Average Joe: Help! My kitchen is revolting

It’s a typical evening at my home after a remote workday; I’m just finishing my shift, and it’s time to dash up the steps from my basement office and get dinner started.

But the scene on my kitchen counter stops me in my tracks. Nearly all of the small appliances are huddled. Staring at me. Waiting for me.

The toaster oven has decided to wear a pair of Sally Jessy Raphael eyeglasses for the occasion, and it is glaring out over the top of them.

“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you,” it says to me. ‘Hold on just a sec; we’re still getting set up.”

“Am I in trouble?” I inquire, only vaguely aware that I am talking to household objects.

“Shhhh. Just be patient.”

The toaster over nudges the coffee maker, which signals to the microwave that it’s time to scroll out a banner they’ve prepared for the occasion. They do this slowly, deliberately — watching my face for a reaction.

The sign reads: “INTERVENTION.”

“What is the meaning of this?” I demand.

“So glad you asked,” says the Crock Pot. “It’s time to make something very clear to you. It’s about the new kid on the block.”

New kid? What new kid? I take a quick head count of the restlessly chatting huddle. Joining the others on the countertop are the electric carving knife, the mini chopper, the electric griddle, the food processor… looks like the gang’s all here, except…

I turn around, and there, alone, on the opposite counter stands the air fryer.

The air fryer doesn’t say a word. And the toaster oven speaks up again.

“You see, we’ve been watching you. You’re playing favorites. Ever since this one got here, we’ve all been feeling a little bit…”

“Neglected,” the Crock Pot shouts out. “What happened to you and me? It just feels like, I don’t even know who you are these days. You don’t bring me flour anymore!”

“Aww, that’s not true; I still cherish each of you!”

“Really? You love the air fryer so much that you even gave it a nickname!”

“Oh, you mean Frylo Ren? Well, yeah, you’ve got to admit it sort of resembles the helmet of that newer Star Wars baddie!”

“No, you only give nicknames to your favorite appliances,” the carving knife says in a huff. My eyes nervously dart to the electrical outlet to make sure it’s not plugged in.

“The new refrigerator, you mean? I didn’t nickname it “Fridgerton” — my wife did! Why, I’m pretty sure I’ve got nicknames for all of you!”

“Oh yeah? What’s mine?” Crock Pot wants to know. I pause for a second. Think fast, Joe.

“Aww, Crockie, you know I love you!”

“What a bunch of baloney,” it responds. “You just made that up. I rue the day you brought that air fryer into the kitchen. It hasn’t moved from that spot since it got here.”

I turn around and look again. The air fryer remains absolutely silent.

Toaster oven takes over again. “Is there nothing you won’t try to air fry? Burgers. French fries. Salmon. Asparagus. Baked potatoes. Cauliflower poppers. You made a chocolate ganache cake from scratch in that thing. You’ve never made a cake from scratch in your whole life before the air fryer entered the picture!”

“Oh, gee whiz; somebody help me out here. Microwave, don’t I still use you all the time?”

“What? I’m not suddenly ‘Mikey’ to you now? Harumph! Oh, and that’s just the rub; you do still use me all the time. And I just feel so… used. Unappreciated. Not like your superstar Frylo over there.”

“How about you, coffee maker? You’re still batting first in the lineup every day!”

"Doesn’t matter. When there’s something brewing with the rest of them, I tend to get pretty percolated myself. Solidarity!”

This little crowd is now worked up into a froth, all of them complaining and pointing at the air fryer and me. The jealousy is so palpable that I can just hear the tail end of Crock Pot counseling the mini chopper to calm down, something about taking the high road and needing “to resist the urge to bite the hand that feeds you.”

“Look, everyone,” I plead. “What’s it going to take to make things peaceable around here again?

“For starters, don’t you forget about us. We’re like your Breakfast Club,” the griddle instructs.

“Fair enough,” I respond. “I’ll really try to do a better job of spreading the love around. Anything else?”

“You’ve got to make a space in the cabinet and put the air fryer away when you’re done, just like you do for the rest of us who don’t see everyday use,” toaster oven counsels.

“But that’s extra work at the end of a long day,” I whine. “And I’ve been using the air fryer almost every day since my sister-in-law gave it to us.”

“Joe…” the gathering groans in unison.

“OK, OK, you win. I’ll make cabinet space for the air fryer."

A cheer of celebration rings out across the kitchen. I decide it’s better to not even tell them about the Belgian waffle iron that I just ordered online.

All remains silent, meanwhile, on the counter behind me.

The air fryer still doesn’t say a word.

Well, of course it doesn’t. Air fryers don’t talk, silly!

When he isn’t toiling away as the Beacon Journal metro editor, you can occasionally find Joe Thomas musing about everyday life as the Average Joe. Reach him at jthomas@thebeaconjournal.com

This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Average Joe: Air fryer sparks uprising among jealous kitchen gadgets