Life Can Be So Surreal

Day one in Kingman.

We’re in Kingman, camping out in a dusty parking lot on the opposite side of a fence from a carnival. My helicopter is parked about 200 feet away, next to a pile of manure. (I really can’t make this stuff up.)

Flying Up

The flight up here was just as I expected: long, hot, and bumpy. It was actually longer and bumpier than I expected but not quite as hot. That’s a good thing because I had all four doors on so I could maximize my speed and minimize my flight time.

The bumps were due to the wind. It was howling at Kingman when I arrived. It always is. This has to be one of the windiest places in Arizona. The AWOS at Kingman airport reported the wind as 180 at 24 gusting to 32.

As usual, the people in charge of the fair had dragged the north parking lot with something that got up every last bit of vegetation. They must have done this at least a week ago so the barren dirt would have plenty of time to bake in the Arizona sun and turn into the fine powdery dust we’ve come to know and hate in Kingman. When I touched down in the parking lot, I blew up a cloud of dust that could probably be seen from space. I’m sure the folks who look at satellite photos are still trying to figure out what the hell happened in Kingman today.

Apparently someone had decided to clean out their horse trailer right in the middle of my landing zone. There’s a sizable pile of manure and hay about 5 feet in front of my helicopter. From the freshness of it, I’d say it was deposited last night or this morning. I’m hoping that if I ignore it, it’ll go away.

Of course, I beat Mike up here by a good 30 minutes. I passed him on route 93 just south of Wikieup. So when two kids started walking toward the helicopter while I was shutting down, I had to trust hand signals to keep them back. They were smart kids and waited until I shut down.

Later, I took them for a ride. They were my only two rides today.

That’s two more than Friday last year.

What’s Surreal

What’s surreal is our trip to Wal-Mart. We went in after dinner, at 9 PM. I thought they’d be closing, but the damn place is open 24 hours a day.

Why Wal-Mart? Where else can you get two marine batteries, a 50-foot drinking water hose, an RV level, a quart of milk and an apple pie at 9 PM?

The batteries are for the trailer. Have I mentioned that it’s jinxed? Today’s problems include the vent cover for the bathroom ceiling vent, which apparently flew off while Mike was driving up route 93 from Wickenburg, and the pair of “maintenance free” batteries, which cannot keep a charge despite the solar panel on the roof. (At least that didn’t fly off in transit. Yet.)

I took photos of the things in Wal-Mart that I thought were weird and immediately sent them to my TumbleLog:

  • The row of about a dozen handicapped shopping carts plugged into wall sockets by the entrance. You know the ones I mean. Little scooters with big baskets on front. These things are meant for handicapped people, folks. Not fat slobs too lazy to walk the 5 acres of floor space.
  • The entire supermarket aisle dedicated to Halloween candy. Hello? Does anyone in Wal-Mart headquarters realize that Halloween is still six weeks away? And yes, they did already have Christmas stuff out, too.
  • Extended SizesThe sign advertising “extended sizes” for only $2 more. Yes, this is why I feel thin when I’m in Wal-Mart. Because compared to other Wal-Mart shoppers, I am thin.

While I’m sure the extra-large martini I had with dinner (on an otherwise empty stomach, I might add) did make the Wal-Mart shopping experience a little more enjoyable, I still think it was weird.

But what I also think is weird is that the last time I was in Wal-Mart was a full year ago — in the same store, 130 road miles from my home.

Tomorrow is another Day

Dave and Darlene will be joining us tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll do a bunch of flying. This gig is usually good for about 150 rides over 3 days. A great way to start the season.

Look for more photos on my TumbleLog.

[composed in a travel trailer parked next to a carnival with ecto]

Zen and the Art of Ikea Furniture Assembly

I experience a Zen-like calm while assembling Scandinavian-designed shelves and cabinets.

Okay, so I’m exaggerating. But it certainly was pleasant — at least for a while.

Our storage shed at Howard Mesa was in desperate need of some shelves and mouse-proof cabinets.We needed the solution to be cheap.

In a fit of confusion, we’d gone to a Wal-Mart in Prescott and bought some crappy, Chinese-made modular shelves. Of course, we didn’t know they were crappy at the time. Although I hate Wal-Mart and hadn’t stepped foot inside one for more than two years, for some reason we thought we could find what we needed there. After all, Stan raves about the place. Maybe it had changed in two years. It hadn’t. (People say I’m too hard on Wal-Mart but I know I’m not.) And the “furniture” we bought was so poorly made that we brought back all the pieces we hadn’t assembled. We’re still trying to figure out what we’ll do with the three pieces we did put together.

Back to square one.

I was going to try Office Max when Mike suggested Ikea. There’s one down in Tempe, near Phoenix. I didn’t think they’d have what we wanted, but got online to check their catalog. That’s when I found the Träby series of cube-like shelves with optional doors and drawers. We went down to Ikea with the truck to see them in person. They were exactly what we were looking for. And — surprise, surprise — all the pieces we needed were in stock. I loaded up the cart, checked out, and loaded up the truck. Yesterday, at Howard Mesa, I began assembly.

If you’ve never assembled Ikea furniture, you really are missing out on an experience.

First, open the box in which the item’s pieces are packed. You’ll find the box completely filled in with furniture pieces, bag-wrapped hardware, and the minimum number of foam inserts. There’s no wasted space in that box. Since Träby had a natural wood finish, each piece was wrapped in clean, blank newsprint paper.

