Lovely way to start the day: DEAD BATTERY. No, I did not leave the lights on, nor the GPS plugged in. It clicks, but won’t start- I HOPE it’s just a battery.
Problem with working with computer programmers: THEY DO NOT carry jumper cables. Or so they all said. The Brit works for a big “computer-type” company, so he asked around the office. Personally, I wonder if they even know what a jumper cable is. I wonder how many of them can use power tools. My apologies fellas and girls of the computer type, but my life has become like one continuous episode of the Big Bang Theory, and I’m Penny.
So I go to the apartment office to ask if… “Do you have AAA?” (this from the MAN in the office). “No. If I did I would have called them.” Even the MAN in the office has no clue of what to do. It’s the drill fiasco* all over again. (What is it with Orange County, Californians and DIY?)
It’s hard living in a new place. In Florida, where I had lived for so long, I had “people” to call. I had my mechanic and my tire guys, we had a roof guy and a plumber we knew. I knew who to call to take care of stuff that went wrong. Now, it’s just me and 1700 computer dorks. And no jumper cables.
You make fun of my pencil and paper! You scoff at my “dumb phone!” BUT I CAN JUMP START A FREAKING CAR! NOW who’s the techno-tard!? 😛
* The Drill Fiasco
I was building some bookshelves, but only had a battery operated drill. Since leaving Florida, I have lost access to all the power tools I could borrow from my dad. My little Black &Decker drill/screw gun is great for easy stuff, but doesn’t have the zip for REAL drilling. When we first moved to this place, the office informed us that if we ever needed any tools they had them to lend. So I head up to the office to ask to borrow a drill. The 2 girls, both very nice, very fashionable young ladies, are on duty….
“You mentioned having tools to lend. I was wondering if I could borrow a drill. I am making some bookshelves.”
“You know. Out of wood? With screws? I need a drill to pre-drill the holes.”
After a moment of their brains obviously processing this concept as far as they could do, one of them asks what a drill is. Now it’s my turn to BLINK BLINK.
“It makes holes in wood.” (How else can I describe this staple of any household?)
Girl #2: “Oh, we’re just such women around here, we don’t know anything about drills.”
I wanted to slap her. I wear dresses 90% of the time and rarely wear jeans. I don’t leave the house without putting lipstick on. I accessorise with jewelry and such. I’m a girl and I still know what a drill is! Thank you for setting the women’s movement back about 200 years. NOTE: I am not a feminist. I like a man to open the door for me. But dammit, I will wear a dress AND use power tools!
So Girl #2 offers to get the tool kit to see if they have a drill. Tools? Really? Seriously? She has brought me one of those plastic tool boxes with the cheapo basic tools that you buy someone who has no knowledge of tools when they move out of their parents’ house to get their first apartment on their own. Screwdrivers, a hammer, a crescent wrench, a pair of pliers….
Girl #2: “Are any of these a drill?”
“No. These are not power tools. A drill has a motor and an electrical cord.”
So I finished the shelves with my battery operated drill because my mind was blown by this interaction with “real women”, and because I am too impatient to waste any more time going out to buy a drill.
The Brit has since bought me a nice 18volt power drill upon my announcement of my plan to build a “TV and associated techno-stuff” console this weekend. Next on my list: a circular saw. For now, I’ll let Home Depot cut the wood for me.
Mothers PLEASE teach your daughters how to use tools.