Rusty Saber: 'Assembly required' still frightening words

Editor's note: While Joe McAdoo vacations in Maui, the Business Journal will run a selection of favorite columns from the past.

There are a few sure things in life. The phone call you are waiting for will come while you are in the shower, for instance. Another sure thing is that if you spill coffee on yourself, you will do it when wearing something light-colored so the stain will show. Another is that bad things will happen when two people share one desk. I don't care who the two people are, they can't do it. I speak from firsthand experience.

My wife and I have an office in the basement with a desk, file cabinet and computer. Both of us have our own unique types of clutter; desk clutter from two people simply can't co-mingle.

Faced with the stark reality that one of us would have to give up the desk, I realized it would be me. Besides, I've given up on the family computer because I've developed a love affair with my laptop computer. Although it's called a laptop, I never use it on my lap; it's not very comfortable, and it's hot. Type on it for an hour or so and your lap is toast.

A new desk was needed to hold the computer and my very own clutter. Having previously staked a claim on a site an upstairs bedroom used only when grandchildren come calling we went shopping for a desk and chair. Happily, the right size desk and perfect chair were found.

My euphoria was short-lived. The desk and chair we took home weren't in exactly the same condition as the ones on the showroom floor. Both were packed in boxes with two of the most terrifying words in the English language stamped on the sides: Assembly Required. Since the desk was in a box about 5 feet long and 9 inches high, I was pretty sure it wasn't assembled. If it were, I surely wouldn't need a chair.

I'm not certain what I dislike most about putting furniture together. The instructions, perhaps. Step 2.1 of the chair assembly read: "2.1. Place part (13B) backrest plastic plate on the back rest aligning the holes. Place part (9) backrest post (T TOP) flushed in part (13B) back rest plastic plate ... ." Clear as an algae-filled pond, right?

I think I know what I dislike even more than instructions written by the same people who write VCR operations manuals. My mindset causes me to dread home assembly like I dread the sore throat preceding a cold. In this case, it took too long for the desk and chair to look like a desk and chair. I want a chair to look like a chair immediately, not like a grab bag of odds and ends from a hardware store.

There was no escaping the fact that we had to assemble them. My wife has a more charitable attitude toward home assembly. Job one for her is to get organized. Me? I just jump into the project like a horned toad in a hail storm. When finished and there are pieces left over, then, and only then, do I wish I had organized things first.

An avid map reader, my wife likes the challenge of following the instructions like they were routes on a highway. She put all the screws in a muffin tin, divided by size, and laid out all the pieces in order. She maintained strict control over everything.

Reading aloud each line of the instructions, she guided me through each and every step. My assigned duty was to man the screwdrivers and a weird-looking gizmo provided to tighten machine screws. It takes an iron fist to keep me from junking the instructions and going off on my own. My wife has one.

With a minimum of language by me unsuitable to repeat here, the chair was finished. It looked like a chair; it didn't collapse; pulling the lever, the chair raised and lowered just like it's supposed to do. The desk took longer, but my wife's discipline guided me through my tasks.

After much blood. sweat and tears, it began to look like a desk. With the last screw tightened, we had a nice-looking desk; the drawers fit and opened and shut. Amazing! Only one screw was left over.

Because of my wife's careful adherence to detail, I know we didn't miss one. I'll bet the manufacturer tossed in an extra screw to confuse us one last time.

I'm typing this column at my new desk, amid my own personal clutter! Nothing has collapsed, yet. Who says craftsmanship is a lost art?

(Joe McAdoo is former chairman of the communication. department at Drurv College and a Springfield public relations consultant.)