These days, though, nearly everything you buy has "some assembly required." When you order a chair, a bed or a barbecue, you get a bag of tiny parts and an instruction leaflet that needs a magnifying glass to decode. If I bought a new car, I'm sure I would be given 1,043 pieces, a wrench and an oxy-acetylene welding set.
Recently my wife, Jocasta, ordered two outdoor lounge chairs so we could enjoy some time together in the sun.
When they arrived, she suggested that I assemble them. The instruction pamphlet had a picture of a tiny, straightshouldered man and a clock indicating that the job would take 45 minutes.
They could have entered the pamphlet in the Booker Prize for Fiction. A more accurate ideogram would have been a clock spinning to infinity and a bent double fellow whose spirit was broken. I started work on the chairs at noon and finished, ironically, just as the sun was going down.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der February 2024-Ausgabe von Reader's Digest Canada.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der February 2024-Ausgabe von Reader's Digest Canada.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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