I learned today that power tools have trust issues, sandpaper is mean, and my uncle enjoys watching me struggle way more than he should. I was helping him in the garage because he said it was time I learned how to build something “the right way.”
Those words should have been a warning. The project seemed simple enough: a wooden shelf. Just a board. A few measurements. Some screws. How hard could it be? Apparently, very.

The first problem was getting everything lined up. I thought it looked straight. My uncle looked at it, tilted his head, and immediately said, “Nope.” I asked how he could tell. He said, “Experience.” Which is a very annoying answer. Then came the drill.
Now, I have used one before, but somehow this one felt heavier. Louder. More determined to make me look ridiculous.
My uncle showed me where to place the tip and told me not to force it. “Let the tool do the work.” I nodded like I understood.
I did not understand. The second I squeezed the trigger, the drill slipped sideways and made a mark exactly where it was not supposed to go. My uncle laughed so hard he had to put his coffee down. “Easy, Tegan,” he said. “You’re pushing too hard,” I informed him that the drill was clearly defective. He informed me that the drill was fine. We disagreed. After that, he stood beside me and showed me how to keep a steady grip. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just enough control to guide it where it needed to go.
“Feel that?” he asked. “That’s what happens when you stop fighting it.” Unfortunately, he was right. The drill moved smoothly. The screw slid into place. Everything suddenly worked exactly the way it was supposed to.

I hate when that happens. By the end of the afternoon, the shelf was actually standing. Straight, sturdy, and only slightly damaged by my earlier attempts at helping. The garage smelled like sawdust and fresh wood, and tiny curls of sanding dust covered my shoes. My hands were sore, my hair was a mess, and my uncle looked way too pleased with himself. He said I learn fast. I said that was because I had a good teacher. Then I immediately reminded him that the crooked hole near the bottom was a design choice. He laughed.
I think he knew I was lying.
— Tegan”