There are three things you should know about my day:
1) It’s Friday.
2) I got to go into work late.
3) While at work, I had to assemble a piece of furniture.
The first is universal, the second is lucky, and the third is capable of canceling out the pleasure of the other two. Oh, the project started out just fine, as all bad ideas do. I sliced open the box, pulled everything out, and got cozy on the floor with all the necessary ingredients: a rubber mallet, a screwdriver, and the recently unboxed parts — including the deceptively labeled ‘Assembly Instructions’. Which is where the project hit the skids. Because as it turns out a job illustrating for this particular company does not require an actual working knowledge of basic drawing skills. My friend Christa has freshman art students who can draw better diagrams than these. Let’s take the ‘cord management system’, for example. Despite the fancy name, which must have required at least mild ingenuity on the part of the writers, the illustrators did not deem it necessary to actually label it on the assembly diagram, which is just not fair. This left me to guess, and guessing + me + hardware = trouble. Which is why it took me over an hour and assistance from a friend with an honest-to-God engineering degree to finally get the thing fully built. Even he was bemused by a few of the directives, so I finally ended up skipping several of the more confusing ones. So far the cart is still standing and the world hasn’t crashed to a halt, so I think I’m safe.
Okay, I know I’ve been known to hyperbolize on occasion and I sense that you think I’m doing so now, but I assure you I’m not. And so, for your viewing pleasure, I’ve scanned step one. There are seven more where that came from, but I think this one gets the point across nicely. Just click on the photo if you’d like a larger version. It still won’t make sense, but at least you can say you tried. You can even attempt to find where the elusive ‘cord management system’ is if you’re feeling ambitious.
The good news is that sharing this with you has cheered me up considerably. Indeed, now that I’ve begun to move past the irritation-at-self-and-others stage of this trauma and the cart is fully assembled, I have started to develop a little affection for these instructions — even if the illustrators did cheat. I can even appreciate the fact that no one was injured during the cart-building process.
This will never be my favorite company communique, however, despite its total lack of sense. No, that honor is reserved for the single sheet my husband pulled from a box before assembling the simple wooden magazine rack contained within. The page has resided on our refrigerator ever since:
A fun game at our house is to watch my DH try to assemble something terrifically difficult, because he absolutely refuses to read instructions. The worst case ever was a piece of exercise equipment that he put together except one last piece, and then discovered that it had to go on FIRST before anything else.
Yes, I’m easily amused.
🙂
Thanks for visiting earlier!!
So true, Pam! Ask anyone who happened by my work area — although I wasn’t enjoying the rest of the task, I had a blast pounding the snot out of, well, everything that needed to be pounded. Which turned out to be a lot of parts. And I’ve never bought anything from IKEA, but now I kind of want to, just for the people-friendly instructions.
That’s the thing, Robin: “Some assembly required” implies that it’s a token amount of assembling, when the reality is usually so much more horrifying. As for the magazine rack, it is still perched happily in our family room, filled with magazines I’ve been meaning to read for ages but still haven’t gotten around to.
Marianne, I actually laughed out loud at your comment! Good thing only the cats were around to hear me. Poor guy. One thing my mom drilled into me was reading all the instructions before beginning. It applies to directions for assembling furniture, recipes, and sewing patters, among others. It’s saved me a lot of grief. But sometimes, like your husband I’m just impatient to get started. I always pay for it later.
Might I suggest not inhaling?
Geez, Caryn. Sorry to hear this. I hate this stuff, and though I AM mechanically inclined to an extent, I get to a point where I just CAN’T figure out what to do next. Then I call my dad, because my husband thinks I should be smarter than the **insert project here**. 🙄
Well, it could have been worse. A guy could have tried to put it together, had lots of “leftover” parts and it may have listed to the side. *G* Sounds as though you did a great job. Kudos!
I once bought a bed from Ikea, back when I lived in NYC, and when the delivery guys dropped it off, they tossed the box on the floor, looked at me and said– You’re going to HATE this bed.
They were right.
And I have not assembled anything since.
Glad no one was injured in your process!
But, Robin, it’s non-toxic and no dangerous while using! Pretty please?
Katie, I don’t know if I’m mechanically inclined or not. I’m guessing not, but I just haven’t been interested enough to find out except when I have to use any latent skills I may have.
Bookmom, sounds like you’ve had a little experience with this one! Here’s hoping he learned his lesson and now reads the directions a little more thoroughly. 😉
Oh, no, Alyson! At least you were warned, I guess. Hope you were happy with the bed after you struggled through getting it together, at least.
Oh this is killer funny! I only like putting together a piece of furniture 1. if I am doing it with someone else (who is reading the directions), 2. it is very (VERY) simple, 3. I so desperately want the piece of furniture that all pain in building it is overshadowed by the anticipation of what it will become.
I am glad you found some humor in the adventure!
Oh I would have kept that caution label too. Some things are meant to be saved.
I loathe Ikea because of the “some assembly required.” I feel they are mocking me for my lack of visual spatial skills.
i hate having to assemble stuff. especially if there’s more than 3 parts. 🙂