105 codes · 18 platforms
Three dishwasher schemes, five washer code families, dryer codes that change form with the control board, two induction families sharing no numbers. Every page here names its platform, because a code without one is not an answer.
Jump to a table
Type what the panel shows and the index will find it. If more than one row comes back, that is not a bug — the same string belongs to more than one table on this make, and the model code decides which is yours.
No code here matches that. Codes differ between series, and some are only shown on the service display — call (305) 363-1406 with the model number and what the display is doing.
7 kinds of machine on this badge publish no codes at all. If yours is one of them, the symptom pages are the honest place to start.
The finding that shapes this whole site
F10 is an overfill on a display dishwasher, a temperature stop on the Outdoor door, a full condensate tank on one dryer revision and an overfill again on a washer. Four machines, four tables, one string.
That is why there is no page here answering what F10 means on an Asko. There is no such question — only what F10 means on a particular platform, which is what each page answers.
What we will not publish
A decoded oven table runs from ERR1 to ERR15 with F85 at the end, and it matches none of the six oven manuals that were read. The two accessible sites carrying it share their wording closely enough to be one source rather than two.
It is recorded here as refused so that nobody adds it later thinking it was an oversight, and the builder that writes these pages will not accept any string from that list.
Before you look anything up
Or start from behavior
If nothing is displayed, or the machine does not print codes at all.
The program finishes and there is a pool in the sump. On this make the machine will tell you so in one of three unrelated ways depending on which generation is behind the panel — a printed number on the current display machines, a blink pattern on the legacy boards, and a colon-format string on the Outdoor door whose digits mean something else again. Underneath all three the machine is identical: a filter stack, a drain pump, a hose and whatever the sink end was connected to. Two of those four are free to check and they end this complaint more often than any part does.
The machine completes its program without complaint and the load is worse than when it went in. There is no code for this on any of the three generations, which people find unsettling and which is actually the useful fact: nothing has failed. Four ordinary things decide whether a dishwasher cleans on this water, and all four drift slowly enough that nobody notices until the difference is obvious — spray jets liming shut, a filter rinsed but never lifted, a hardness setting still on the number it left the factory with, and a detergent dose meant for softer water than South Florida has.
Water appearing at the toe kick, which on an integrated machine is almost never where the leak started — it tracks along the frame and comes out at the front. That single fact decides how this is handled: the panel comes off and the machine comes forward before anybody says where the water is from, because a good door seal gets replaced every day by somebody guessing from the front. On a legacy machine the base float may raise an overfill message while the tray fills, and that message is the machine protecting your floor rather than a separate problem.
A load that washes perfectly and comes out soaked. The useful split happens early and you can make it yourself: if the dishes are also cold, the machine is not heating and this is a heating problem with a part behind it; if they are hot and wet, the machine heated correctly and this is about how the moisture leaves. Those are different repairs at different prices, and on the turbo drying models there is a third possibility again, because those add a fan that can fail on its own.
Dead silence, and on an integrated machine the prime suspect is mechanical rather than electrical: is the door. A custom panel adds weight the hinge springs were set for on installation day, joinery settles over the years, and a door that looks perfectly shut can be sitting a millimeter proud of the switch that proves it. On the Outdoor machines there is even a message for it in as many words. After the door there is the supply, and then a control that is genuinely not responding — in that order, because that is the order of cost.
A cycle that has finished with the water still in it, and a machine that then refuses to spin — that refusal is deliberate rather than a second failure, because spinning a full drum would put the water on the floor. How the machine says so depends entirely on the panel: the display models print a number, the numbered-LED models a short code from an unrelated family, the analog ones a letter and a light, and the premium panels write out a sentence. Behind every one of them is the same short path from sump to standpipe, and the cheap end of it ends most of these.
Clothes heavy with water at the end of a program that otherwise ran normally. Three free things account for most of these and all three can be settled before anybody is called: the machine has not drained, the load will not balance, or the program chosen has no spin in it. What is left after those is genuinely mechanical — the door lock the machine will not spin without, the motor and its control, or the shock absorbers that have worn far enough that the drum moves more than the balance check will allow.
