Some Assembly Required
By Chris Coray, The Unmuddled Mathematician
Containers often come with labels. It used to be the case that bottles
containing dangerous substances, like poisons for potguts, had a skull and
crossbones warning on the outside.
Nuclear material has a clear and descriptive logo. These
symbols help in handling and storage.
These warnings, however, pale compared to the apparently undramatic
wording that shows up on many otherwise unmarked boxes. Beware, beware, beware any package that
contains in small letters “Made in China” and in somewhat larger print the
phrase “Some Assembly Required”.
Many, many years ago a neighbor of mine had to be travelling
at Christmas. His wife asked a friend of
mine and me if we might be able to come over late on Christmas Eve and put
together a few toys. This family had a
lot of kids. But sure, late on December
24, after all the children were asleep my friend Don and I gently knocked on
the door and were admitted to assist in assembly. Let’s say it was after 10 p.m. (it was). Just about 3 a.m. we finished the tasks,
having assembled more objects than I can count.
We saw Santa on his return flight.
It’s a good thing that we both own a lot of tools and that there were
two of us. Remembering our efforts with
the instructions accompanying the toys, instructions that were converted
from Chinese to English, I am still looking to organize and have a giant
bonfire of “Big Wheels”. I used the
word converted because the instructions, if accurate, were most
definitely not “translated into English”. China is killing this country by sending us
object after object that require “Some Assembly”. There
are a couple of points to be made at this time.
First, the instructions are always more ambiguous and less
understandable than the hardest math I ever studied. Second, if the object is eventually and
finally assembled in say, ten hours, a second one could be done in about 30
minutes. The converted instructions are
almost worse than no instructions at all.
Part of the Chinese plot. It’s
the first time through the experience that is nearly fatal. But as most of us do this kind of assembly
only once, huge chunks of time are consumed by the first time effort. Our lives are shortened.
It should be noted that sometimes a “tool” is contained in
the box. It is always complete junk and
should be reduced to pot metal and molded into a fishing lure as soon as
possible. No self respecting fish would
have anything to do with it, but I feel better trying to drown this inanimate,
remolded “tool”.
A very recent experience may serve as a specific example of
this pandemic. Every piece of the
following story is precisely true. It
began innocently enough, with my dear wife deciding a couple of months ago that
my computer desk was of a color that did not match the other furniture in our
shared office. Sunlight and other
factors had made it a little lighter in color.
Did this matter to me? No. Did my feelings, if I had any, matter? Likewise, no.
She ordered a new computer desk of the “proper” color. I had a bad feeling about this but a man has
to do what a man has to do (just ask his wife).
Eventually the phone rang and some guy said he had a couple of boxes
down by the gas station and he didn’t want to drive up the hill to our
house. Would I please come and get
them? OK. When I got to the coward’s driver’s
truck we off loaded two boxes into my pickup.
The ultimate warning words referred to above were clearly present. So were some others, as in weight, 60 and 50. It turns out that these numbers were in kilograms,
not pounds, so the weights were 132 and 110 lbs, respectively. The boxes were also marked with the words
“Heavy” and “Use two men to lift”.
Right.
When I got to the house I
keenly observed that there were not two men present and I am not about to harm
my wife’s surgically repaired back.
Somehow I muscled the boxes into the house.
Using a week to build up my courage (if I were a drinking
man I might have gone that route) I eventually opened the boxes. In one was a 24 page set of
instructions. Also present was a large
bag of parts. The main wood pieces were
also contained but it was the parts bag that was terrifying. There was a main bag which itself contained
17 (exactly) smaller bags. The
instructions indicated that each smaller bag was clearly marked with a sticker
using letters in the alphabet. However,
the sticky stuff was not worth spit so all the stickers had fallen off and were
in the bottom of the big bag like Scrabble letters. I could not find a dose of arsenic to take on
the spot so I just left everything alone for a few more days. Maybe it would all disappear like the monster
in a nightmare. It didn’t. Surrendering to the inevitable I got out my
18 volt cordless drill/screwdriver, my large rubber hammer, 3 hand
screwdrivers, an array of bits, and set to work. Two steps forward, one back.
Limiting myself to 6 hours per day I
eventually got this object assembled in 3 days, with only 12 parts left over. Two friends (I hope they are still friends)
finally helped me move the old desk out and the new one into place. With nearly euphoric joy I gathered up all
the boxes, foam, empty bags, instructions, and with malice carried them to a
dumpster. For the record, there are 228
individual pieces in this desk. Please
stop by and check it out. Do not listen
to my wife if she says this was easy and anyone could and should go the same
route.
And always be afraid, very afraid, of the phrase “Some
Assembly Required”. What follows those
words is the phrase, in disappearing ink, “With any luck this will kill you”.
