It started with a clicking noise in the breakroom. Tuesday, 7:40 a.m., and the Bosch ice maker behind the kitchen door was chugging like a clogged espresso machine.
I reset it. It made ice by noon. Thursday, same noise. Friday, I found a small puddle on the counter. That’s when I typed the phrase I never expected to use: “bosch ice maker not working”.
I manage purchasing for a 40-person firm. That means I’m the person who orders everything from coffee filters to under sink water heaters. I also get to be the one who explains why the warranty doesn’t cover “we ignored the filter for two years.”
When the ice maker failed, my first instinct was to call the appliance company we’d used for years. Service fee, if I remember correctly, was $140. Maybe $160—I’d have to check the invoice. The first tech looked at the unit for less than 10 minutes and said “the control board needs replacement.” $420 plus parts.
My gut said that wasn’t right. The numbers in my head said “this is a 3-year-old Bosch, not a 10-year-old no-name box.” I told him I wanted a second opinion. He wasn’t happy, but he left.
The second tech asked a simple question: “When did you last replace the water filter?” I didn’t know there was a water filter. It’s in the manual, which, if I’m honest, I’d never read. He replaced the filter, ran the water line, and the ice maker cycled like it was brand new. The “broken” control board was fine. It was low water pressure because the filter was clogged. A $12 fix. The real lesson: before you replace an expensive part, rule out the cheap causes.
Oh, and the original quote? It had no diagnosis fee, no part inspection, nothing. Just “control board.” I do not think the first tech was trying to rip me off. But the quote wasn’t transparent, and that’s a red flag in any industry.
The Bosch manual says to replace the ice maker water filter about every six months. We now have a calendar reminder. If you’re reading this because your Bosch ice maker not working is a current problem, start there. Filter first. Then water supply. Then the control board. The control board is almost never the first thing to check.
That same winter, our maintenance guy asked for a point-of-use water heater under the north breakroom sink. We had a commercial coffee station and no hot water for cleanup. I compared a few options. One quote looked great: $760 for “parts and labor” on a Bosch under sink water heater. Another came in at $1,100 “turnkey.”
Every spreadsheet analysis pointed to the $760 quote. Something felt off about the plumber’s response time, but I liked the price. Then I called to schedule, and the dispatcher mentioned that the quote didn’t include an expansion tank. “Oh, and the permit is extra.”
I asked the rule-based question I now use everywhere: “What is NOT included?” The answer: expansion tank ($185), permit ($60), and haul-away of the old unit ($35). Total: $1,040. The $1,100 quote wasn’t inflated—it just showed the real number up front.
“I’ve learned to ask ’what’s NOT included‘ before ’what’s the price.’”
We went with the Bosch under sink water heater anyway, because the specs matched what we needed. Even after ordering, I kept second-guessing. What if the cheaper brand with a higher gallon-per-hour rating would have been better? The two weeks until delivery were stressful in a “did I just spend too much” way. Once it was installed, the temperature held steady, and the “no hot water at the coffee sink” complaints disappeared. That’s the satisfying part.
I should add that local code in our area requires an expansion tank on any closed water supply. That’s not a sales tactic; it’s how you keep a relief valve from weeping into the cabinet. The lower quote didn’t hide the fee—it just didn’t mention it. Those are different things, but the result is the same: I cannot evaluate a price unless I know what it includes.
The same winter, we started a small meal-prep program for the team. I ordered an upright deep freezer for the storage room. The numbers looked great: a 7.2 cubic foot unit, on sale, with good reviews. My gut said measure the doorway. I didn’t. The delivery crew got it up the stairs, through the first door, and then stopped. The second doorway was exactly the width of the box. The unit itself would have fit by maybe half an inch. The shipping box did not.
We got it inside after removing the door, the hinges, and one side of the shelf unit. I still kick myself for not measuring before buying. It was a 30-minute job, but it made me look exactly as unprepared as I was.
The deep freezer itself, once installed, has been fine. It’s set to 0°F, because the USDA point is that food frozen at 0°F stays safe indefinitely—quality may drop, but safety doesn’t. That’s a detail people forget when they shop for freezers.
In February, a facilities coordinator asked me to buy two “buddy heater” units for the loading dock. I assumed it was the same as shopping for a space heater. Then I read the manual because a coworker asked whether it was safe indoors.
The Buddy Heater is a propane radiant heater. The small Mr. Heater Buddy has an oxygen depletion sensor and low-oxygen shutoff, which makes it safer than a lot of unvented propane options. But the manual is specific: it’s for temporary heating of well-ventilated areas. You don’t run it for hours in a sealed room. You don’t leave it unattended. And you keep a CO alarm nearby.
We bought one for emergency use on the loading dock, plus a carbon monoxide alarm. It’s in a locked cabinet, and I put a short training sheet next to it. That’s not overthinking. The people who get hurt by heaters are the ones who assume “indoor-safe” means “zero-common-sense-safe.”
I could say we use Bosch for all our lasting equipment and a Buddy Heater for emergencies. That would be a neat story. But it’s more useful to say: read the manual, ask what it excludes, and don’t let a low price make the decision for you.
Then came the jar debate. A volunteer who brings soup in Mason jars asked, “are Mason jars freezer safe?” I was sure the answer was yes, because people freeze in jars all the time. Then I looked at the Ball guide and found the nuance.
Yes, Mason jars are freezer safe if you use the right shape and fill them with proper headspace. Straight-sided jars are better than shouldered jars because freezing liquid expands and sharp shoulders concentrate the stress. Leave at least an inch of headspace in a quart jar. Thaw in the fridge, not in hot water or a microwave.
We found this out after a jar cracked in the utility freezer one night. The soup was salvageable; the glass shards were not. I ordered a case of straight-sided jars and put a one-page guide next to the freezer: “Straight side. Headspace. Thaw cold.” It feels ridiculously simple, but the jar that broke was the reason the guide exists.
Looking back, the winter wasn’t about any one product. It was about the questions I didn’t ask:
I still buy Bosch equipment for the things we need to last. The Bosch under sink water heater has been running for eight months without a hiccup, and the ice maker problem was a $12 filter. But I don’t expect any appliance to be perfect forever—that’s not how reliability works. I just want the price, the risk, and the maintenance schedule to be visible before I commit. That’s the real lesson.
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