Fixing the furnace. A multicultural story.

The first time a radiator repairman came to The Frau’s small Swiss apartment, he shook The Frau’s hand, introduced himself, and then proceeded to take off his shoes.

A lot of hot air.
You need it in Chicago this winter.

The Frau thought this was both overly formal and overly informal at the same time. Herr Schumann, someone she just met two seconds ago, was walking around her apartment in his socks. It’s not like they were on a first-name basis or anything. So, sorry, yodelers, but as a newly expatriated American, she found the whole situation kind of gross. 

Well, fast-forward almost a decade and The Frau found herself letting two furnace repairmen into her big, fat American house. And you know what? She was offended. First of all, they didn’t introduce themselves. Or shake her hand. And then, they slogged up the wooden staircase in their snowy boots.

At this point The Frau was not only wishing for heat during a -10 Celsius Chicago winter. She was also wishing for a little shoe removal action.

But no. Up and down and out the door and back went the repairmen in their big, snowy boots. They were very friendly, just not very Swiss. Not that you can blame them, since Chicago is, after all, not Switzerland.

The Frau thought about asking them to take off their shoes. But this felt so un-American and she’s trying hard to be American these days so she said nothing.

Anyway, when they left The Frau’s house, she happily had heat. But she also had ten minutes of floor cleaning to do too. Which, when you’ve just spent $500, isn’t exactly an added bonus.

Shameless self-promotion section: if you enjoy little stories like these, you may enjoy The Frau’s book, Swiss Life: 30 Things I Wish I’d Known. It’s now available via Bergli Books in Basel as well. 

I am Repair Man. Do what I say!

I am really getting fed up with Serivcetechnikers (repairmen). They barely give us any notice (or maybe our Wincasa apartment managers are to blame—which wouldn’t surprise me) before not asking, but demanding entrance to our apartment to do things like play with our radiators for hours at a time.

Last night our neighbor informed us (they never talk to us directly...) that they would like to work on our apartment on Friday at 10. Well, this wasn’t going to work, as both my husband and I work. (Imagine that, no housefrau at home!)

So I called up, after plotting my conversation ahead of time in German, and politely told them Friday wouldn’t work, and could they come on Monday instead, when I could clear my schedule to be home.

“No,” was the curt German reply, “we have to do it this afternoon or Friday.” Well too bad for you, I thought, maybe next time you should plan ahead.

I told him I worked in Zurich and couldn’t be there this afternoon. And my husband had meetings all day and couldn’t just leave at their demand to open a door. Then he said I had to leave my key with the neighbor so he could have entrance for tomorrow.

The thing is, since we were victims of theft a month ago, we’re a little cautious right now, especially since we found out the police aren’t open when you need them, nor are they at any way helpful in dealing with crime.

The other factor is that house keys are so expensive (imagine that, something expensive in Switzerland) to replace that insurance companies won’t even cover them.

But alas, apparently we have no choice in the matter. The customer (or renter) is never right in Switzerland, so I know there’s no hope in changing things. Which only means, sometimes I really just want to go home. But when you live in an overpriced, terribly managed apartment building, where is that?