There’s a basic law of nature that immediately goes into effect whenever an unhandy person foolishly decides to become “handy”. It is a survival-of-the-fittest notion that is unerring in its aim, striking the unhandy down with cunning precision. Frankly, it’s a wonder that unhandy people have managed to survive this long, although unfortunately, like fools, there is one born every minute.
The unhandy person can be certain that at some critical juncture in any home fix-it project or repair on the family car, one or all of the following are certain to happen:
a.) a crucial piece will break off in your hand and the project will be stymied,
b.) something will fall where it can’t be reached,
c.) you won’t have the correct tool, (or more likely, your tools won’t work)
d.) you will have the wrong part… or the right part won’t fit,
e.) you will take the Lord’s name in vain and be struck by lightening, or
f.) you will pull your back out of place and end up laying on the couch.
My point being: Why on Earth did you get off the couch in the first place?
• • •
I am unhandy. I should probably not admit to it but it is so blatantly obvious that it would be apparent to all but the equally unhandy. I DO know my way around the business end of bonsai clippers, tennis racquets, drawing pens, magnifying loupes and harmonicas… but when it comes to machinery and tools I am woefully inept.
Despite knowing all of this, I continue to allow myself to be forced by wife, pride and poverty into continuing to prove how inept I truly am. Against my better judgment, every now and then I tentatively shoulder my rusty tools and soldier into action. My service to the world is what I refer to as a “Jeff Job”.
• A Jeff Job means that I will measure something to the 1/64 of an inch, do a scale drawing, and then cut it to perfection. It will not fit.
• A Jeff Job means that I’ll decide to change my car’s whozits-whatever but end up stripping the threads using improper tools and having to call AAA to come and tow it to a real mechanic.
• A Jeff Job means saving myself $500 on a workman but ending up with a $1000 Emergency Room bill.
• A Jeff Job really just means calling the broken whozits-whatzit a “Mo’ frickin’ piece of s***", kicking it squarely, kicking it again, KICKING IT AGAIN, KICKING IT AGAIN, and then leaving it to sit there on the floor by itself to think it over.
Maybe next time the stupid thing will spend a little more time thinking through the consequences before deciding that it needs to be fixed.