My wife, Cindy, is constantly on my butt about why I ‘have to do everything the hard way’. She’s not entirely wrong but, I don’t set out to do things the hard way, it just ends up that way even when I try to do it the easy way.
I grow weary of hearing, “You know there’s an easier way to do that?” Of course there’s an easier way! In fact, every other way rather than the way I’m doing it is an easier way! Which reminds me of an incident that ends with a bunch of people running around screaming, shirts and hairdos on fire and me, waving a flaming spatula at Cindy, yelling, “See! This is why I do things the hard way!” A real nightmare!
Cindy’s 40th birthday was coming up and I had planned a surprise party for her… because, who doesn’t love surprises? Well, Cindy, that’s who! She asked point-blank, “You’re not planning on throwing me a surprise party are you? I hate surprises!”
I wouldn’t lie to her so my ‘honest’ reply was, “Why the hell would I throw you a surprise party when I know you hate surprises?” Because truly, why IN THE HELL WOULD I? It would have been so much easier just to tell her there was going to be a party and ask that she act surprised?
Invitations were already sent, everyone said they were coming, expecting alcohol and barbequed tri-tip; per the invitation. One problem, I had no BBQ to BBQ the tri-tip. So with little time to spare, while Cindy was at work the night before her surprise party, I had to make an emergency run to Home Depot to get a BBQ.
I planned on buying a small one to get through the party, just big enough for three large trip-tip. But once inside, I became mesmerized by the sea of barbeques on display enticing me with signs advertising their amazing capabilities. ‘Holy crap! You can bake a cake in this one!’. Have to admit, a cake baking BBQ is intriguing; I’m sold!
“You know you can bake a cake on that one?”, an enthusiastic voice said from behind.
“I see that,….. Jerry.” reading his Home Depot apron. “But I just need a small one, and I’m kind of in a rush.”
“It has a work station on one side and a side burner on the other… so you can cook stuff in a pan or a pot.”, Jerry said, continuing his sales pitch.
“Yeah Jerry, I saw that. Back to this tiny one that’s a quarter of the price.” I retorted like I was haggling in a Marrakech market-bizarre or something.
Jerry: “Well that one might work for you today but probably not tomorrow.”
Me: “Wait, what do you know about tomorrow? It’s supposed to be a surprise.. Oh, you mean, like, my future needs and all?” What I didn’t tell Jerry was that I had already decided on the cake-baking, side-burner, extra-large BBQ with a work station. I admit, I was bedazzled by the BBQ’s cardboard display. I also wanted to make Jerry feel better, like he actually sealed the deal on the BBQ. Poor Jerry, he was about to regret ever meeting me much less selling me a BBQ.
My engagement with Jerry took longer than expected. The clock was ticking, I had to get this home if I was going to get it assembled that night……unless…. (This was, what I thought, going to be a pinnacle moment for me, to do something the easy way) …
“Say, Jerry, I’m kind of strapped for time and your sales pitch to get me to buy this amazing BBQ took more time than I had to spare. Would you be willing to sell me the floor model?”
Jerry immediately seemed uncomfortable with that, his head slumped, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Mmmmm, I don’t think so, we have plenty of these in stock.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Jerry, I didn’t even think to ask if it was against store policy.”, I responded with a tone of false shame sprinkled in.
Reluctantly he replied, “It’s not.”
“Oh, why can’t I have this one then?”, I exclaimed with real excitement.
Jerry blurted, “Uh, because if you buy that one I have to unbox another one and put it together and they’re a pain in the butt to assemble.”
“I know, Jerry, that’s why I want this one.”, I said, looking at my watch to remind Jerry in a passive-aggressive way that time is of the essence and speaking of time, I still had enough to change my mind and get the smaller, cheaper one.
Jerry deflated, quite literally, letting out an audible, ‘Pshshshshshshsh’ as his head and shoulders drooped forward. We both realized Jerry would be spending the rest of his shift assembling another cake-baking BBQ. “You’ll need a propane tank, we sell them up front. I’ll…roll this up there while you pay.”, Jerry said.
‘Cindy would be so proud of me.’, I thought. But, Cindy would also not have been surprised by what was about to happen; which was a good thing since she hates surprises.
