The blade assembly of our two-ish year old blender got broken at some point in the last two months. Most likely, I would assume, in the move. The dome-shaped plastic bit that holds the blade at the top has a big crack in it. So liquids just seep out the bottom of the jar. Not so good for blending. Now, we have a two food processors — both a regular ol’ Cuisinart and a teeny-tiny KitchenAid (for the way it’s made), so I’ve been getting by. But I wanted to make salsa Mexicana the other night and as I limped through the task with the tiny KitchenAid processor, I decided that salsa Mexicana is a blender job. So today, in between waiting for clients to email me, talking to Lamont on the phone and staring at the wall, I decided to order a new blade.

“How can I help you?” asks the operator. I explain my situation to him and he says that sure, he can order one of those. A few moments later he informs me that it will be $18.70.

“Well,” I say, “that seems a bit steep since we only paid about $30 for the blender. So why don’t I think about it and call you guys back.”

“Would you like me to see if I can get it at a cheaper price?”

“Well… yeah. Sure.” And I go on hold for a few minutes. He returns and informs me that he can get the blade for $16.50. “Eh, let me talk to my girlfriend and see what she says,” I say.

“Oh. Wait. I just got another chat from my supervisor. I can give it to you for $13.01.”

“Does that include shipping?” I ask.

So the moral of the story is that haggling can often get you a better price, even in places that you wouldn’t really think there was any sort of price flexibility. Hemming and/or hawing in lieu of haggling may also work. And in ten to fourteen business days? My ass is going to have a working blender again. USA!