The Ergonomic Enigma

The box arrived, proclaiming 'Effortless Assembly!' in a font that screamed passive aggression. My parents, Barry and Susan, scoffed. They’d conquered many flat-pack mountains, from the 'Bjorn' shelving unit to the 'Inga' coffee table, usually emerging victorious, if slightly bruised emotionally. This time, it was an 'Omni-Comfort 5000' ergonomic office chair for my perpetually slouched son, Kevin.

'Right,' Barry announced, brandishing the Allen wrench like a tiny, chrome sword. 'Divide and conquer. Susan, you read the instructions. I'll... supervise the parts.' Susan, a woman whose patience reserves were usually depleted by noon, sighed, unfolding the multi-language diagram that resembled an ancient map to a forgotten treasure.

Within ten minutes, the treasure hunt turned into an archaeological dig. 'Did you check under the cat?' Susan asked, peering over her reading glasses. 'Because it explicitly states there should be four 'Type B' washers, and I have three and a half. And no, darling, a flattened Cheerios isn't a substitute.'

Barry, meanwhile, was attempting to attach the armrests upside down for the third time. 'It just feels more... intuitive this way!' he insisted, his face a mask of determined delusion. Kevin, from the safety of the sofa, offered helpful suggestions like, 'Maybe it's meant to be abstract art?' or 'It looks like it's trying to escape.'

Two hours, three 'discussions' about the philosophical implications of 'lefty-tighty, righty-loosey,' and one near-divorce over a misplaced screw later, the chair stood. Or rather, listed slightly to the left, with one armrest at a jaunty, unexpected angle. Barry proudly presented it. 'There! Omni-Comfort 5000, ready for ergonomic bliss!'

Kevin approached it cautiously. He sat down. The chair immediately reclined with an alarming squeak, propelling him backward until his feet were pointing at the ceiling. 'I think it's achieved omni-comfort *and* zero gravity,' he muffled, upside down. Barry and Susan exchanged a look. Another flat-pack mountain conquered, another family memory forged in the fires of domestic engineering.