Why is Simple Sometimes Not So Simple?

Is it me? 

Am I so techno-mechanical dumb that a step-by-step simple task turns out to be, for me, not so simple? At times an item supposedly user-friendly and easy to assemble morphs into an undertaking difficult to complete or never accomplished. How many gray hairs and sparse spots exist on my head because I pulled out my hair as discouragement bordering on madness displaced by a mindset established by ‘user-friendly and easy’ propaganda?

Is it my age, my intellectual limitations, my untrained eye, my unscientific brain?

Simple is too often not so simple for me. Ads tout uncomplicated, trouble-free directions, few parts, stress-free, minimal assembly time – only two minutes to put together and ready to use!

Two minutes in what universe? Not the one I live in.

A recent misadventure that led to my descent into disappointment, disillusionment, and near-disaster occurred this week…

On beaches across the country this summer, canopies arise like weeds in the sand. Owners extract the item from a bag, and in a couple of blinks of an eye they set their chairs underneath the canopy, ready to enjoy a day devoted to sun, sand, water, and relaxation. Could it be that effortless, straightforward and trouble-free?

Apparently so for every canopy owner but me.

I am not a sun worshipper, so the idea of a shaded beach day appealed. I perused the canopy company website, purchased a design on sale, and two days later a UPS driver threw a long, rectangular box on my porch.

A fun, leisurely beach day was at hand!

Or so I naively believed.

Hub and I dragged the canopy, nestled in a white carrying bag with a loop to throw over your shoulder or carry in one hand, weighing anywhere from 8 to 12 pounds depending on what size purchased and online reviews skimmed; along with beach chairs, water, books, phones, and towels, to our destination. 

First mistake. As we trudged along I reassured hub that he wouldn’t have to haul everything home. I would walk back to the house and drive down to the beach so we could pack all our stuff into the car. The canopy bag proved too hefty for us 70-somethings to effortlessly carry. We used to own a beach chariot, but after years of use it broke down last year and tossed it out. Another may be purchased, but I will probably wait until the end of the season and pick one up on sale.

Second mistake. Attempting to set up the canopy in the wind.

It wasn’t windy when we left the house, but the wind kicked up as we approached the water.

Third mistake. I ignored the maxim: insanity is trying the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome, and tried and retried to erect the canopy. The four-step, easy-to-follow directions appeared simple, but I couldn’t proceed beyond step three. I was up against three adversaries: the wind, never having set up a canopy before, and my incompetence in assembling anything.

I gave up but then had to crush the canopy and stuff it back in the bag—theoretically another easy task. I grunted I groaned I squished I pushed until mission accomplished. I briefly considered leaving the thing in the sand for someone savvier than me to use, but the item was too expensive ($199, including tax and shipping) to abandon.

Back home my neighbor happened to be outside. I approached and sheepishly asked, “Paul, the next time you’re at the beach, can you help me put up my new canopy?” “Sure,” he said, “anytime.” “Thanks, I responded, “but I should learn to do it myself.” “No problem, it’s easy and you’ll get the hang of it.”

He has no idea what he signed on for. How long will it take to teach me a ‘simple’ task?