Mechanical Aptitude

I have no mechanical aptitude. I do not even know what it means. In high school, I scored in the bottom ten percent of students nationally in this category. I was in the bottom five percent when the results were sorted by males only. I am not even sure why we were tested for this. My scores did not prevent me from working a factory night shift as a Plumber’s Aid. I literally began my career as a plunger. The hard nosed supervisor, a scrapper promoted up from the floor, asked me to unscrew a panel from the water fountain so he could show me how to clean and flush the system. I was flustered under pressure. After I turned the screwdriver the wrong way for awhile, he suggested I try counterclockwise. He quickly decided servicing water fountains was too high tech for me and assigned me to clean paint booths for the next few months. When I left to attend college, he seemed conflicted about why he was saving money to send his kids to college. My wife still has to remind me how to use a screwdriver by reciting, “lefty loosey, righty tighty.” But I get confused and find myself mumbling, “lefty hefty, righty mighty.” Years later when I was being fingerprinted, the law enforcement person rolling my fingers looked at my hands with disdain and said, “Never worked a day in your life.” I wanted to correct him with tales of my salad days as a Plumber’s Aid but I took the high road and just nodded.