Water appearing under or beside the machine, and by the time it shows on the tile it has usually traveled along the frame from somewhere else. Three places account for nearly all of it: the door seal, where grit collects in the bottom fold and cuts the rubber from the inside over months; the pump filter cap, very often after somebody cleared a blockage and did not seat it; and the hose unions at the wall. In a condominium this matters further than the machine does, because water in a laundry closet reaches a floor slab and then somebody else's ceiling.
A finished program and a door that will not release, usually with a drum that still has water in it. Those two facts are connected: the lock stays engaged while there is water inside, which is the machine protecting the room rather than a failure. So the sequence that works is drain first, open second. Where the drum is genuinely empty and the door still will not release, the lock itself has failed — and on this make the premium panels say so in words while the numbered ones give a short code from whichever family that model belongs to.
A machine that has grown louder over months, or one that moves across the floor when it accelerates. Both are the suspension rather than the motor, and both are worth acting on early for a reason that has nothing to do with the noise: worn damping lets the drum travel further on every spin, and that travel is what eventually takes the drum bearing. A bearing is a day's strip-down. Shock absorbers are an afternoon. The gap between those two prices is the entire argument for calling while it is still only annoying.
A cycle that runs its full length and leaves the washing wet. On a condenser or heat pump machine — which is what this badge sells — this is almost never about heat, and that is the thing worth understanding before anybody is called. Nothing is being blown outside: moisture is condensed out of the air and collected, so the machine depends on three separate filters and a condenser staying clear. In a South Florida laundry closet those load far faster than any manual assumes, and clearing them ends this complaint more often than any part.
Nothing has failed and everything takes twice as long — the most gradual complaint on this machine and the one people put down to age. It is almost never age. A condenser dryer's cycle length is a direct measure of how well air moves through it, so a program that has quietly grown from ninety minutes to three hours is reporting a blocked path in the only language it has. There is a limit built in at two hundred minutes, and every dryer platform on this badge has a code for hitting it, under a different name on each revision.
The machine behaves normally in every way except the one that matters. On a condenser machine this splits into a heater and its thermostats; on a heat pump machine it is a sealed refrigeration circuit and the answer is a different order of expense entirely. Which one you have is therefore the first question, and it is answered by the model rather than by the symptom. Before either, though, the same free checks apply: a machine that cannot move air will trip its own thermal protection and then run cold, and that is not a heater problem at all.
A container that needs emptying far more often than it used to, or one that reports itself full when it is not. Both are worth understanding because the first is frequently not a problem at all: a condenser dryer takes every drop out of the washing, so a heavier load, a wetter spin or a more humid room all mean genuinely more water. What is a problem is a machine that reports full with an empty container — that is the microswitch — or one plumbed to a drain that has stopped clearing.
A machine that does nothing at all, and as with the dishwasher the first suspect is the door rather than the electronics: a dryer will not run with the door unlatched, and a catch that has worn is the most ordinary explanation there is. After that comes the container, because a machine reporting itself full stops before it starts, and only then the supply and the control. That order matters because it runs from free to expensive, and most of these calls end in the first two.
An oven that stays cold, or one that heats on some functions and not others. The display will not help here and that is a documented fact rather than an omission: six oven manuals across several generations print an undecoded ErrXX and the same instruction to power-cycle and call somebody. So the reading is conventional and the single most useful thing anybody can supply is which functions still produce heat. A grill working while the bake element does nothing cuts the diagnosis in half before anybody arrives.
Everything works and nothing is right. One complaint here carries two unrelated problems behind it, each with its own repair: an oven whose sensor now reads a few degrees out, which is accuracy, and an oven perfectly accurate at its own sensor while being wildly uneven inside, which is airflow or a door seal. No amount of calibration fixes the second, which is why the cavity gets mapped with a probe at several positions rather than read once in the middle.
