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:
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Courtney said,
Friday, April 18, 2008 at 5:59 pm
Ha! I love the caution about the smell. That is too funny. I’m a moron when it comes to projects that require assembly. I’ll get it done, but it will take me considerably longer than it would take your average person with brains. Could make this Saturday interesting as we’re having furniture delivered that includes a bed and a tv stand that we actually have to assemble ourselves. Joy.
jeniferm said,
Friday, April 18, 2008 at 6:02 pm
I love the second caution also. Fantastic!
Now for what you were assembling. I get the cord wrap. It’s like the part on a vacuum cleaner that you swivel down to unwrap the cord in one fell swoop. Only probably yours doesn’t swivel. But I see nothing that makes sense with the cord management system. And did you seriously install something called a “3 receptacle power tap” that sounds like an electrical outlet? That seems extreme for an “assembly required” cart. And this is from a master assembler. I bow to your ability to complete this cart.
Dru said,
Friday, April 18, 2008 at 7:28 pm
LOL! I think you got the wrong instructions with your cart. Too darn funny.
I’ve been there with you on items having to be assembled with terrible instructions. I’ve posted on my blog about my various assembly purchases. Sometimes the pictures are better than the instruction. And in most cases, I seems to miss one step which results in the furniture missing a rung which hmm, wasn’t needed anyway.
I’m glad you were able to assemble despite what the instructions said. I still trying to figure out why you needed a cord management system.
Love the “cautious” sign as opposed to it being a caution.
Caryn said,
Friday, April 18, 2008 at 8:38 pm
Yeah, Courtney, I’m the same way. I was kind of embarrassed when the engineer across the hall applied a little logic and got some of the reluctant cart parts to cooperate. It seemed so logical in retrospect. And lots of luck with the TV stand. May it be unusually cooperative.
Exactly, Jenifer. And, no, it doesn’t swivel. In fact, I thought that’s what they meant about the ‘cord management system’ — until I read directions for assembling it afterward, making them mutually exclusive. Oops. And, yes, the cart contained an electrical outlet that I had to install. That all happened in step one. It was, thank goodness, the trickiest part, so I got it over with.
Dru, that is entirely possible! Actually, it came with FOUR sets of instructions, all of which appeared identical but contained somewhat different pictures of the finished cart. That in itself made me rather suspicious. And I’m with you on missing parts not being that important in retrospect. I mean, who actually needs the shelf parts of bookshelves, right?
emily said,
Friday, April 18, 2008 at 10:59 pm
bad drawings *and* written by someone who speaks english as a second language? looks like you hit the jackpot with this one!
Liz said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 6:39 am
how do you manage to spell AFTER wrong?
Diane Craver said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 9:59 am
I’m lousy at assembling furniture so I ask my son to do everything for me that needs assembling. He complains about the instructions but he does a good job. And love the smell warning! lol
thanks for visiting my blog!
Caryn said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 10:44 am
Emily, I know it’s silly, but ever since we found the Cautious sign several years ago, the first thing I do when I open a new product is flip to the instruction manual, hoping that it will either be perfectly clear or else will make no sense whatsoever. The first is helpful, the second is, at least, good for a laugh.
Liz, all I can think is that they typed it wrong because the next word started with an e, too, but really I have no idea. The funny thing is that the person who wrote it was probably elected because s/he had the best grasp of English.
Diane, that’s so great! Now you don’t have to do the assembling, and your son gets to be comfortable with handywork. Nice system.
Pam said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 11:09 am
You had a rubber mallet, so I think that’s the most important thing–it lets you beat the snot out of something with very little sound involved. Great for not attracting witnesses, er, bystanders.
My sympathies on the instructions. It actually makes me nostalgic for the IKEA instructions with the little pictures of people included–very friendly.
And the Cautious? Priceless. I can see why you kept it.
Robin said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 12:20 pm
I hate assemblying almost as much as I hate setting foot at a car dealership. My hat is off to you – you tackled those ridiculous instructions with far less backup than I would have needed. I cringe when I must purchase something that says “some assembly required.” Yeah, right. There’s some and then there’s some. Luckily, I’ve got a hubby who can put anything together (and most often does so without paying any attention to the instructions.)
I’m curious how the wooden magazine rack has held up with such an eloquent note included. lol
I hope there’s no further assembly jobs in your future! Have a great weekend!
Marianne said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 12:36 pm
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!!
Caryn said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 12:51 pm
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.
Robin said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 5:29 pm
Might I suggest not inhaling?
Katie said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 8:14 pm
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**.
bookmom said,
Saturday, April 19, 2008 at 8:31 pm
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!
Alyson Noel said,
Sunday, April 20, 2008 at 10:50 am
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!
Caryn said,
Sunday, April 20, 2008 at 1:22 pm
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.
Carly said,
Sunday, April 20, 2008 at 9:06 pm
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!
Eileen said,
Sunday, April 20, 2008 at 10:28 pm
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.
virginia said,
Monday, April 21, 2008 at 9:43 am
i hate having to assemble stuff. especially if there’s more than 3 parts.
Caryn said,
Monday, April 21, 2008 at 10:46 am
Carly, those sound like good guidelines to me! Especially if the person who’s helping happens to be handy with the tools and doesn’t mind doing the grunt work of moving the pieces around if need be.
Eileen, I can see what you mean by that. Especially with the adorable little guys on the instructions. They can either serve to soften the blow or to mock, depending on your mood. (Pam e-mailed me a copy of IKEA instructions, so now I know what they look like.)
