Day in the Life at The Sewing Machine Shop: Problems with the Low-Bobbin Sensor & Upper Thread Sensor
Plus, a Concrete Example of a "Tough Customer" + Why Retail is Difficult Business + Why I Love Deena Tounger
May 23, 2024 - 1:44 PM
A woman, who I will refer to as Z, walks into The Sewing Machine Shop to pick up her Bernina 770, which she dropped off for service 6 days prior (May 17th). We had given her machine a full COA (clean, oil, adjust), as well as solved her main problem, which was the machine’s low bobbin sensor was not working as it was supposed to. It was telling her that her bobbin thread was out when it wasn’t, plus it was failing to warn her when it was running low.
The function of the low bobbin sensor is to sense when the bobbin thread is running low, and then flash a warning on the screen so the user is aware of the low bobbin. It also senses when the bobbin thread is completely out and stops you from sewing until you refill the bobbin.
Typically, when a bobbin sensor is out of whack, the cause is that the “eye” of the sensor itself is dirty and gives a false reading, or pieces of compacted lint block the sensor eye from getting a clear look at the bobbin thread. Blowing out the lint and cleaning the surface of the sensor eyes usually fixes the problem.
However, during this particular service, our technicians discovered that the machine’s sensor was working just fine, and that the cause of the false readings was because the bobbin itself was faulty.
Bernina 7-series machines use a special bobbin dubbed the “Jumbo bobbin”, which holds 70% more thread than the average bobbin. Jumbo bobbins have silver markings on them, and these silver markings are critical for the bobbin sensor to work correctly. If the silver markings are scratched or damaged, the sensor will give false readings, as was the case here— the silver markings on the bobbin in Z’s machine were scratched, rendering the bobbin faulty.
All of this information was communicated to Z when she picked up her machine on May 23rd, at 1:44 PM
May 23, 2024 - 3:37 PM
The phone rings and I pick up.
Z is on the phone, speaking to me in a tone that could only be described as exasperation. She has just sat down to sew on her machine, but her bobbin is missing.
“There was a bobbin in the machine when I dropped it off for service!”
I looked up the notes that our technicians wrote on her service ticket. I explained to Z that we discovered her bobbin sensor issue was caused by a faulty bobbin, not the sensor itself, so our technician likely threw away the damaged bobbin.
“But now I can’t sew!”
“Do you not have more bobbins at home?” I ask.
“Of course I have more bobbins at home! But I’m not at my house, I’m taking care of grandkids.”
I apologize to Z. Because her main issue was caused by a faulty bobbin, we should have offered to sell her a new pack of bobbins and not assumed that she had more bobbins at home. That was our mistake. Whenever there is an issue with bobbins/needles/presser feet/etc, our staff is trained to sell the customer replacement parts.
In light of our mistake, I told Z that if she could come down to the store before we close at 5:00 PM, I would give her a new bobbin for free.
“No. It’s impossible for me to get down there in time.”
“I can ship it to you if you’d like.”
“So I don’t get to sew tonight, is that what you’re telling me?”
“No, that’s not what I am saying—”
“Drive it to me.”
“What???”
“Get in your car and bring me the bobbin.”
Even if she had asked me nicely, this is not a request I could complete in the middle of a workday. I told Z flat out that I could not leave work to drive the bobbin to her location
“Fine, I guess I’ll try to come down then. Have one ready for me when I get there!”
And with that, she hangs up the phone.
May 23, 2024 - 3:49 PM
After getting off the phone, I went upstairs to our showroom floor to repair a needle threader on one of our floor model machines. Nobody else was in the shop except me and my coworker.
I hear the front door open.
I hear my coworker greet the person who entered the shop with a friendly, “How can I help you?”
I hear the person respond in an extremely rude tone of voice: “Bobbin.”
No way that’s Z, I thought to myself. Based on her tone of voice and how angry she seemed over the phone only minutes ago, I thought Z must live at least half an hour from the shop. She had said that getting down to the shop for a bobbin before we closed at 5 would be impossible.
I walk downstairs toward the front door. Sure enough, there is Z in the flesh, standing in front of my coworker with her arm extended out, palm open.
“Bobbin,” she repeats.
“What bobbin are you looking for?” my coworker asks. He has no idea what she’s talking about.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Bernina bobbin!”
I walk down the stairs and step between them. We keep the Bernina bobbins right behind the register, so I take a 5-pack off the wall and remove 1 from the package and hand it to her.
"I told you to have 1 ready for me!"
"You called two minutes ago. . . . you got down here fast," I say, admittedly in a tone that was less than friendly.
"Where's my bobbin?”
I take the bobbin out of the pack, hand it over to her. . . .
"Real efficient operation you're running around here," she says, shaking her head in disgust.
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