I got the news today that my trusty middling barely-functional sewing machine is not worth repairing.
The lovely lady at the store that sells $12,000 machines said, as kindly as possible, “How much did you pay for this machine? Because it will be $90 for the technician to go over it, and that doesn’t include parts. You can get a new one for $150.”
And she’s right. The internet told me I can get a new one for $150 that comes with a lot more features than my twelve-year-old $250 Singer POS model.
I started shopping around today for something in the $150 range. They exist, and for my occasional forays into stitchery, will probably do just fine.
Searching far and wide, I decided to swing by Sears and see what’s on offer from their traditionally trusty yet budget conscious Kenmore brand.
So I get to here:
And I’m intrigued by what the difference might be between “computerized” and “electronic” sewing machines. So I click on “Computerized” and get this:
Now, I didn’t know exactly what to expect.
A sewing machine…with a USB port and some sort of command-line interface?
A sewing machine…with a touch screen instead of knobs?
A sewing machine…with an operating system and social networking capabilities?
A sewing machine…that embroiders ASCII porn on aprons and totebags?
At the very least, you’ll notice, I expected…a sewing machine.
What’s wrong with just saying, “Sorry, potential customer. We just don’t have what you’re looking for?” Or faking a 404 error injury so they could sit out the rest of shopping gym?
Instead I practically got a link to Amazon and a virtual door that hit me in the virtual ass on the way out.