Virginia, I’m with you on that. And I have the scars to back it up.
Kyle said,
Monday, April 21, 2008 at 12:33 pm
Hi Caryn!
Thanks for the comment at my site! I’ve never written a screenplay, either, but I’ve always wanted to, and a competition was just the jolt I needed to take the plunge. I did the same thing with short stories… I was always afraid of them, but then wrote one for a Writers Digest competition… Unfortunately, I didn’t win, but it got me going. Hopefully this one fairs better, but, if it doesn’t, at least it got me working on them!
That is probably the funniest thing I have ever heard. Who HASN’T had a bad experience with a piece of “assembly required” furniture? And I LOVE the “Cautious” note! That’s pretty much my life mantra RIGHT THERE! Haha.
You’re a good writer, and funny! My first thought was that you should consider writing a book… and then I saw you had! Several! I’ll be stopping by often to check on your progress!!!
~Kyle
Conda V. Douglas said,
Monday, April 21, 2008 at 3:33 pm
I needed this story right now–we just “installed” our new microwave–well, my guy installed and I helped. One little piece of metal had to be removed for the fan to work. And my guy reads instructions. So it only took an hour to figure out HOW to remove it!
Larramie said,
Monday, April 21, 2008 at 10:10 pm
First it was mastering the reuaseable bag and now you’ve succeeded in assembling a cart. Before we know it, Caryn, you’ll have a show n HGTV!
The Muse said,
Tuesday, April 22, 2008 at 6:05 am
Never read the instructions! Go by your instincts at all times when it comes to assembly, this makes life more interesting.
I usually just look at the picture on the box and go for it!
If I fail on my first attempt, I try again.
If I can’t get it together on my own, I glance at the instructions.
If I messed something up, beyond repair like stripping a screw, on my initial attempt, I return the pile to the store and buy the display at a discount. They will discount it for me because I complain, complain, complain, until I get what I want.
Joanne Rendell said,
Tuesday, April 22, 2008 at 6:31 am
Hilarious! I once tried to assemble a gate-leg table from IKEA. Impossible. I suffered major knuckle injuries from those silly allen (sp?) keys!
J.L. Krueger said,
Tuesday, April 22, 2008 at 7:22 am
Sorry Caryn…I can’t relate.
I usually only vaguely peruse the instructions…to get a general idea of progression. I learned long ago that the writers/illustrators of assembly instructions have not a clue.
My method drives my wife nuts…so much so that she won’t watch me assembling things because she wants to read the instructions in detail and then second-guess everything I’m doing. Occasionally I’ll let her steady things for me, but it’s usually best if she’s not around during assembly.
Melissa Blue said,
Wednesday, April 23, 2008 at 7:55 am
I have a love/hate relationship with build it yourself products. I try to avoid them at all cost. Because something that should only take 30 minutes to assemble turns into 2 hours of me cursing. And the things I assemble, not matter if I followed ALL directions, seem to lean to the left.
You have my sympathies.
Caryn said,
Wednesday, April 23, 2008 at 9:50 am
Kyle, thank you so much for your kind words. They made my day. Seriously.
I hope you do stop by again. I enjoyed your blog as well.
Conda, what a pain! Glad you got it figured out, but still, it must not have been a fun hour!
LOL, Larramie! I tell ya, I’m out to conquer the world. Just watch out.
Muse, I’ve bought floor models before, too, and for that same reason! As long as I can get them home all in one piece, I’m happy.
Joanne, I’m definitely going to have to think twice before I get anything from Ikea. Hope you healed speedily.
J.L., I can see why your wife won’t watch you when you use methods like that! But the fact that you can make it work anyway is quite impressive.
Melissa, I know what you mean! It ALWAYS takes me far, far longer than it seems like it should.
Mary said,
Wednesday, April 23, 2008 at 12:45 pm
I sympathise. That diagram is clear as mud!
I don’t think self-assembly is ever the happy experience that catalogues and display pieces promise.
The worst is when you drive a hundred miles to Ikea, just manage to squeeze everything into the car, drive home, unload, unpack, decipher the instructions, and then find there’s a piece missing. Ahhhhhhh!
Pam said,
Thursday, April 24, 2008 at 11:57 am
The worst is when you drive a hundred miles to Ikea, just manage to squeeze everything into the car, drive home, unload, unpack, decipher the instructions, and then find there’s a piece missing. Ahhhhhhh!
And then they tell you don’t return it to the store–call the handy-dandy 1-800 number and wait for it to be shipped to you. Like you didn’t have to gird your loins enough to go, buy the dang thing, wrestle it into your hatchback, bump it into your house through every too-small door and crowded hallway, and put it together on your wasted Saturday, now you have to wait for the piece to arrive, the big box and furniture parts scattered everywhere!!!
Not that that’s happened to me or anything…
Caryn said,
Saturday, April 26, 2008 at 1:32 pm
Mary, I think you’re right. Think it’s false advertising? Maybe I can call them on it, and force them to put the furniture together for me next time.
Pam, that does sound like a huge pain! And, yeah, clearly you have no experience with such a thing. None whatsoever…
Mary said,
Monday, April 28, 2008 at 10:17 am
Pam: Absolutely! Not that that happened to me, either. I just loved having a semi-assembled desk cluttering the room … for THREE WEEKS!
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