Just call me Handywoman Jennifer

Beastocity: 20 (really a beastocity of like 3 but the shock adds 17)

Ever heard of a Mayline? It’s a straightedge that attaches to your desk via screws and wires that can roll up and down. Well I know how to install one. And drill holes.

I’m no stranger to power tools. I’ve grown up doing boat maintenance alongside my dad and seen many a hole drilled and a thing installed (and sometimes done it myself) but I was still shocked today. Yesterday one of the architects asked me about these Mayline things and I brought some old ones up from storage. I told him I’d never installed one before (which really means I’ve never used one and therefore have no idea how they work). So he was going to check it out and see if we had the necessary hardware etc. It turned out we did and I told him to holler if he needed a hand. He comes back, says alls a go and that all that is needed is a power driver. I get power driver and come to his desk then…. Shock. He briefly explains what goes where, puts the correct driver bit in the contraption, collects his drawings and leaves.

I was in such shock. Um…. Does this mean I’m supposed to install this? Young, little Jennifer? Not old, seasoned architect man who makes buildings? Guess so, after all I kind of am the random office person whose job description is a mix between home ec and handyman (hence the man part there- often I realize why this is the first time they’ve had a woman in this job position, this was one of them).

So the next two minutes were a mix of sweat and quick synapse-firing all with the background music of “what the hell am I doing?” So I try out the power screwdriver and find it won’t go through the formica tabletop. Suddenly- a thought. Hmmm maybe I need to drill a hole first! But since seasoned architect man didn’t say anything about it, I’m more confused than when I started. So what do I do? I use a lifeline. Two desks away sits the real office handyman, Dean. Luckily we are good friends because I deliver people’s packages and he orders a lot and loves to get packages. He kind of does this funny flip from a 45 year old man to a 12 year old boy when he gets packages (especially when they’re from his mom in Hawaii sending him snacks, then it’s more like 8 year old boy). Point is, we’re tight. I swing by and off handedly ask if I needed to screw into the table top if I need a drill. He says it would be easier so… drill it is! I continue with my task, trying to look as at ease and confident as I can: finding a drill bit, taking out the old screw bit, replacing the drill, drilling into the table (eek!), then realizing I need to get the drill bit out of the table (another perk from watching dad), switching bits, putting the screw in (adjusting something that I see my dad adjust when the screw proves difficult to go in), and then figuring out the maze of wires that makes this thing work.

With the commotion (by that I mean uncharacteristic drill noises and maybe my internal background music is starting to become audible by now) Dean comes by to check on me, gives me some pointers and says I’m missing some hardware. Few seconds later he’s back with all the stuff I need and tells me I’m doing a good job.

Four holes and three screws later (one hole was in the wrong place) I’ve gotten it all put together! Luckily not many people were around at the time so I didn’t disturb too many people. Moral is: I’m very honored that they trust me with something like that (even though it’s just a formica table) and glad that traditional gender roles were broken.

Just call me Handywoman Jennifer.