Everybody’s favorite First Hill bar/gallery sends the best email ever—here, in its entirety:
A Message from the Hideout
On Tuesday our ice machine stopped working. One day everything is fine, the next it is broken. Just like that. It was only four years old and had worked like a dream- not a hitch. Every time we lifted the flap it was to the brim with sparkling clear ice- hundreds of pounds- it was like opening a treasure chest. If you ever felt down, you could just lift up the lid and smile at all the dazzle, the technology, the purity of it all. Have you seen 400 pounds of ice cubes, all at once?
So Tuesday it all came to an end. The fan stopped spinning. Drips of cold water leaked from the throat of this marvel. We gathered around, pointed flashlights, plugged and unplugged, unscrewed panels and poked around. When things are working great you just don’t ask question, it’s only when they break do you try and understand them.
And then Justin noticed the intake screen on the back, noticed the thick fur of dust and bellybutton lint and eyelashes that stuck to the screen like a sweater. We had killed it. All it ever asked was for someone to clean the screen and let it breath. We killed it out of our own neglect.
There is a price to pay for killing. And when you kill a machine the price is clearly written on a handwritten invoice with parts that you’ve never heard of and labor rates that rival a doctor. It was a bitter pill.
We encourage you to look at the things that are working so perfectly around you and pay closer attention. Get your oil changed. Fix that funky extension cord, take a minute and inspect. There are batteries to replace, filters to change, chimneys to sweep- letters to write- there is nothing worse than realizing that something died because of simple neglect. We are just lucky that it was an ice machine.
You may join the email list here if you like. Reader-reviews of the Hideout are here.
I once had a temp job that involved helping Starbucks stores (via the phone) with facility issues they had. Broken machines, pastry cases, leaking toilets, etc. There were always stores calling and freaking out about their broken ice machines. Most of the time the problem was due to user neglect, ice blocking water flow, etc. But god, hearing an assistant manager demand they we dispatch emergency service for their ice machine (even on a Sunday evening) was always maddening. They would always insist that there store was the highest sales store in their state.
Please, less bolding. It’s a great letter. Wondefully written. And the bolding adds nothing to it.
Instead it’s like when you read a textbook that you bought online where the previous owner decided to highlight only the nouns in a sentence. And so your read the sentence and it hurts your eyes and doesn’t make any sense
Is to “breath” anything like to “breathe?”
The ice machine at my job hasn’t changed in 6 and a half years. I don’t remember the last time someone changed any air filter in it. The slushie machines filter gets cleaned because it’s easy to get to. We’ll be so fcked if ours breaks.
I love the Hideout and it’s prose/art.
Shameless suck-up to Bethany Jean segment: one of my favorite Vital 5 issues is one from a year or two ago that has your and ECB’s collection of new cocktail names and recipes for the neurotic and crazed. It still makes me giggle when pick it up….
This made me cry.
Murderers.
I’m still not willing to look behind my refrigerator.
Be glad it was just the ice machine. Hooverville burned down because of a ventilation fan that overheated and caught fire, which could have probably been prevented with maintenence.