The $99 diagnostic in St. Louis Park, reading by reading

The technician starts by listening. What the machine did, when it started and whether anything changed, such as a storm, a move or a new softener, all narrows the search. Next, access panels are removed and each suspect gets measured: a thermal fuse checked for continuity, a bake element read in ohms, an inlet valve coil tested for voltage, an oven igniter clamped for amperage. Each reading either clears a part or condemns it. When the visit wraps up, you have the name of the failed component, the likely reason it quit and a word on whether anything nearby looks tired. Stand in the doorway if you like; the technician is glad to turn the meter around so you can see the number that decided it.

The diagnostic costs $99, and that amount is not a separate fee stacked on the repair. The written price the technician hands you already has the $99 sitting inside it. Approve it, and that one number covers diagnosis and repair together, with nothing tacked on afterward. If the answer is no, $99 settles the account; the machine gets closed back up and you keep the diagnosis, explained in plain words. There is no pressure either way. Some people use the written price to choose between a repair and a new appliance, and the visit is just as useful for that decision.

We do not price repairs over the phone because symptoms overlap. Take a dishwasher holding gray water in its tub: the cause could be a filter matted with food, a pump impeller stopped by a cherry pit or a drain line pinched where the cabinet meets the wall, and those are very different jobs. Measuring first is the only way to write a price that holds. Sometimes a machine has simply reached its end, perhaps a rusted-through tub or refrigerant leaking from a sealed system; you hear that plainly, and the ticket reads $99. Should the maker’s warranty still apply, we point that out ahead of time so the maker can handle it. Special-order parts go in on a later trip, and that trip is never billed.