Springfield, OR – In an extraordinary act of selflessness and technical prowess, local father Greg Thompson, 47, successfully adjusted the microwave clock for Daylight Savings Time before anyone in the household even woke up.
“I didn’t do it for the recognition,” Greg humbly stated, holding a steaming cup of coffee while gazing out the window like a war hero returning from battle. “I did it because someone had to.”
As the rest of the family groggily emerged from their bedrooms Sunday morning, dazed and bewildered from the government-mandated theft of an hour, they were met with a miracle: the microwave clock was already correct. No blinking. No mysterious, incorrect time from six months ago. Just pure, unadulterated, correctly adjusted time.
“I don’t know how he does it,” said Greg’s wife, Lisa, shaking her head in admiration. “Twice a year, without fail, he battles that tiny, frustrating keypad with the patience of a saint. I assume he follows some ancient, mystical ritual passed down through generations of dads.”
Sources confirm that Greg had to press at least six different buttons before anything happened, including “Clock,” “Start,” and what appeared to be a completely unnecessary detour through “Popcorn.” Despite having no clear instructions and relying solely on gut instinct, muscle memory, and the sheer willpower of a man determined not to Google it, Greg emerged victorious.
“I honestly thought it was magic,” said 14-year-old daughter Emily. “I don’t even know why that clock exists. The only time I look at it is when my Hot Pockets are almost done.”
The younger Thompson children, aged 8 and 10, reportedly assumed that all clocks just magically updated themselves, like their iPads. When their father tried to explain that some clocks require manual adjustments, their eyes glazed over, and they returned to watching YouTube.
After completing the microwave clock, Greg went on to conquer the oven clock as well, using his veteran expertise to navigate its confusing button layout, which included separate settings for “Bake,” “Broil,” and “Timer.” When asked about the car clock, however, Greg became visibly distressed.
“Look, I’m not saying it’s impossible,” he sighed, staring out at his Honda Civic. “But I’ll need at least an afternoon, a YouTube tutorial, and my reading glasses to figure that one out.”
While the rest of the family carried on with their Sunday, unaware of the sacrifice made on their behalf, Greg sat back in quiet triumph, satisfied that his household had been spared the chaos of temporal disarray.
And though no one explicitly thanked him, Greg knew—deep down—that his heroism would not go unnoticed. Probably. Maybe.
“Well, at least I know what time it is,” he muttered to himself, sipping his now-lukewarm coffee.
At press time, Greg’s microwave had mysteriously reset to 00:00 after his 10-year-old attempted to heat up a Pop-Tart.
