Caution, Not for the Fainthearted!—-For “Mature” Audiences
Hi, My name is Kent, and I’m a tool addict ( I know, it’s cheesy and overused, but what can I say)
My problem started at a very early age. The best I can remember, I was about 12 years old. My dad had a woodworking shop so naturally I was exposed to the “lifestlye” early on. It would be real easy to blame him, but now I have come to realize my own responsibility for my actions. He didn’t seem to have the same stuggle that I’ve had. It’s amazing how some of us can get hooked so quickly, while others can simply walk away from tools any time they wish.
It all started so innocently. One day I was playing in the shop and, and there it was. Just laying there. It was only a Stanley block plane. Not worth a lot, or in very good shape, but yet it called out to me. Of course, my curiosity got the best of me. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I should have just walked away. How different would my life be now? Maybe I could have actually become something other than a “woodworker”. But no, I had to pick it up, to hold it, even to caress it. I couldn’t stop. The plane seemed to be calling out to me. I knew I should walk away, but yet somehow it seemed so “right”! Hopefully my story will help you before it’s too late. When you touch that first tool, you must understand the heartbreak you’re setting yourself up for.
Very quickly things got out of hand. The more I used tools, the more I had to have. The expense wasn’t too bad at first. at that age I could use my fathers tools. But soon that wasn’t enough. I had to have my own tools, something I didn’t have to share with anyone. I had to do drastic things to support my habit. I even found myself Working! How low had I come, and in such a short time. But yet the more I worked, the more tools I thought I must have. As an adult , my problem got totally out of control. I hid my purchases from my wife. I juggled the books at work so no one would know I was buying tools for my own personal satisfaction. Called all of it a “Business Expense”
Then it really got out of control. I began getting catalogs in the mail. You know how “they” are. They intice you with promises of better, faster, more power, even prettier. Of course by then I was so hopelessly drawn in to the lifestyle, I just didn’t care anymore. Addictions will do funny things to you. It started with Stanley, but soon that didn’t satisfy. I knew I had lost it when I got my first Bridge City Toolworks catalog. Wow, if I only had those, I could forever be content. Of course I was for a while, until the mail came again. Oh, how will I ever pay for it. My despair deepens. Again “They” have it all figured out——Credit cards!!!! Then that well dries up (or maxes out) What do I do now?—-You guessed it, I had to become a dealer to support this hopeless habit. I doubt the madness will ever end!!!!!!!
In my pitiful condition even all my family became enablers. They contributed to my weakness in an effort to keep me pacified. Oh how awefull I’ve become. Is there help for me, and others in my sad state. I’m calling out for help, and it seems as though no one cares. Is there a support group for people like me.
Is anybody listening?????
-- She thought I hung the moon--now she just thinks I did it wrong