Mechanical Man

I can’t do shit.  If I were left in the wild or even just lived in a place without ordinary conveniences, I couldn’t survive longer than it takes Donald Trump to tell another lie. I always knew this, but it was driven home to me all the more over the past few days.

First, a guy came to inspect our heater.  It was a regular inspection.  The thing had been working ok.  I was proud that I was able to show him where the heater was. But, then the trouble started. He told me that we had to get a new one. To prove this, he showed me where the pilot light (I think that’s what it was) was working improperly.  It was dangerous, he told me.  I had no idea if he was shitting me. I considered getting a second opinion, but what good would that do? I wouldn’t know what that guy was talking about either. So, now a new heater is on its way.

While we waited for delivery, we were in a cold house.  We put space heaters in a few of the rooms. Even this wasn’t easy for me.  The first one I tried didn’t turn on.  Well, it didn’t turn on for me. A red light went on by the power button when I plugged it in, but nothing happened. Helpless, I waited and pushed all the other buttons. Still nothing. As accustomed as I am to giving up at this stage, I gave up. I waited a few minutes. Still nothing. I decided to turn the heater off. I pushed the power button again.  It went on.  Who knew you actually have to push the power button to get power?

Things went well until the next morning.  I was in my home office to do some work, so I put a space heater in that room.  About ten minutes later, the power went off in that room and the one next to it where another heater was. My wife, who is much better at this stuff than I am (then again, almost everybody is) said we should check the fuse box. I actually knew where that was so I did what she said.  I noticed that one of the fuse switches was not “on.” It was in the middle position. I tried to move it over to the “on” position, but it wouldn’t go.  This was as far as I could go, so, time to call an electrician.  

That makes a heating contractor and an electrician both within 24 hours.

The electrician arrived. We both went to the fuse box. “Oh, he said, “you tripped this fuse.” 

“I know,” I answered, “but I can’t turn it back on.”

Then, of course, he turned it back on.  Apparently, you need to turn it all the way off first.  I didn’t look at him at this point, but I can only assume what kind of a look he gave me.

It wasn’t over with the electrician.  I asked him to fix the outlet in one of the bathrooms.  I had been unable for months to plug anything into it.  Of course, he plugged something in.  Apparently, it’s the kind of outlet that requires a special jiggle of the prongs before insertion.  My pre-insertion jiggle wasn’t working (not the first time).

Finally, before he left, I noticed that the modem in my home office was still not lit. I asked him to look at it. As you may have guessed, he discovered that it was unplugged.

Anthropologists say that division of labor within our species didn’t begin for thousands of years. Before that, everyone could do everything they needed to do to survive. They had to.  We’ve now evolved into a world of specialization where our skills are split into an infinite number of categories.  I, for example, spent most of my professional life practicing gaming law. 

So, while I suck at the essential stuff, like keeping me warm and comfortable, I can write a hell of a casino regulation.  Good for me?