Through my early teen years, I made money delivering newspapers on rollerblades. I’d gear up with a helmet, pads, and my trusty Walkman (or later, a yellow 128MB Rio mp3 player). I’d dance my way through the streets, with my heavy cloth paper-bag on one shoulder and music in my ears.
After a few years, I upgraded to some fancy new skates. I spent my hard-earned paper route money on a $150 pair of black K2s with red accents. They were glorious.
Some years later, I heard something snap, and my right strides were wobbly. The front screw of the right blade—the part that holds the wheels—seemed to have popped off. I looked at them briefly. Where was I going to find a replacement screw? It was the pre-internet 90s, so I put the skates in a box.
That box traveled with me for two decades: from home in Minnesota to college in Utah, then to Wisconsin for my first real job, and then back to Utah. Finally, while packing for our most recent move, I decided to see what needed fixing and order the parts I needed.
I took off two wheels with a hex wrench and was surprised to see that the missing screw was actually there and just needed to be tightened. I recalled that a tool had come with the original box. I found the tool, tightened the screw, and put them on, nervously rolling around our driveway. After a second tightening, I told my kids they should come try them out, and now they fight over who gets to have a turn with the rollerblades. All it took was a few minutes of work.
THE CRAZY THING IS: I could have solved the problem twenty years ago by grabbing the hex tool already in the box, had I done more than assume the problem would be hard to fix. It literally only took 30 seconds to solve a problem I had carried around with me for twenty years.
Moral: Don’t let problems become bigger than they are by assuming the amount of work required. Sit down, examine what’s wrong, and map out what tools you need and what needs to be done.
Sometimes, all it takes is thirty seconds.
Hugh Spackman, MBA, MHA 