A Tool and His Money

“The heart of a father is the masterpiece of nature.” — Antoine François Prévost

Whenever I went looking for a Father’s Day card, I tried to avoid the tool-themed cards.

They usually show images of hammers and saws to nail down the idea that Dad is the guy who fixes stuff.

Like a lot of men, my late father fancied himself a bit of handyman, and like a lot of men, he might have…overestimated his abilities.

I remember when he replaced the bathroom light switch, only he put it in upside down, so you had to flick it up if you wanted to see what you were doing in there.

And there was the time he rebuilt the cellar steps. I believe one of my brothers was supposed to help him, but Dad wound up doing it on his own.

When he bragged about his achievement, my brother sarcastically claimed that even Phoebe, the family cat, was afraid to walk down those steps.

I have absolutely no interest in the whole Mr. Fix-it schtick. If the job is anything beyond changing a light bulb, I quickly call for backup.

On one level, I do understand the appeal of home repairs. The (very) few times I’ve done anything is this area I did feel a legit sense of accomplishment.

My father gave us plenty of great advice and one of favorites was “if you sell yourself cheap, people will buy you cheap.”

It was important lesson in self-worth that I try to apply every day.

But you can’t let your ego get in the way and end up trashing your home. In the immortal words of that great father figure. Dirty Harry, “a man’s got to know his limitations.”

Every year I go through the ritual of installing my air conditioners. Given my history of back trouble, I don’t want to do this on my own, so I ask a friend on my block who very kindly helps me out.

A few weeks one of my neighbors was observing (complaining) that I should put brackets in my windows to support the air conditioners and keep them from falling to the earth.

If I Had a Hammer...

Up until now, I’ve been pretty much relying on duct tape and Hail Marys to keep them in place until autumn, but I don’t want to push my luck.

I Amazoned a pair of brackets, cracked open the box, and started reading the directions with the notion of doing this job myself.

Hell, I thought, it’s just a simple task, and when you complete it, you’ll have the satisfaction of doing the job yourself.

“Take a power drill…” the directions began.

Power drill? What power drill? I don’t have no stinkin’ power drill. I’ve got a screwdriver in my silverware drawer—I think—but I don’t truck with motor-powered repair devices. Who am I—Ed Norton?

I saw that Amazon was having a sale on handheld power drills, and I dropped one into my cart and headed for the checkout.

Then reality set it.

Dude, I said myself, you, with a power drill? Are you out of your mind?

I pictured myself blasting away at my windowsill with this tool time Uzi, causing all sorts of mayhem and misery.

The home repair disaster area has been a comedy stable since the days of the Hal Roach Studios, but that kind of wanton destruction doesn’t play well in reality.

Yes, I’ve allowed limiting beliefs to hold me back for most of my life but there are times when the limiting is for a very good reason.

And this was one of them.

I called a guy I had worked with years ago but getting no response, I jumped on to the NextDoor website and sent out a handyman SOS.

The responses came rapidly, and I finally settled on a gentleman named Michel who stopped by Friday, installed the brackets in nothing flat, and then went above and beyond the call of duty and put in the damn air conditioners, sparing my spine and giving my buddy a break.

This all cost me a mere 50 bucks—$40 for the work and another $10 because I was just so grateful and relieved.

So, Happy Father’s Day to all those dads out there. If you’re the home repair type, keep up the good work.

And if you’re the sort of dad who doesn’t know a flat-head from a Phillips, I’ll gladly send you Michel’s number.