Today we look in on our happy homeowner as he prepares to install smoke detectors in his house.
There he stands in the store before multiple shelves filled with detectors of various shapes, sizes and prices. He is scratching his head in confusion, trying to decide which ones to buy. As he plummets into an abyss of bafflement, his scratching increases. Soon, his fingernails claw at his face, his neck, his nose. His back.
He develops a glaze over his eyes as he attempts to assess the quality of his life, wondering if what is left of it is worth $12.99, $14.99 or $23.99. There are so many choices. One alarm is so sensitive it beeps at the mere mention of the word smoke. Another is so keen it goes off if there’s a fire anywhere in the neighbourhood. A deluxe model has a big light on it so the homeowner can see the fire. Flames, after all, are so hard to see in the dark. It also has a computerized voice that yells: “Get outa bed, ya big dummy! Your house is on fire!“
Realizing his life is probably half over by now anyway, he decides the deluxe model would be an extravagance and finally chooses the medium-priced alarm. And, after all, he is not a duke or a prime minister. He buys two of them and heads for home.
An hour later, he has succeeded in getting his new smoke detectors out of their cardboard boxes and plastic wrapping. There they lay on the kitchen table, all shiny and new and ready to start detecting. Various tools from power drills to screwdrivers and hammers are brought from the basement and scattered about the room. In the homeowner’s hands is a lengthy sheet of instructions written by space-shuttle scientists from NASA in their spare time. As he reads, he scratches.
“Insert enclosed battery into alarm and press test button. Alarm will beep.” He inserts. He presses. He waits for the alarm to beep. It doesn’t. He does. He scratches. He drives to the store to buy new batteries. He mutters.
“Locate on ceiling, at least six inches away from closest wall, no more than 12 feet away from farthest wall and no more than 26 feet away from nearest alarm.” He sits on the floor with tape measure, slide rule and calculator. He scratches. He almost cries.
Standing on a chair, he drills holes in his ceiling and installs the first alarm in his kitchen. Stepping down he admires his work and then takes another look at the instructions. “Do not install an alarm in a kitchen where smoke from cooking might set off device frequently.”
He says, “Oh no!” and other things like that.
Much later, both smoke detectors are installed and ready to go to work. He lights a candle, blows it out and holds the smoking wick up to one of the alarms. Smoke pours into every opening in the device and curls up around the sides. Rather than beep in protest, the alarm appears to enjoy it.
He tries again. Still no beep. “This thing wouldn’t go off if I threw it down a chimney,” he thinks to himself, as he contemplates burning down his house with the smoke alarms in it. He is almost upset. Finally, a chirp escapes from the device, barely loud enough to wake a bird.
“Good enough,” he says.
The next day, while explaining the previous night’s activities to a friend, he is told that what he really needs now is a fire extinguisher. Back at the store, he stands before multiple shelves filled with extinguishers of various shapes, sizes and prices. They range from a small one recommended for putting out cigarettes to one which can handle a small forest fire. Some are refillable. Some are not. Some have pressure gauges. Some don’t. He scratches. His skin is raw.
“May as well just buy a firetruck and park it in the driveway,” he thinks to himself.
But he won’t. He wouldn’t know what colour to get.
(Update 2020: A fire inspector explained that the worst thing a homeowner can do is blow smoke into a detector to test it. It ruins the device. The proper way to test it is to push the little button and wait for the screech. Oh, well.)
©1989 Jim Hagarty
