Saturday afternoon it was very apparent the shop's HIVAC system wasn't up to snuff. I placed hand in front of one of vents, warm air. Made the call. Keep in mind it's the weekend. They said we'll be there soon.
Meanwhile customers have rain dripping from their brows. My shirt is soon wet. I'm ticked.
Monday arrives. They grace me with their presence. Bad capacitor, the fat man said. He replaced it and flipped the switch and warm air gushed forth. I said, "Doesn't seem to have solved the problem." He smiled then said, "Just wait. It takes time," and drove away.
This morning after I keyed the door and walk inside I immediately know I've a problem. My little thermometer registers eighty-five degrees. I'd left the system to cycle all night. Made the call. He arrived two hours later. "Uh-oh, he said."
I see federal reserve notes fluttering in the wind.
Busted shaft and bad compressor. The system is fifteen years old.