Let me tell you about my water heater and why I am fed up.
Last December my showers got increasingly lukewarm and, for the first time in 13 years, I thought of my water heater. “Hmmm,” I thought, shivering and shaving, “I wonder if this tepid and unpleasant experience is due to my water heater.” Turns out it was a good run, but it was time for a new one.
I schlepped myself to Home Depot and bought a beautiful Rheem Performance Plus that came with a 2-year warranty and a 40-gallon, ambrosia-dispensing, spa-inducing experience every time the tap is opened. When the installer guys showed up a few hours later, I cracked open a beer, set out a lawn chair in the garage and chatted them up while they drained my old tank. I think at one point the hose belched out a squirrel – that’s how full of sediment it was.
Embarrassed, I resolved that I would take better care of this new water heater like A Responsible Home Owner and drain the tank annually as recommended by “everyone.” So yesterday I marched out to the garage after thoroughly reading the manual, Googling “how to drain a water heater,” and watching 3 or 4 You Tube videos posted by everyone from Bob Vila to Buck in Clearwater, Florida on how to maintain this thing properly.
I turned the knob thingy to “Pilot.”
I turned off the gas and the cold-water spigot-y things.
I opened the pressure valve.
I ran inside and turned on the hot water in my guest bathroom.
I hooked up a garden hose to the drain valve and dragged it out to drain down the driveway.
I opened the drain valve.
Nothing happened.
“Maybe there’s a handle to turn on the drain valve?” I thought. I consulted the manual and a video on my phone. It was not clear. So I turned the handle on the drain valve and stood back. A trickle came out of the hose and it was cold. I turned the handle the other way. Nothing.
Remembering the Law of Opening Things, “Righty-tighty, lefty loosey,” I turned the handle back the other way. NO. THING. I took off the hose and looked up the drain valve. Worried that I was going to get a snootful of scalding water if the thing suddenly started to work, I went back to fiddling with all the knobs and levers some more. I kicked the water heater (it’s what you do with tires on the car, and that always works). I consulted and fiddled for AN HOUR. Finally I put everything back and went to have a nice pout.
Then I called the 800-number on the side of the water heater and got a busy signal. I went to Home Depot and talked to a guy lurking in the plumbing aisle who assured me I had done everything correctly and it must be a broken valve. I called the installer, who patiently listened to my problem and then offered to come out and replace the valve for $129. “It’s under warranty!” I nearly shrieked. “In that case,” they said, “You need to call the manufacturer.”
I looked up Rheem’s customer service number online. All they had was an email form to complete under the Contact Us section. I submitted a STRONGLY-WORDED note about my issue, hunted around some more and finally found a number buried in the manual. After giving her 4,000 serial numbers and model numbers and whatnot, the nice Rheem lady said she’d have a plumber call me to come out and take a look.
Today, the plumber called. Before he came out, he wanted to talk over all the things it “might” be and give me some homework to try:
Plumber: Well, a lot of times the city water works [insert gobbledygook I don't understand or care about] and you need to [complete and utter drivel] before you can do anything. You have [sigh] wedging your [do I have anything in the house to eat?] and causing [good grief, it’s time for a pedi…my feet look like hooves] to block. It's probably something you can just stick a hangar up there and wiggle it around.
Guys, I hung up the damn phone on him. I will never perform routine maintenance on anything ever again. I don’t even care what the issue is at this point. As long as hot water still keeps coming out of the tap, I’m going to consider everything is in working order. And if hot water stops coming out of my tap, I will call a plumber and hand him all my money. “Make it work again,” I’ll say, flapping my hands at the Rheem.
