Who designs this $%!#
After putting together more baby items than I care to remember, I keep finding myself coming back to this same statement over and over. From the crib, to the stroller, from swing to pack-n-play, and even down to the simple mobile, I keep finding myself uttering the same mantra over and over.
It goes to show you that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Many times I’ve heard my Dad’s mantra when it comes to assembling item that are mass produced by “The Man”. Back when I was a kid, I thought he was just short tempered, but now I know exactly what it is. It’s not stress, naw that would be too simple to explain away. No, it’s something deeper, more sinister. I think I’ve finally found out what what makes us men so frustrated at instructions and assembling new items.
We’ve all been there, from Christmas toys, to baby stuff, to even working on automobiles. I think I can finally name it. Engineeritis. What is Engineeritis you say? Let me elaborate a bit.
Ever read the instructions on setting up a microwave? All that technical jargon. What about changing a spark plug on your car; your fingers never seem to be able to fit into those tight spaces. It’s everywhere. Thats Engineeitis. More simply, it’s that itchy, blood boiling, get out of my face feeling that overcomes us anytime we deal with the utter insanity of assembling store bought items. It’s just about the same feeling that we get right after we grittingly utter the words “I’m not lost Dear, I know exactly where I am. I just thought you might want to take the scenic view.”
But as I said, Engineeritis is more sinister. We may not hear the laughter, but it’s there. Every time some PhD Nothing engineer pens out the instructions to assembling a chair; he’s laughing. Laughing at us men out here in the world who have to decipher the instructions without looking like baboons in front of our families. Intertwining French, Spanish, and Japanese, all while thinking of the most scientific word he can to trip us up. Oh yea, he’s laughing all right; that evil maniacal laughter aimed at the “common man”.
So, In the spirit of all those real men out there who like to stick it to the man; let’s all chant together:
“Whoever designed this piece of {insert your own preferred explicative here} need to have it shoved so far up his {more explicatives; probably going to need two or three of them} that he needs a {mild explicative} technical manual, a {mild explicative} flashlight, a pair of {over the top explicative} pliers to get it out!”
