by Dr Rahim Said
If you live in a condominium, allow me to offer you a word of caution — be very, very sure about who services your air-conditioning system.
Or better yet, consider investing in a good old-fashioned tikar mengkuang, a sturdy ceiling fan, and maybe a mosquito net. I say this after surviving what felt like a modern urban ordeal worthy of a long-running miniseries like Sex in the City.
It all started three weeks ago when our Japanese-made air-conditioning unit gave up on us during what could only be described as Malaysia’s annual season of blistering humidity. Being responsible city folks, we did what any sane person would: we called the company concerned, the same outfit that also makes tough 4X4 cars for our rough terrain.
Except, as it turned out, our air-conditioner wasn’t one of those cute little split-unit systems you find hanging on bedroom walls. No, this was an industrial model. Heavy-duty.
It was a condo developer special with one large compressor outside our bathroom servicing three blowers in bedrooms and the living room. Which meant we had to deal with their industrial division, a whole different universe.
The technician who first came was polite enough. He opened the unit, shook his head meaningfully, and said he needed his computer to diagnose it. I’m not sure what the initial visit achieved except to confirm that, yes, the air was still warm.
Over the next few days, he replaced some parts, fiddled with copper pipes, mumbled about blockages, and charged gas. Still no cool air. At the end of the week, he solemnly declared that our outdoor PCB board was the culprit. The part wasn’t in stock, but if we transferred RM2,930 — not to the company concerned, mind you — but he would procure it.
Desperate for cool air and rational thought melting away in the heat, we agreed.
He returned with the part, fitted it, and… nothing. The machine stubbornly refused to cooperate.
Finally, a senior team from the air-conditioning company was dispatched. Turns out, the only thing wrong was a faulty sensor. The senior technician quietly told us the previous guy was no longer with the company — he was a split-unit guy, not certified for industrial systems.
They replaced the sensor. The air blew cold. The RM2,930 PCB board — perfectly fine, mind you — was returned to me with a cheerful “keep it for future use.” It’s now sitting in my bedroom, a monument to modern inefficiency.
That night, just as we dared to celebrate, the unit blinked an ominous red light: E36 error. Again. Another call. Another technician. Another temporary fix. The original mechanic returned plastered the wall shut, gave us two numbers to call other than his, and vanished.
By now, it’s been three weeks without reliable air-conditioning. I find myself yearning for my kampung childhood — back when air flowed through wooden awnings, and sleep came easily under a mosquito net. No E36 errors, no missing technicians, and definitely no RM2,930 spare parts gathering dust.
Consider this your gentle warning: if your condo air-conditioning breaks down, brace yourself. In the battle between man and machine, it’s always the technician who wins.
You’ll be left holding the spare parts.
WE