The guy that sits in the cubicle next to mine at work is one of the top two power lifters in the world for his weight class. Power lifters do only three lifts; the bench press, the squat, and lifting weight from the ground to the height of your waist (whatever that one’s called). He’s not a big guy, probably under six feet in height and only 180 lbs, but he can throw around mass like a fat guy just off a diet throws around bon bons. It’s amazing.
This morning, a lady that we work with turned her chair over to fix a broken wheel. She asked me to help her take off the old wheel so that she could replace it with the new one. I tried to get it off, but thought that there was no way it would actually come off without some special tool to trigger a release of some sort. But I had an idea. I would see if the power lifter who sits next to me could help. He came in and, after looking at the wheel for a moment, popped it right off like a cherry stem.
I was embarrassed. I’ve become “that” guy who, like a little girl, needs help opening his own mayonnaise jars.
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This is Katie, on John's computer; try having to ask your 12 year old son to open a jar for you; my arthritis makes my hands swell in the morning, so they have no power with which to open things or button or tie. My kids have had to learn to open jars, tie their shoes and button their shirts because of those inconvenient fingers-but mostly I feel like a whimpy dork who needs a kid to help her out!
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