'Easy to assemble' is the world's great lie
Lori Clinch
Are We There Yet?

My mother, Lord love her, called the other morning to tell me that she had bought four new kitchen chairs.

Isn't that just nice?

As she talked, I pictured four matching chairs at her table just begging for guests to sit around with a cup of coffee. I didn't get physically ill when she mentioned that the chairs came in boxes. I wasn't dismayed when she told me that the box said "easy assembly." I didn't freak out when she mentioned that some of the hardware was foreign, and I didn't throw up when she said that the assembler needed the patience of Ghandi.

I also completely understood when she told me that she couldn't construct them with my father because they, as a couple, were still suffering the ill effects of what shall forever be remembered as "The Great Entertainment Center Disaster of 1991."

Mom still shudders to think.

"I don't suppose you could stop over today and help me put them together while your father is out for coffee," she asked. And then she dropped her voice an octave, used her best feeble tone, and added, "Could you, Honey?"

"Well," I inquired as I wished I had not taken the phone call, or at least had the foresight to fake the flu, "what sort of tools will I need?"

"Oh you'll need nothing," she responded quickly and with so much enthusiasm that she was practically singing. "The box said that all the required tools are included. There's even a picture on the front, of a cute little Allen wrench."

And that, my friends, is when I should have fabricated static. I should have banged the receiver with my hand, faked a lost connection and hung up the phone. But, oh no, not me. I was gullible enough to be suckered in, and I drove to her house with all of the enthusiasm of a little kid going to clean the john.

"Easy assembly" was repeated quite often throughout the 12-page instruction manual, and each chair came complete with eight easy bolts, six wooden dowels and - for do-it-yourselfers who wanted to walk on the wild side - 16 fun and simple lock nuts.

"My, you're so handy," my mother said as I tried to tighten a 6-inch bolt with the tiny little hex wrench. "Would you look at you go! I would never know how to do something like that. Women of your generation are so independent." With that, she sat down, put her feet up, opened up her Diet Coke and added, "Your husband must be so proud."

Although I was hating the whole process and wishing that "easy assembly" chairs had never been invented, I didn't really get frustrated until I found out that the bolt, no matter how one tried, would not actually thread into the hole. That's right. In fact, one could turn until one went purple trying to force the 6-inch bolt into the hole, and it still wouldn't actually bolt into anything.

I tried taking the bolt out and then reinserting it. I tried hammering the stinking thing in just a tad. I tried to turn the bolt left, turn it right and even called it a dirty name.

"Read me the directions again," I said to my 13-year-old son as I dabbed the sweat from my brow.

"Well," he replied, "the picture shows parts A, B, C and D. The B's are wooden, the C's have metal tags, and it says to take the D's and put them in the lock thing and then use your Allen wrench to tighten it like so."

I didn't say so much as to glare at him over the unassembled chair. Not one to be dissuaded with his mother's lack of patience, he smiled at me and said, "It's easy, see the picture?"

Three hours and two Tylenols later, I shoved the chairs into their new spots around Mom's kitchen table, picked up my purse and stomped out the door.

I had barely walked into my own front door when the phone started ringing. "Lori Ann?" I heard my father say in a sing-song voice that rivaled my mother's, "You did such a nice job on the chairs that your mom and I were wondering when you were coming back to do her new kitchen table." When I didn't answer he added, "The box says that it's an easy assembly!"

I made swishing noises, blew into the receiver, shouted out something about a bad connection and hung up the phone.

Women of my generation aren't just independent, we're downright resourceful.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.