So my neighbor contacts me via email with a request: “Do you have a bathroom scale I can borrow.” Now it’s not everyday that someone wants asks to use my bathroom scale. “Sure thing, I reply. I’ll bring it right over.”
I offered to bring it over so I could find out 1.) why he didn’t use his own bathroom scale, or 2.) why he didn’t have his own bathroom scale, and 3.) what he needed to weigh.
He’s a retired chemical engineer in his mid 60s, so the man is always tinkering, creating projects to keep himself busy. He designed and installed his own garden and potted plant irrigation dripper system, for example. During the torrid summer just passed when Austin broke every heat record in history, it worked flawlessly and none of his herbs and flowers died.
I step outside my front door and see that his garage door is open. Must be working on another project, I think to myself. This could prove interesting. As I amble up to his work area, I observe a 2x4x12 piece of wood and a large bulging black canvass bag laying on its side.
“Brian!” he greets me with genuine affection and enthusiasm. He turns to the canvas bag, bends over and begins to bring it upright. In the process, a spiked shoe and a small umbrella fall out. He lays the bag back down while I pick the items up and hand them to him. He put them back in the bag and zips it up, but not before I see that there’s a golf bag inside. It’s a travel bag.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
As he steps onto my mechanical bathroom scale to weigh himself, he explains that he and his wife are headed to North Carolina for a week to vacation with friends. “150 pounds,” he observes. Yes, my neighbor is a slight, bright fellow.
He retrieves the canvas bag and returns to the scale. It’s so large, it blocks his view of the scale, so I give him directions and he eventually steps onto the scale and centers himself. Of course, he can’t read the wheel, so I bend low and say “197 pounds.”
“Whew,” he exhales as he carefully backs off the scale, “the bag weighs 47 pounds. Another four pounds and I’d be paying Delta a $90 fee.”
“You need to fly Southwest,” I remarked, “because bags fly free.”
“I’m using frequent flyer miles, so I had to go Delta. They already charged me for transferring miles to my wife’s account so she had enough miles for a not-so-free ticket. I did not want to pay a baggage fee, too.”
“Makes sense to me, and I don’t blame you. So what’s with the 2x4?”
“I was going to make my own scale. I still might,” he exclaimed with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. I was short on time, so I didn’t invite him to explain. Did I mention he loves projects?
There was only one question left. “I’m curious…what’s up with your bathroom scale?”
“We don’t have one. My wife hated the sight of it and she complained it was always in the way. I gave it to Goodwill years ago.”
I chuckled to myself. His wife is six feet tall and thin as a rail. Truth is, neither of them need a scale…except when they’re trying to avoid an exorbitant baggage fee imposed by the airlines.
As I walked back home, I thought to myself, “Hmm, maybe there’s a business opportunity here: a personal luggage scale for travelers (who don’t or can’t fly Southwest) to help them avoid baggage fees.” If I need a model, I know just who to turn to.
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