Andy Young: Incompetence pays a dividend

By Andy Young

Like many males of his generation, my father was exceptionally good at working with his hands. Trained as an electrician, he also learned basic carpentry, mechanics, masonry, plumbing, and auto body repair. He could fix anything, so naturally he tried to pass some of his very practical abilities on to his children, starting with his oldest son.

Much to Dad’s disappointment, I wasn’t the most eager or hardworking apprentice. However, I ultimately mastered every skill he had, except those related to electricity, carpentry, mechanics, masonry, plumbing, and auto body repair. Today the only talent I have that he didn’t came courtesy of my maternal grandfather’s DNA. I can change nearly any indoor light bulb without needing a stepladder, something my 5-foot-7 father couldn’t always accomplish.

My failure to pick up any of those valuable skills was as much due to impatience as it was to any innate disability. Then, as now, I enjoyed trying things I quickly excelled at, but if I couldn’t master something instantly frustration kicked in, followed in short order by indifference, disdain, and, depending on how long certain adults insisted I keep trying, deep loathing.

In retrospect, being able to perform what some consider basic tasks would have saved me thousands of dollars over the years. Paying people to keep cars running efficiently, unclog pipes, repair furniture, put up sheetrock and rewire electrical outlets is expensive. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t taken any cruises or invested in any timeshares recently.

Or ever.

But every so often having a limited skill set can come in handy. Late last month my washing machine stopped completing the “spin” part of its job, meaning every load of laundry needed to be wrung out, item by item, and then line dried in the basement, since even a dope like me knows enough not to put dripping clothing into an electric dryer.

Getting a repairman to come diagnose (and subsequently fix) a large home appliance is difficult under normal circumstances, but it’s next to impossible to find one during the holidays. The few potential repairers who responded to my phone calls indicated they wouldn’t be available until the second week of the new year. There would be a significant cost just to have them show up, and the price of parts and labor was likely to dwarf that initial fee. The machine was already elderly when I moved into my current residence nine years ago, so a number of my well-meaning friends suggested I cut my losses and buy a new one. I considered that until I learned what new washing machines cost.

So, I did what comes naturally: nothing. But as my supply of clean clothing dwindled, I realized I needed to take action. I tentatively put in a test load consisting of just washcloths, socks, underwear, and thin t-shirts, all items which could, if necessary, be squeezed out manually and then hung up to dry. But before starting I felt around under the washing machine’s agitator and found two separate sizable wads of dried paper towels, which I hypothesized might have once been wet paper towels that maybe, just maybe, could have messed up my washer’s inner workings. The laundry came out fine, as did the next load, which consisted of heavier items like sheets, towels, jeans, and sweatshirts.

My inability to get anyone to come out and relieve me of several hundred dollars to see if my washing machine was salvageable resulted in the problem resolving itself, saving me lots of money and stress in the process.

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, against all odds, ineptitude actually pays off. <