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May 1961 Electronics World
Table of Contents
Wax nostalgic about and learn from the history of early electronics. See articles
from
Electronics World, published May 1959
- December 1971. All copyrights hereby acknowledged.
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"You don't see any doctors
handing out any free diagnoses, do you?," asked Barney, rhetorically, when discussing
with Mac the expectation of many customers for them to troubleshoot an electronics
appliance to determine what the cost would be to restore it to working order. In
Mac's Service Shop piece entitled "Worthy of His Hire," from a 1961 issue of
Electronics World, an
article is cited from a trade magazine where a customer refused to pay a repair
estimate fee even though he decided not to get the work done. It is the age-old
lament about people who expect you to perform work for them at no cost, but would
never consider plying their own trade (or profession) for someone else for free. Internet
resources are a modern day example of expecting to get something for nothing.
Mac's Service Shop: Worthy of His Hire
By John T. Frye
 Barney had been down to Center City for
two days attending a color television service clinic put on by a manufacturer. His
employer had had quite a time persuading the youth to go, for Barney simply couldn't
convince himself Mac could keep the store without him; but finally the prospect
of a couple of days in the city with all expenses paid won him over.
Wednesday morning, though, bright and early, he came bouncing into the shop with
the air of a knight returning from a long crusade. He made quite a production of
presenting Matilda, the office girl, with a dainty little compact he had bought
for her; then he marched back into the service department and thrust a black metal
object into Mac's startled hands.
"What's that?" Mac demanded as he stared down at it.
"What's it look like?"
"Well, a little like something that started out to be a hand stapler and didn't
quite make it," Mac hazarded.
"It's a nibbling tool. Here, let me show you," Barney said, taking the instrument
from Mac's hand. He grabbed up a little sheet of aluminum and held it against the
top of the tool as he worked the handle vigorously. The device ate through the aluminum,
leaving a quarter-inch-wide gap behind it. Barney executed sweeping curves and right-angle
turns in the clean-edged path cut by the nibbling tool.
"It's actually a little hand-operated punch that stamps out a bite about a sixteenth
of an inch deep and a quarter of an inch wide every time you work the handle," he
explained. "You can cut up to 18 gauge steel or up to 1/16" copper or aluminum with
the thing, and you don't have to cut in from the side. All you need is a 7/16" hole
to give the tool a start. And it's real neat the way you can nibble right along
a guide line. I figure it will be the cool, cool cutter for enlarging a chassis
opening to take a slightly bigger replacement transformer, for making permanent
templates out of sheet metal, or for cutting any odd-shaped hole in chassis or panel
for mounting things. I know we'll find lots of uses for it here on the bench, and
I'm hoping you'll let me borrow it now and then when I'm building something for
my ham shack and need to nibble some special holes."
"Wel-l-l-l, I'll think about it," Mac promised with a teasing grin; "but thanks
a lot, Barney. It looks like a real handy gadget, but you shouldn't -"
"Hey!" the redheaded youth interrupted as he glanced across at the set-to-be-repaired
rack, "where did all the beat-up radios and TV sets come from?"
"It's spring housecleaning time, remember?" Mac said quizzically. "This is the
time of year when the little woman wraps up her head in a handkerchief, puts on
her oldest and least-becoming jeans, and starts taking the 'sweet' out of Home Sweet
Home. But you're a bachelor and mustn't be exposed to these horrors. Anyway, she
pounces on any non-operating electronic equipment in attic, basement, or storage
closet and speaks thusly to her miserable spouse: 'Either you get that thing fixed
or throw it out. I'm not going to have it sitting around gathering dust in my house.'
Then he brings it down here and says something like, 'Look this thing over and see
if it's worth fixing. If it costs very much, I'm going to junk it.'
"Now when a customer says that, all your caution flags should come unfurled and
flutter warningly in the breeze. His wife has presented him with a problem, and
he's sliding out from under by dumping it squarely into your lap. He wants you to
spend your time; use your expensive tools, instruments, and service literature;
and apply your hard-earned technical knowledge to confirm his already-made decision
not to spend any money on his ailing device. What's more, in a surprising number
of cases, he expects you to do this for free."
"Yeah! How about that?" Barney exclaimed. "Did you see the story about the dealer
who took in a 14" portable TV set with instructions from the owner to let him know
how much it would cost to fix it? Checking revealed the set needed a new CRT and
two other tubes. When this information was telephoned to the owner, he said to let
the set go and he would pick it up. When he came in, he refused to pay the $3.50
estimate fee and walked out. Shortly thereafter he sued the dealer for $115 damages
plus the cost of renting a TV set while the portable was being held. The court ordered
the dealer to return the set without charge and to pay the owner $30 for renting
a substitute. Don't you think that's pretty dirty pool?"
"I saw the story in the February 'Service Industry News' column," Mac replied;
"but I hesitate to pass judgment on the court's decision. Maybe some factors in
the case didn't come out in the story. We have to believe our courts hand down decisions
that are fair and just according to the evidence presented. Let us start doubting
that and we're all in big trouble. But that single decision certainly can't mean
technicians don't earn and deserve a reasonable amount for the time and effort they
spend in locating all the troubles in a set and determining the cost of repairing
these, even though the owner of the set subsequently decides he doesn't want it
repaired."
