I hate my life

I hate my life. The biggest problem with this is I don’t have a bad life. I hate my life because things are okay, but I want more. Does that make any sense? No. Of course it doesn’t. I’m just being a spoiled American, who can’t deal with what I have. We’re a weird lot, aren’t we? Perhaps I should start again.

I hate what my life has become. (that’s better) It could be so easy if I’d stop trying to make it better. I could’ve ignored my children and let them run amok, like parents of old. But no, I trained them to be polite and individuals, so they could do well in the world. I also could’ve been lazy, unemployed, swilling beer, and collecting government payments. Sadly, I got a job, to use my talents and support my family. Hold it! Did I just say, I hate my life because I’m a good responsible person? A re-think may be in order.

Take three. I suppose I really don’t hate my life as much as I hate myself for making my life so much more complicated. Well now, that’s an interesting way to look at it. I’m such an complicated person, that I keep doing more stuff to make the world a better place. If I keep talking like this, I’m going to get a swelled head. So, I’d better come to the point.

… My job

It all starts with my job. My company doesn’t make anything. It makes processes other companies use to make things. Say you want to make a Kafutz. You would come to my company with your Kafutz procedures, ask them to create machines and policies, designed for Kafutz mass production. We have the resources to do that.

My job in the Kafutz process is to interface between the engineers, and costumers. In short it means. I tell the engineers the stupid customers want it all and want it yesterday. Then I tell the customers the idiot engineers can’t do what they want. Whose side am I on? Whoever I’m talking too, that’s who. Duh! I’m no dummy. Either way, for this I make the big bucks.

… My weird ideas

All this has given me delusions of grandeur. It seems I have begun to see myself as being on both teams. Worse, I somehow think I’m able to play both of their parts at the same time. Thus, the reason I purchased a 3D printer. I felt I could design stuff, use the printer to engineer the stuff, and sell said stuff for a profit. In essence, for all my looking at the world as the middleman, I’ve decided I don’t need the middleman.

This is a bad plan all around. When I think like the customer, I’m the idiot engineer who can’t do anything. Contrary-wise, when I’m acting the engineer, I’m the stupid customer who wants it all. In simple terms, no matter how I look at my life, I hate myself. Then disaster struck.

… My 3D printer

My 3D printer broke down. Both sides of me wanted the hide of the other, and were blaming them for the work stoppage. Do you know how hard it is to negotiate with the other side when you can essentially read the other’s mind? I was so angry I didn’t talk to myself for weeks. It took my wife’s stepping in as arbitrator just to get both sides back on track. In other words, she yelled and I listened.

Now you must remember, I bought my printer two years ago, and even then, it was on clearance. So, I’ve been working with old technology. But it was my old technology, and I knew how to use it. It all ended up just like my kids. I knew how to change diapers, and sooth them when they were babies. Then they turned into teenagers, and I’m stuck not having a whole new skill set. I’m clueless about what to do. Of course, they’re clueless as well so it all works out. But I digress.

… My knowledge of current technology

Anyway, I went to the store and asked for a new My lack of current tech printer, and was accosted with a million questions I couldn’t answer. All I could do was look like an idiot and say, “Uh, I want a cheap one.” Sadly, even the cheap one had four models to choose from. The guy asked if I wanted to stay in the same family. I thought about some of my weirder relations, and almost said I’d change families. Then I remembered strange people give the best Christmas presents. I said I’d stick with the family I had. He asked if I would like to take a step up? I looked at the goofy looking box in front of me, decided it really wouldn’t support my weight, and said no.

He asked if I wanted it open or enclosed? I was completely confused, and asked what was the difference. He told me the open one had a bigger table. I said I didn’t need a table; I already had a desk to put it on. He said the table was part of the machine. I was indignant. My wife would kill me if I came home with more furniture and didn’t ask her. Finally, I swallowed my pride and ask if they had someone who spoke Old Person.

But I founf someone who understands

I was told to speak to Paul. He asked sensible questions like when I graduated high school, if I was a dog or cat person, and if I knew which short cartoon Bugs Bunny first appeared in? By the way it’s A Wild Hare, released in 1940 and directed by Tex Avery. These are questions I can answer.

Paul took all this information to heart, thought for a moment, picked a certain model and proclaimed, “This is the one you want.” I bought it happily, took it home with pride, put it together with confidence, and broke it within the first half-hour.

Regrettably, it didn’t come with paperwork, except for the warranty information which was written in Chinese, and a bunch of stickers proclaiming, “I Am A Maker!” They were misinformed. I’m a destroyer.

I am a destroyer

I returned it to the store, and asked to speak to Paul. He wasn’t there. Another gentleman told me what I did wrong. I needed to go to Youtube.com and watch the videos the Chinese card told me to. He gave me a new printer and sent me on my way with a list of videos.

I watched. The programs were just two hands happily doing all the right things. Unfortunately, these hands were much younger than mine, and moving fast. I got some of the content, but still broke the second one within a week. Eventually, between the speed of the videos and the slowness of my brain. I destroyed six printers of two different models. They kept taking them back, and giving me new ones.

A new carreer?

Eventually, we made a deal. They’d give me printers, and If I couldn’t destroy them in a week, they’d contact the manufactures, and give the thumbs up.

I may not be the maker I wanted, but I make a great QC engineer.

You see, everything always works out, eventually!