Don’t expect some epiphanic message behind this very bluntly titled post. I’m merely retelling my account of an entirely too annoying battle with this lightbulb fixture:
I am not usually the designated lightbulb changer in our office. Mainly because I am not a fan of ladders. I’m not afraid of heights, I just hold a strong grudge against objects that pretend to be stairs. I’m looking at you Stairmaster SM916!
Do you want to know how many Philips it takes to change a lightbulb? Just 1.
It takes one Philip, a pair of pliers, a divine level of grace and balance, eagle like eyesight and precision, a chiropractor, five sets of said chiropractor’s nimble fingers, and a broom.
Ok boys and girls. Look back to Figure 1 above. Do you see the screwythingydoodle (STD for short) that the lightbulb inserts into? You know how under normal circumstances it’s supposed to stay in a fixed position as you tighten the lightbulb? Well this one failed to understand that concept entirely. Instead, it retreated back up into the hole anytime the slightest amount of pressure was added to it. Kind of like how a child does when you tell it that you are going to steal its nose purely out of the pleasure of terrifying small children. Hence, my need for pliers to hold the STD in place. Except that I couldn’t fit the pliers and the lightbulb in the fixture at the same time. Believe me, I tried for 30 minutes.
Luckily, I was given a five minute intermission as a coworker came to grab me due to my having a visitor. One of my good friends unexpectedly stopped by the office to say hi before leaving Chicago for the weekend. Normally, such a surprise would induce me into a chorus of childish giggles. But as the STD could attest to,this was no normal day. After wishing my friend safe travels, I returned to my work.
I think I spent the next two minutes repeatedly shoving the lightbulb into its designated space hoping that it would suddenly just attach itself. I then decided I would do some investigative work and undo the entire structure in hopes of finding out why I couldn’t accomplish this simple task. Now, turn your eyes back to the figure and notice how the flap of doom!!! holds the external surface in place via the annoying springs. The trick was to unhook the ends of the springs without allowing them to detach from the opposite end. That’s the trick. That doesn’t mean I succeeded. After taking everything off and still failing to screw the lightbulb in, I spent another 15 minutes reattaching everything. I’m highly doubtful that the annoying springs are attached correctly, but I was not and still am not concerned about that. It had been about 55 minutes since I started the task, and our chiropractor Magdaleena decided to come check on me. I explained the struggle, and she decided to give it a go. I helped her to remove the entire structure again, and she used her dextile, majestic chiropractor fingers to reach behind the flap of doom and hold the STD in place as she effortlessly screwed in the lightbulb. “I could have done that too if my fingers weren’t so pudgy from stuffing my face with chipotle five days a week”, I thought. I pretended to be helpful as she reattached everything once again, and I swept up the mess I made. Mission accomplished.
Moral of the story: this is why I am the chiropractic assistant, and she is the boss.