KEY POINTS:
DIY has gone too far. I know New Zealanders think they're the DIY champions of the world, but I like to buy my furniture and home-wares ready-made.
At this time of the year, when Christmas has presented Dad those new shelves, Mum a new sideboard, plus assorted bits
and bobs for other family members, the suburbs are alive with the sound of hammering, sawing, screwing, cursing and the frustrated flinging of failed furniture creations into the nearest skip.
Why is it that you can't buy anything larger than a wooden bath mat without having to carry it home in a box, then try and put all the bits together with nothing but a scrap of paper written in Chinese, arrows pointing every which way, to guide us in our newly found hobby - that is, carpentry. Instructions? Hell, these are merely suggestions. I'm sure the workers in the Chinese sweat factories get their revenge for being paid the equivalent of 10 cents an hour by deliberately putting us crook.
It's clever consumerism, as we then need to purchase a tool set, with crescent, all manner of screwdrivers, hammer, electric drill and better get a saw as well, in case board A doesn't exactly align with plank B.
A compost bin (proudly made in New Zealand) I bought from Placemakers, for example, assured me no tools were needed for assembly. However, without my trusted Swiss army knife to remove moulded plastic from holes where the lugs clipped the thing together, I'd still be burying scraps for the dog to dig up.
Take the new shelving from Target (or Targé, as it's pronounced in Ponsonby, with a soft g). They've been hammered, kicked, turned upside down and inside out, and they still don't look anything like what was offered for sale in the showroom. They were only $20, but wouldn't you rather pay $40 and not waste a week going ballistic trying to assemble them?
At least our local Mitre 10 advertises that for between $20 and $100 an assembly service is available. Heaven knows what my new kitset trailer would have looked like if I'd had to make that up.
This trend puzzles me. A friend says it's the way of business, that space is premium and retailers can't afford high rents and have stuff sitting around. Excuse me, but I thought that's what shops are supposed to be. Silly old-fashioned me.
But that would also explain why many furniture shops don't actually have the item for you to take home immediately. It must be ordered in and could take weeks. Like the outdoor table and chairs we ordered in December from an Early Settler Christmas Dining Solutions catalogue - be quick not to miss these last-minute dining solutions for in or outdoor entertaining! We're still awaiting the call to say our table is ready. Oh well, they didn't say which Christmas, but I hope when they warned it may not arrive until January, they meant 2008.
When I go shopping for a new dress I don't choose something from the rack, then cart home a length of material, cotton, zip, buttons with instructions on how to sew it all together. I don't have to then buy a sewing machine, scissors, tape measure et al in order to arrive at owning what I elected to possess.
And if trailers can arrive in kitset form, how far away is the kitset car? Vehicle dealers pay some of the dearest rents in town, but you don't see ordinary folk walking out of a car yard with boxes under their arm, eager to put spread the contents all over the lawn and ensure the headlights are in the right place, the gear box fits just so, and the wheels are aligned. Not unless they're as mad as Jeremy Clarkson from Top Gear.
I blame New Zealand men and their crazy obsession with bits of No 8 wire. Despite the fact that, in my experience, women are actually more practical than men, most Kiwi blokes insist they can DIY anything. (Look at how they behave when the barbecue comes out.)
When the table legs are on upside down, the bookcase shelves have been inserted without the use of a level, and the bed nailed to the wall to keep it upright, they stand back expecting a medal for their handiwork.
No way would they return the pieces to the shop and admit defeat. Women, on the other hand, aren't too proud to acknowledge their mistakes and use the pile of munted furniture for kindling, buy what someone has already assembled, or pay a professional to do it. Doubt me? Why then, is there an outfit called Hire a Hubby but not one called Hire a Wife?