I paid for the BBQ and tank just as Jerry wheeled my one-piece, cake-baking BBQ to the checkout. He didn’t make eye contact, just dropped the BBQ and began to walk away. Poor Jerry didn’t get too far. The young lady working the checkout asked if I would like assistance getting my BBQ into my vehicle. Although not necessarily heavy, once completely assembled the BBQ is awkward to lift so I said, “Yes! Thank you!”
Jerry stopped mid step, threw his head back and spun around to face me, slowly lowering his head. Jerry didn’t look happy. Maybe I could change his mood…and I did, for the worse.
I grabbed my tank and Jerry wheeled my fully assembled cake-baking BBQ into the parking lot. I escorted him down a parking aisle and saw Jerry slowing and veering towards the truck. Now, when I say ‘the truck’ what I mean is, it’s the only truck in this parking aisle, but it isn’t mine. “No, Jerry, mine’s the blue car.”
When I say the ‘blue car’ I mean it’s a Mazda Protégé; a four-door sub-compact sedan. If you’re looking for something smaller it would be behind a clear plastic bubble attached to a smartly colored blue, red and yellow piece of cardboard emblazoned with the ‘Hot Wheels’® logo.
Jerry must have been clairvoyant because, based on his grumbling, he saw what was coming long before I did. I opened the trunk, which although spacious, was not spacious enough for my cake-baking, one-piece BBQ. In fact, there wasn’t an orifice on this car large enough to squeeze in a two-slot toaster much less my fully assembled BBQ.
Jerry let out an irritating sound of, ‘grrrrraaaahhh’ letting me know he was irritated but quickly calmed realizing he was responsible for selling me this BBQ; “Yeah Jerry, this is your fault!”
I inquired with some hesitation, “So I’m guessing, Jerry, that since you assemble the barbeques you have some tools to disassemble them?” Jerry stomped back to the store to either retrieve his tools or quit his job, either option was reasonable at this point.
While I waited, customers walked passed assessing the scene realizing that there is a special kind of idiot that would buy a BBQ larger than the vehicle he intended to drive it home in. This moment, right here folks, is where I lost my last shred of dignity. I’m emotionally untouchable, where the hell is Jerry?!!
When Jerry finally returned, I suggested that if we just took the grille box off of the stand we could get it to fit. The problem was in order to get the grille box off we had to take out the grates, the “flavorizer bars”, the burners, oh hell, the whole thing had to come apart.
I’m taking out screws and washers and just throwing them in my trunk because neither my BBQ or my propane tank would fit in a bag or came with a box so I had nothing to put my parts in. My one-piece, cake-baking BBQ is now in twenty-seven pieces and we’re not done yet, the stand wouldn’t fit either. So, there we were taking apart the work station, the front apron with tool hanger attachment, the side grille and all of its parts and accoutrements. I’m tossing parts and screws and nuts and bolts and wheels in the back seat wondering why ‘everything has to be so hard’.
Finally my one-piece, cake-baking BBQ is broken down into about sixty-two parts all scattered about my tiny car. Jerry was exacerbated, realizing he still had to put another one together by the end of shift. But nothing compares to the frustration and stress I was feeling because, by doing things the “EASY WAY”, I ended up disassembling my one-piece, cake-baking BBQ that I will have to take home, without a box or instructions, and reassemble my sixty-two piece cake-baking BBQ.
Once home, I scoured my car for miscellaneous BBQ parts and pieces, they were everywhere. I gathered what I could, but not all as I found out, and began assembling something that closely resembled a BBQ. I had somehow managed to turn ‘doing it the easy way’ into something three times harder than doing it the hard way. As a worrier I went to bed fretting the reconstructed condition of my cake-baking BBQ.
Everyone showed for the party, even Jerry was there for some reason. All were laughing and having a great time one second and the next, they were all running around screaming, shirts and hairdos on fire and I’m waving a flaming spatula at Cindy yelling, “See! This is why I do things the hard way!” I don’t know if it was a missing screw, loose gas hose or poor assembly in general but…I woke up in a cold sweat. Each time I drifted back to sleep that restless night I had the same nightmare.
So, if you ever happen to see me doing anything; building a rocket ship in my back yard, making peanut butter toast or just brushing my teeth and you think, ‘There’s an easier way to do that’, keep it to yourself and understand that if I’m doing something the hard way, it’s because it’s far easier than if I tried to do it the easy way.