A single dead zone on an induction hob is better news than it sounds: the problem is usually local to that zone's coil or to its section of the generator board, which leaves the supply and the main control out of it. Two things produce an identical symptom for nothing and both are checked first — a pan without a ferromagnetic base, settled by a magnet in two seconds, and a lock or child-safety state that looks exactly like a failure from the front.
Everything about the appliance suggests it is alive, and the contents say otherwise. This make prints no code for it — refrigeration here was documented with symptom tables and nothing else — so a blank display is the normal state and proves nothing either way. What does carry information is the pattern: which side has gone wrong, whether the compressor is turning over, how much heat comes off the back, and where the frost has settled. One thing is checked ahead of all of that, because in this climate it is the likeliest single cause and it costs nothing: whether the machine can still draw air through its grille.
Ice building under the drawers, or water appearing on the floor of the cabinetry, and on an integrated appliance the second usually arrives before anybody has seen the first. It is one of the few things genuinely worth trying yourself, and we would rather say how than sell a visit for it: the defrost drain channel at the back of the compartment blocks with debris and refreezes, and warm water down it clears most of them. What brings us out is the one that comes back within a fortnight, because that is the drain heater or the path itself rather than a blockage.
A cabinet that runs and runs and still will not hold temperature. In this county that has to be separated from a cabinet losing an argument with the room around it, because a freezer in an unconditioned garage or utility room in August is being asked to work far outside its specification and may be perfectly healthy. Telling those two apart is most of the visit, and there is no code on this make to help: the manuals carry problem, cause and solution rows and nothing else.
A hood that sounds like it is working and is not clearing anything. Nine times in ten the duct is to blame rather than the appliance, and the test that proves it takes a minute at the outside vent. On this coast there is a fifth cause the manuals never mention because the manuals mention nothing at all — three hood manuals were read and none of them carries a troubleshooting section — and that is a backdraft damper salted shut, which stops extraction completely while the hood carries on making its usual noise.
Lamps lit and the motor silent, which is more useful than it sounds: on almost every hood the lamps and the motor sit on different circuits after the switch, so lights working proves the supply is fine and points the whole diagnosis away from it. What is left is the switch or touch strip, the motor and its capacitor. On the concealed liners this make is known for, the touch strip is the common failure in a kitchen where the hood is wiped down every day.
A built-in combination cavity that lights up, turns and does nothing to the food. It splits into two questions quickly because the convection side and the microwave side fail independently: if convection heats and microwave does not, the door interlocks and the magnetron circuit are where to look, and the interlocks are far more common because they are wear parts. If neither heats, the supply and the main board come first. A cup of water for sixty seconds settles which of the two you have before anybody drives over.
Worth saying
Ovens and microwaves show a string their manuals never decode. Hoods have no troubleshooting section at all. Refrigeration, freezers and ranges are documented with symptom tables and no numbers.
Each of those was read on a page of a manual rather than assumed from a blank display, and that is the difference between this site and one that fills the gap with a table.
Before you book
Tell us the appliance and the model and the answer is straightforward. Without them there are four different answers on this badge and no way to choose between them — which is exactly why every page here carries its platform.
Either it belongs to a revision we have not documented, or nothing published decodes it. The dishwasher numbers between F13 and F39 are the clearest example: they are in no consumer manual anywhere and are almost certainly internal. We would rather leave a gap than fill it.
That is the oven or the microwave, and there is no table behind it. Six oven manuals and four microwave manuals print the same generic line and no meanings. Do the reset the manual asks for, then note the digits, the model and what the machine was doing.
In more detail
Every code here was read off a manufacturer manual — model, page and source recorded against each line. Nothing is inferred from a naming pattern and nothing is carried across from a sister platform because the numbers look similar.
18 entries here are signals rather than codes: a display showing something the maker never decodes, or a warning symbol with no meaning table behind it. They are published as what they are, with the sentence the manual actually prints.
Tell us what the machine is doing and the model code off its door edge, and we will say which page you are on. Where a diagnostic is the right next step it is from $95, credited toward the repair.
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