job description.
Husband: Fair enough. So-
Me: Well, I’m still waiting to hear from them. But I managed to fix it in the meantime-
Husband: For the love of God, HOW?
Me: Changed the brand of coffee.
Husband: . . .
Me: It was too fine a grind, so I’ve gone back to Robert Harris. Seems to have done the trick.
Husband: You’re a genius.
Me: I’m pretty special