"I hope to kiss a pig, it can't!" Barney exploded. "Anyone with a lick of savvy
about radio and TV servicing knows that the part of a service job that takes the
time, the equipment, and the brains is locating the trouble. Once the trouble is
diagnosed, a ten year old kid could usually make the repair, which probably consists
of snipping out a defective part and soldering in a new one. You don't see any doctors
handing out any free diagnoses, do you?"
"No, and maybe there's the rub: they call their troubleshooting a 'diagnosis';
we call ours 'making an estimate.' That word 'estimate' carries with it a certain
connotation of quick, rough guessing; and it is quite often seen in the company
of another word, 'free.' Yesterday, for example, I had a floor covering man come
up to give me an estimate on the cost of putting inlaid linoleum on the floor of
a room at our house. He came in, measured the room both ways with a six-foot steel
tape, stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, jotted down some figures on a
piece of paper, and said, 'It will cost $204.50.' He was in the house five minutes;
the cheap steel tape was all the equipment he used; and he was figuring on a job
that would bring him in more than $200 if he got it. He could well afford to make
a free estimate of this sort.
"But compare that with what happens when we take in a portable TV receiver for
an estimate. We check all the tubes with a tube tester costing more than the TV
set cost when new. This operation alone consumes twenty to thirty minutes if done
right. If the trouble is not tubes, we may have to use a $200 scope, a $50 v.t.v.m.,
a $150 sweep generator, and our service library in which we have invested more than
$1000 to locate the difficulty. It's not at all unusual for us to spend a full hour
on a set that has been out of commission for some time and may have three or four
different things wrong with it, for the only way we can be certain we've located
all the troubles in the receiver is to restore it to normal operation - in other
words, actually to repair it on a temporary basis.
"Consider another angle: if your face swells up and you call in the doctor, he
will look at you, ask you a few questions, and tell you that you have the mumps.
Then he will prescribe for you, give you some advice, separate you from five to
ten dollars, and be on his way. He does not go ahead and check out your lungs, heart,
kidneys, liver, digestion, and metabolism. You are sick; he has found something
wrong with you; and that is that.
"But when we come across a single bad tube in our testing, we don't immediately
grab up a pad and start figuring the repair bill. We go right on testing the remainder
of the tubes. Then we replace the defective tube with a new one and turn on the
set. All the controls are operated; all the channels are checked out; and the TV
set is watched closely and critically for any sign of faulty operation. We know
if the owner tells us to repair the set, he will expect it to operate perfectly
when he gets it back, no matter how sketchy his original complaint might have been.
And if he doesn't want it fixed, we have to remove all the new parts we installed
to make the set operate."
"Yeah, and if it's an average case and we do get the job, our total bill will
be under $20," Barney interrupted.
"True," Mac agreed, "and you can see that all these things add up to a vast difference
between the rough 'estimate' given free by many salesmen who gamble a small amount
of time and no equipment on the possibility of securing a job running into hundreds
or even thousands of dollars, and the careful and complete troubleshooting job performed
by a radio and TV technician. Yet the latter often calls his time-consuming diagnosis
an 'estimate,' too. Everyone should realize the difference. That's why I've had
these new claim tickets printed," he said as he handed one to Barney.
"Notice the part that stays with the set says in easy-to-read type that a charge
is made in every case for the labor, equipment, and knowledge used in locating the
trouble. If the device is repaired, this charge becomes part of the total service
charge; otherwise it will be collected when the set is surrendered. The ticket further
states this charge will be $1.50 for a small radio or record player and $3.50 for
a TV set, tape recorder, or hi-fi system delivered to the shop. If the equipment
has been subjected to unusual damage by fire, water, lightning, or tampering, the
charge will be higher. When the owner writes his name and address on this ticket,
he cannot help but see the statement of policy immediately above: but we'll still
have a sign prominently displayed that states a charge will be made for locating
trouble and determining the cost of repair."
"Do you think that will protect us if some chiseler tries to get out of paying
the charge?"
"I don't know for sure, but I do know that 'intent' carries a lot of weight in
any court of law. If we can show we did everything we could to let the customer
know he was going to have to pay for the time, equipment, and knowledge used finding
what was wrong with his set, that will certainly establish our intentions were honest
and above-board. It will be pretty hard for him to deny knowing he was incurring
this charge when his claim stub matches a ticket with his signature below a clear
statement of our policy. Notice we do not use the word 'estimate' at all. We speak
about work done, equipment used, and knowledge applied."
Mac paused and then concluded thoughtfully: "A long time ago, in the Book of
Luke, if I remember rightly a very wise Judge said, 'The labourer is worthy of his
hire.' I doubt any modern day judge, when he clearly understands the circumstances,
will try to reverse that decision."
Posted October 13, 2016
Mac's Radio Service Shop Episodes on RF Cafe
This series of instructive
technodrama™
stories was the brainchild of none other than John T. Frye, creator of the
Carl and Jerry series that ran in
Popular Electronics for many years. "Mac's Radio Service Shop" began life
in April 1948 in Radio News
magazine (which later became Radio & Television News, then
Electronics
World), and changed its name to simply "Mac's Service Shop" until the final
episode was published in a 1977
Popular Electronics magazine. "Mac" is electronics repair shop owner Mac
McGregor, and Barney Jameson his his eager, if not somewhat naive, technician assistant.
"Lessons" are taught in story format with dialogs between Mac and Barney.
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