Collected печку. It needs to be tested, repaired where it’s broken — basically prepared for resale as used. This oven is really someone’s affordable ticket to the business class. It’s already worn out, and the main customer has used it to its full capacity, but essentially, it’s a piece of equipment that doesn’t have much to break. And if something does break, it can be fixed by hand. You can cook almost anything in it. Well, except for sponge cakes and some types of bread. You can bake pizza, meat, baguettes, roasts — pretty much everything. At the same time, it operates continuously, and the task is simply to place the raw dish on the conveyor from one side and pick up the finished product from the other. You can also insert something into the window inside the conveyor. You can adjust the temperature and the speed of the food movement (from 30 seconds to half an hour in the oven).
I turn it on — the upper floor is working. The lower one isn’t. The conveyor on the upper floor is still jerking. Okay. I stop it, take apart the conveyor drive, find a broken part, look for a new one in the warehouse, replace it — the conveyor runs smoothly. A few more small adjustments here and there. Tighten something up, fix something else. The heater is working fine.
The lower part is silent as a partisan. I’m taking it apart, looking for the problem. I find it. The limit switch that protects against an idiot opening the cover, under which there’s a fan with blades, a belt drive, and 220 volts, is broken. The irony is that I opened this cover myself and am searching for the problem. If there hadn’t been a switch, no one would have opened the cover. I replaced the switch — everything works. Gas automation, temperature control, cooling after shutdown.
Someone will build their life on this stove. And in the evening, they will quietly curse that it has non-metric threads instead of metric ones.