It Never Worked. I Kept It Anyway: giving up too soon

There is a difference between something that can't work and something we have not yet learned how to make work.

Sometime in the 1990s, I bought a tabletop lighter at an antique store.

I think it cost about eight dollars, which was probably close to the full decorating budget for my first apartment. I did not know anything about it. I did not know who made it, when it was made or whether it was worth anything.

I just thought it looked cool.

It also did not work - I pushed the button a few times, got no flame and put it on a shelf.

Then I moved, and it went on another shelf. Over the next 30 years, it followed me from apartment to apartment and house to house. I packed it, unpacked it, dusted around it and occasionally picked it up and said to myself that "someday I wanna fix that."

Recently, I decided to figure out what it actually was.

I took pictures of it, including the markings underneath, and used ChatGPT to help identify it. It turned out to be an old Queen Anne tabletop lighter. Once I knew that, I started trying to understand how it worked and what it would take to repair it.

That led to me taking the whole thing apart.

The old flint was decomposed and stuck. The wick needed to be replaced. The strike wheel was crooked and The fuel system had to be cleaned out. Every time I thought I had found the problem, I discovered one more part that needed attention.

There was no single dramatic fix. It was a collection of small, uninteresting steps that all had to happen in the right order. Eventually, I put it back together, added fuel and pressed the button and -It lit!

I wish I could say it was some huge, emotional moment. Mostly, I stood there staring at a tiny flame and feeling much more satisfied than the situation probably deserved.

For 30 years, I had described that lighter as broken. That was not entirely true.

It needed a new flint, a new wick, fuel, cleaning and somebody willing to figure out how all the pieces worked together. I had never done any of that. I pushed the button, got no result and accepted the explanation that it didn't work.

It is easy to call something broken when you havn't fully tried to make it work.

We do that with more than old objects. We try something once or twice, do not get the result we hoped for and decide the whole idea is bad. Sometimes we skip a few steps without realizing those were the steps that made everything else possible. Then we say it didn't work.

Sometimes that conclusion is right. Plenty of things really are broken. Some ideas are bad, some plans are flawed and some old lighters are probably beyond saving. But there is a difference between something that can't work and something we have not yet learned how to make work.

The lighter is not suddenly priceless because it produces a flame. Restoring it did not uncover some lost family history. It is still an object I bought because I liked the way it looked when I had almost no money to spend.

That is probably why I kept it.

It came from the beginning of my adult life, when everything I owned had been chosen slowly because I could not afford to choose much. I did not know I was preserving a memory. I just knew I did not want to get rid of it.

Getting it working gave me another reason to keep it.

Now, when I look at it, I am reminded that “this doesn’t work” and “I haven’t done everything required to make it work” are not always the same thing and to always ask myself "Am I giving up too soon?"

FAQ Section: giving up too soon

Why did Patrick keep the lighter if it did not work?

Patrick bought the lighter for his first apartment when he had very little money. Although it did not work, it became connected to that early period of his adult life and followed him from home to home for roughly 30 years.

What was wrong with the tabletop lighter?

The lighter needed several small repairs rather than one major fix. The flint was stuck, the wick needed replacing, the fuel system needed cleaning and the lighter needed fresh fuel.

What is the main lesson of the story?

The story explores the difference between something being truly broken and something not working because the required process has not been completed. It is easy to judge an idea after one attempt without knowing whether we have actually given it a fair chance.

How does this connect to the July 22 episode of Seeking the Best?

The episode discusses real estate agents who decide geographic farming does not work after sending only one or two mail pieces. Like the lighter, the strategy may not be broken. The agent may simply not have completed the repetition, investment, follow-up and community-building required for it to produce results.

Does the story suggest people should keep trying everything forever?

No. Some objects, ideas and plans really do not work. The point is to make sure the conclusion is based on a genuine attempt rather than an incomplete process or a single disappointing result.