Confessions of a packrat
Dennis Van Vliet · The Hearing Journal · 2004
Maybe it's because I grew up on a ranch with a big barn to keep stuff in, and a 5-acre avocado orchard to wander around. Maybe it's because my father kept all manner of extra lumber and hardware around in the event he ever needed a scrap of wood or a particular bolt or bracket. Whatever the cause, I am left with the curse of the packrat. At work or at home, I cannot find it easy to toss out a perfectly good…well, anything that is perfectly good, even if I don't have a use for it at the present time. One never knows when a toilet seat battery door from a 1986 Argosy hearing aid might be needed to rescue someone who should have replaced the hearing aid more than a decade ago. I find it particularly difficult to cast aside peripheral equipment that has no use any more, but was so important to me at the early crest of the technology wave. The original ReSound fitting system with the CD player was so cool when I opened that box more than a decade ago. It made me the first guy in the county to able to fit the new and innovative technology. Now it, and the subsequent generations of hand-held and desktop programming units from many manufacturers, are scattered around in closets and serving as doorstops because I don't have the heart to unceremoniously toss them in the dumpster. We can't even send them off to third-world countries; we'd set them back years! Software upgrades are another problem. Occasionally, the new version has a problem that makes it worse than the preceding one. If I automatically toss out the old one when a new one comes in, I risk getting caught without something I desperately need! A CABINET FULL OF SYSTEM DISKS Instead, I keep a cabinet full of Windows '95 system discs and untold outdated software fitting systems because I am paralyzed with the fear that I might need it someday. The ultimate example of my folly was the stand-alone software system and cables I kept because I had one patient with a first-generation digital hearing aid whose instrument I occasionally serviced. When the time came that I actually needed the software, it had become corrupted and didn't work! I know the old hardware and software issues are irrational, and I am trying to improve myself to the point that I don't give a second thought to throwing stuff away. It's difficult, and I might need the support of a peer group, maybe packrats anonymous. On the other hand, little things like battery doors, volume control knob covers, select-a-vent inserts, wax guards, acoustic filter inserts, tone hooks, replacement BTE cases, extra presentation cases and pouches and instruction booklets just might become necessary at any minute, and I won't give them up. I'm somehow comforted by the sight of all of those little bags and compartments chockful of little parts I might just need, one of these days. The reality is that a well-stocked office has the typical tubing, battery doors, and other consumables that are necessary for daily practice, but it also has the odd 3-mm Libby horn, 2200-ohm Knowles damper, and replacement left volume control assembly for a 1992 Siemens ITE. There has to be a balance between keeping everything and keeping only the stuff that helps us provide good customer service. Once a rational decision is made on what to keep (I'm not saying I'm there yet, but I'm working on it!), the next problem is how to store the parts for easy retrieval. The typical “parts cabinets” with the little plastic drawers are okay, but they drive me nuts because they are difficult to keep current labels attached to and do not always make it easy to see what is inside. I have used optometric parts boxes in the shape of a wheel with a clear lid. The lid allows easy visibility and access for the small parts, but it's hard to label. I think the best solution I've seen is to tape the parts in the clear bags that they came in onto the inside of a cabinet door at eye-level. This allows an easy scan of the parts inventory without need to rummage through a pile of bags stuffed in a drawer. The final word? I think I've convinced myself to clean out the software cabinet in the garage so that only current software is there and we'll be able to find what we need. Next week, I'll throw out that 1989 Ensoniq Sound-Selector programming module that has been collecting dust under the cabinet in the office for the past decade. I might even toss the 3M interface box. At the same time, I refuse to throw out the very things that allow me to bring the life back to a broken hearing aid the day before a “trip of a lifetime.” Like everything else, a well-equipped office follows a common sense rule used by Arnold O. Beckman, PhD (1900 – 2004): “Moderation in all things, including moderation.” Don't throw out the stuff you might need someday. Of course, figuring out what you might need is the hard thing.