The Cost of Trusting the Wrong Fixer

Dec 13 , 2025. By Kidist Yidnekachew ( Kidist Yidnekachew is interested in art, human nature and behaviour. She has studied psychology, journalism and communications and can be reached at (kaymina21@gmail.com) )

Informal repair services often rely on confidence rather than proven skill, leaving customers vulnerable to poor workmanship. In this case, a routine umbrella fix expanded into appliance repairs the fixer could not deliver. The work appeared sound initially but failed within hours, revealing the gap between promised expertise and actual ability. The repairman’s disappearance deepened that distrust. The incident highlights how a single bad actor erodes confidence in an entire trade.

I honestly don’t know when I’ll stop giving people the benefit of the doubt, but at this point, I’m hanging by a thin thread. You’ve seen those young men roaming the streets, usually in a cap or bare-headed under the midday sun, calling out “Tila… tila!” They carry a bag and a small toolbox, walking the whole day hoping someone will trust them, the way I did, and ask them to repair umbrellas, single electric plate stoves, or electric kettles. I dislike using blanket statements, and I’m not saying every one of them is the same, but I’d be a fool to trust any of them again with anything beyond an umbrella.

Here’s what happened. I had a small pile of broken umbrellas, so when I met one of these men on the road, I was relieved. I brought him home to fix them. Since I’m naturally curious, I asked what else he could repair. He answered with confidence: single electric plate stoves, electric kettles, even a coffee grinder. I’m talking about the mini-single electric plate stoves everyone seems to own. Plenty of people have learned how to fix them over time. It often comes down to connecting the right wires, even if it isn’t as simple as it sounds. These items, the single electric plate stove and the kettle, had been repaired before, worked for a while, and then died again. I told him this, and he brushed it off. “No problem, I can do it.” So I watched him. At first, he looked like he knew what he was doing.

He fixed the umbrellas perfectly. Then he moved on to the mini-single electric plate stove. When he finally handed it over for a test, I plugged it in and the light went out as the breaker tripped. My neighbour had already suspected a wiring problem and had advised me to warn the repairman. When I told him, he insisted the switch on the stove was the issue. He proposed replacing the switch with one from an old stove I had lying around. That should have been my warning. That should have been the moment I said, “Thanks for the umbrellas. Let’s stop there.” But no. I felt bad. He was trying so hard, and I chose to trust him. “Go ahead,” I told him. I mentioned I’d save his number and call him if the stove failed within a day. He agreed. “You can check.”

The kettle inspection followed the same pattern. I plugged it in, the light came on, and he assured me the connection was “direct.” I was cautious, so I checked it twice by heating water I poured inside. Satisfied for the moment, I paid him.

Later that evening, I plugged in the single electric plate stove. It worked. I was thrilled. A few hours later, I heard a pop, and the wires shorted again, tripping the breaker. I was furious. I had hoped it would last at least a week. I tried calling him, but his phone was off. I told myself I’d try the next day. The following morning, I plugged in the kettle, and it failed too. I dialled his number repeatedly; still off. Two full days now. I never expected him to vanish like that. When I told my friend, she stared at me. “Why are you surprised? This is common,” she said. “Many pretend they know what they’re doing. Take this as your lesson: don’t trust them with anything outside umbrellas.”

The most annoying part wasn’t even the broken appliances. It was that he knowingly gave me a fake number because he understood what he fixed wasn’t going to last. I had little hope the stove and kettle could be properly repaired, but he was the one who kept reassuring me he could get it done. And this isn’t just about the umbrella guys, even if the scamming part is less frequent. The wider issue is people pretending to be professionals when they’re not. I’ve seen it too many times: plumbers acting like electricians because they once watched someone rewire something. They show up, swear they can fix an electrical problem with their tiny bit of knowledge, and within days, or hours, you’re back where you started.

Why can’t people specialise in what they actually know? It’s like a general doctor attempting a complex surgery. If you’re a plumber, stick to plumbing. Don’t start rewiring a house because you can replace a lightbulb. The irony is unreal. People who genuinely have expertise often lack the confidence to charge what they deserve, while those who know virtually nothing walk around full of confidence and empty promises.

My experience with the umbrella guy, and others like him, is more than a simple inconvenience; it’s a small fracture in the foundation of trust. My message to people who operate this way is straightforward: don’t give us more reasons to doubt. Don’t ruin it for the honest ones. There are plenty of hardworking men in this line of work who stick to what they know, whether it’s repairing umbrellas or shining shoes. When someone takes money for a poor, temporary fix and disappears, they don’t just scam one person. They cast suspicion on everyone else in that trade. They stain the reputation of honest workers and make earning a living harder for them.

We all want to believe in good intentions, but when that belief leaves you with a ruined appliance and a phone number that never connects, the next time someone calls out “Tila… tila,” we’ll hesitate before giving them a chance.

PUBLISHED ON Dec 13,2025 [ VOL 26 , NO 1337]