Now unwrap the hardware and sort it out. There will be pieces you’ve never seen before (unless you’ve assembled Ikea furniture in the past). You might want to sort out the furniture pieces, too. Each one will be slightly different and have tons of holes pre-drilled into it.

Open the instruction booklet. The whole thing is pictures. Line drawings of furniture pieces and hardware with arrows and numbers. In fact, it looks a lot like a coloring book before a kid has gotten to it with crayons. My favorite picture is the one of the man with the pointy nose on the phone; they phone wire is connected to the Ikea store. In words: Call us if you need help.

Next, get your tools ready. You’ll need a philips head screwdriver. That’s it. Okay, sometimes you might need a hammer, but if you do, the hammering job is so light that you can use the heel of your shoe or the handle of the screwdriver.

Now sit on the floor with everything around you. And follow the numbered pictures in the instruction booklet. You’ll screw in weird, tall screws that stick up an inch or more, then stand a panel on top of them and use round do-dads to hold it in place. It’ll be rock solid when you turn the round thing, as if there are ten more screws doing the job. Back panels slide into slots and are held in place with other slots.

What’s amazing about the assembly process is that everything is so incredibly well designed that the pieces can only go together one way. When you’re finished assembling a piece, you feel as if you have performed the final function in a long string of tasks that bring that piece of furniture into existence. You feel as if you’re part of the Ikea team. Like there are a bunch of Europeans nodding their approval at you from across the ocean.

I say Europeans because Ikea is a Scandinavian company and the Träby shelves I bought were made in Poland. The workmanship was quite impressive for such inexpensive furniture. And everything is designed right down to the last screw hole.

The cabinet doors went on just as easily. The only hard part was bending my body in such a way to get the screws into the right pre-drilled holes. The hinges had all kinds of adjustment screws, but I found that if I just used the center setting for each screw, the door hung properly — the first time, every time. Sheesh.

Things changed when it came time to do the drawers. I’d bought two sets of them. Each set had a big drawer and a small drawer. When I opened the box, I got a shock: the drawer insides were lavender. You know. The color. Popular around Easter.

I followed the instructions to assemble the drawers and found that the pieces fit together admirably well. But I hit a snag when I screwed the roller tracks into the cubes I’d already assembled. I kept stripping the screw heads before I could get the screw all the way in.

Now this was weird. I’d been screwing things in all afternoon and hadn’t changed my technique. I hadn’t stripped a single screw up until that point. Now I was stripping the heads on every single screw, unable to get them all the way in. What had changed?

I looked at the box the drawers had come in and saw my answer: Made in China. I guess Poland wasn’t cheap enough for the folks at Ikea headquarters. They’d outsourced to China, like everyone else. The Europeans who’d been nodding their approval were now snickering at me.

I got fed up and stopped only halfway finished with the job. I’ll need Mike to get two of the screws out so I can try again with a fresh set. I’ll go to the hardware store today and buy new screws. Hopefully, they won’t be made in China. Or, if they are, they’ll be made with slightly better quality metal.

Lessons to be learned here? Cheap is cheap for a reason. Even Ikea outsources to China. The best-designed furniture can still be rendered useless by poor-quality hardware.

Today I’ll put together the last shelf cube. With luck, I’ll get that same feeling I had yesterday at the end of all my successful assemblies. But when I feel those Europeans nodding their approval, I’ll ignore them.

As for the Träby shelves and cabinets — they look great and are rock solid.

[posted with ecto]

Ikea, furniture, Poland, China

Just Say No to Outsourcing

Alamo and National lose a rental customer.

I’m going to Austin, TX in April to attend an Apple Computer event. I had to do the usual things to arrange a trip like that: airline reservations, hotel reservations, car rental reservations. I did the airline stuff on the Web — it really is easier. I did the hotel reservations by phone, calling two of the three hotels close to where I had to go. And then I did the car rental reservations by calling toll-free phone numbers.

Hertz and Avis phones were answered by folks who were obviously American based in US cities. I only had to make my request once. English is their primary language and they had no trouble understanding me. I got rates from each — Avis was $22 cheaper.

But that wasn’t enough. I also called Alamo and National. And in both cases, I was connected to someone at a noisy desk in India.

Regular readers of this blog know how I feel about outsourcing US jobs for US companies serving US citizens to foreign countries. When I make a reservation with a US company for service in the US, I fully expect the entire transaction to be conducted in this country.

Yet Alamo and National, in their attempt to save a few bucks an hour on employee costs, are willing to sacrifice good customer service. Both representatives had heavy Indian accents that were difficult to understand and, in both conversations, I had to repeat my requests several times. I told both of them that I didn’t do business with companies that outsource customer service labor and hung up on them.

Months ago, I cancelled all of my AT&T service and sold all of my AT&T stock because the company had turned over customer service to representatives in India. I’ve also cancelled several credit cards when I learned that customer service was handled overseas. I’ve stopped doing business with companies I know are outsourcing.

There’s something wrong with outsourcing US jobs to overseas employees. Every time a US citizen loses his or her job to someone in another country, the US economy gets a little weaker. There’s one less person with an income, one less person able to buy goods and services. When that person has to take a lower paying job — like as a checkout person in a Wal-Mart — the weakness remains despite the replacement job.

Am I alone in feeling this way? Are American companies so greedy that they’re willing to lose potential customers — not just people like me with principles but the people they’re leaving on unemployment lines? When is it going to stop? I’d rather pay more for goods or services to know that in doing so I’m keeping other Americans employed.

Do your part. Stand up for what you think is right. And just say no to outsourcing US jobs overseas.

Now don’t get me started on goods made in China.