Alright folks, buckle up because this one’s a trip. So I had this chunk of oak timber lying around my garage for like, what, two years? Big heavy thing, all rough edges. Kept tripping over the damn piece. Figured it was finally time to do something stupid with it.

The “Why Not?” Moment

Saw my kid’s old plastic dance pad stuffed behind the toolbox. You know, one of those cheap foam ones that light up? It was dusty and probably last used when Obama was president. And the timber was just… there. Right then, thought: “Can I make this stupid pad control the timber? Make it shuffle or something?” Absolutely brain-dead idea. Started anyway.

The Messy Setup

First, ripped open the dance pad. Snapped the cheap plastic casing open easy enough – didn’t even need tools, just yanked. Wires everywhere inside like spaghetti. Grabbed my big power drill, wobbling ’cause it’s ancient. Drilled four fat holes into the oak timber’s corners. Felt like carving concrete, arm shaking halfway through. Sawdust flew everywhere. Didn’t wear goggles. Big mistake. Eyes stung for hours.

Then came the fun part: trying to hook the pad’s squishy foam buttons under the timber.

Struggled hard:

• Taped the button sensors upside down onto my workbench.
• Shoved the timber over them.
• Stepped on the timber like it owed me money.
• Nothing happened. Just dead silence. Felt like a total dumbass.

Wiring Nightmares

Tore the entire pad apart after that. Exposed all the tiny copper ribbons connecting the buttons. Had to scrape off nasty glue crap with a kitchen knife. Almost sliced my thumb open twice. Stuck thick jumper wires onto the ribbons with duct tape because all my soldering stuff rusted solid last summer. Wires kept falling off. Kicked the timber out of pure rage. Shocked myself touching some exposed metal bit. Saw stars. Cursed for a solid minute straight.

It Kinda… Happens?

Sweating bullets now. Ran the wires over to this little plastic toy car I took apart last Christmas. Taped two to the car’s motor contacts. Grabbed a pathetic 9V battery I found buried under my couch. Clipped it on. Held my breath. Stood on the timber.

The timber shifted. Not graceful. Not dancing. More like a spasm. It shuddered maybe three inches sideways. Made a horrible grinding noise like nails on a chalkboard. One corner scraped a chunk off my concrete floor. Then the wire connections snapped and it died again.

The Harsh Truth

So yeah. “Pad dancing oak timber.” It worked… if you call jerking like a dying fish “dancing.” Total waste of an afternoon. Timber’s got ugly drill holes now. Pad’s trash. Floor’s scratched. My elbow’s bleeding from bumping into a shelf.

Why even tell you this?

Because last week my manager emailed about “innovative team projects.” Dead serious. Attached a PowerPoint demanding ideas that “disrupt with synergy.” Remembered laughing out loud. Felt angry. Then remembered this lumber twitching on my garage floor. Corporate innovation feels just like that damn timber project. Takes forever, hurts like hell, makes noise, barely moves an inch, and leaves everything worse than before. They paid some consultant big bucks to preach that synergy crap too. Probably spent more on one latte than my whole busted pad cost.