The Flathead Screw: Five Hundred Years of Slipping, Stripping, and Human Misery

Some inventions have moved humanity forward.

The printing press gave ordinary people access to knowledge. The telephone allowed us to speak across great distances. The automobile changed transportation. Air conditioning made it possible to live in Florida without bursting into flames.

Then there is the flathead screw.

The flathead screw has contributed nothing to civilization except stripped metal, scratched furniture, puncture wounds, profanity, and the sudden desire to throw a screwdriver through a window.

Before we go any further, the overly technical people among us will want me to clarify that what most of us call a "flathead screw" is actually a slotted screw. "Flat head" technically describes the shape of the screw's head, while "slotted" describes the single straight groove cut across it.

Thank you for that information, Kevin.

For the remainder of this article, I will call it a flathead screw because that is what normal people call it while bleeding.

Who Invented This Monstrosity?

I began researching the history of the flathead screw because I wanted to identify the sinister man responsible for it.

I pictured someone named Bartholomew Flathead.

In my imagination, Bartholomew was a bitter medieval craftsman who lived alone in a damp castle basement. He wore a black cloak, hated children, and spent his evenings developing minor inconveniences that would frustrate humanity for centuries.

One night, Bartholomew picked up a perfectly good metal fastener and said:

"What if I cut one shallow groove across the top so the tool can slide out in either direction?"

His assistant cautiously raised a hand.

"Sir, wouldn't the screwdriver constantly slip out, damage the screw, scratch the surrounding surface, and occasionally plunge directly into the user's hand?"

Bartholomew slowly smiled.

"Exactly."

Unfortunately, historians have been unable to identify one person who invented the slotted screw.

That is suspicious.

We know screws operated with flat-bladed tools appeared in Europe during the late Middle Ages, possibly as early as the late 1400s. They were initially used in expensive and specialized items such as suits of armor, firearms, clocks, and other precision equipment.

The original screwdriver was sometimes called a "turnscrew," which sounds less like a tool and more like something an executioner would use in a dungeon.

The slotted screw probably developed gradually instead of being invented by one particular person. That means Bartholomew Flathead may not have existed.

But I am not ready to rule him out.

A truly sinister inventor would make sure his name disappeared from the historical record.

Why Was It Invented?

To be fair—and I do not enjoy being fair to the flathead screw—the original design made some sense.

Medieval craftsmen did not have computerized machinery, precision stamping equipment, cordless drills, impact drivers, or a drawer containing 47 different bits, none of which is the one they currently need.

They were making screws by hand.

Cutting one straight slot into the top of a metal screw with a saw or file was relatively easy. Creating a perfectly shaped square, hexagon, star, or cross-shaped recess would have been much more difficult.

The slotted screw was simple to manufacture with the tools available at the time.

So, in approximately 1500, it was an understandable solution.

But so were outhouses.

We improved those.

The original inventor was not necessarily evil for creating the flathead screw. He was working with what he had.

The real villains are the manufacturers who continue putting flathead screws into packages today.

We have Robertson screws. We have Phillips screws. We have hex screws. We have Torx screws. We have screws specifically designed to stay attached to a driver instead of launching the tool toward the nearest finished surface.

Yet somewhere, at this very moment, a manufacturer is placing two flathead screws inside a plastic bag and including them with a $3,000 piece of furniture.

That is not an accident.

That is hostility.

The Fundamental Problem

A flathead screw has one straight slot.

That is it.

The screwdriver makes contact along one narrow channel that remains completely open on both sides. There is nothing to hold the tool in place. There is nothing to center it. There is nothing to prevent it from sliding sideways.

You must position the blade perfectly inside the slot, hold it at exactly the correct angle, apply continuous downward pressure, turn the screwdriver, stabilize the material, and somehow avoid damaging everything around you.

You essentially need the hand-eye coordination of a brain surgeon to attach a cabinet hinge.

If the screwdriver is slightly too narrow, it chews up the center of the slot.

If it is too wide, it will not fit.

If the blade is too thick, it will not fit.

If the blade is too thin, it slips out.

If you apply too little pressure, it slips.

If you apply too much pressure, it slips with greater enthusiasm.

Eventually, the slot becomes so damaged that the screw can no longer be turned by any known human tool. It is now a permanent part of the house.

You could tear down the wall, burn the building, and construct a new home on the property, but that screw would still be there.

It Is a Screw Designed to Reject the Screwdriver

Most useful tools are designed to stay connected to the object they operate.

A socket fits around a nut. A wrench grips a bolt. A drill bit sits inside the chuck. A key remains inside the lock while you turn it.

The flathead screw actively rejects its own tool.

You place the screwdriver in the slot.

The screw throws it out.

You put it back.

The screw throws it out again.

After five or six attempts, the relationship has become personal.

The flathead screw does not merely fail to cooperate. It waits until you apply maximum force and then releases the screwdriver at the exact moment necessary to cause the most damage.

The screwdriver never slips harmlessly toward an empty area.

It slips toward the freshly painted wall.

It slips across the antique table.

It slips into the electrical panel.

It slips directly into the soft piece of flesh you were using to hold the project steady.

A flathead screwdriver can sense vulnerability.

Then Humanity Invented Power Tools

The flathead screw was created during a period when every screw was driven slowly by hand.

Then we invented electric drills.

This should have been the end of the flathead screw.

Instead, someone apparently looked at a tool spinning several hundred times per minute and thought:

"Let's connect that to a screw with no lateral support whatsoever."

Driving a flathead screw with a power drill is like trying to balance a butter knife on a running lawn mower.

The bit immediately flies out of the slot, spins across the surface, removes the paint, damages the wood, strips the screw, and leaves a circular scar that will remain visible for the rest of your life.

Then your wife walks into the room and asks, "What happened there?"

You explain that the drill slipped.

She looks at the damage.

Then she looks at you.

At that point, the flathead screw has harmed both your furniture and your marriage.

Better Screws Have Existed for More Than a Century

In 1907, Canadian inventor Peter L. Robertson patented a square-socket screw.

The Robertson design allowed the driver to sit securely inside the screw head. It resisted slipping, worked well with power tools, and could even hold the screw on the end of the driver.

In other words, Robertson fixed the problem.

Then, during the 1930s, Henry Phillips helped introduce the cross-shaped Phillips screw to American manufacturing. The Phillips design was self-centering, faster on assembly lines, and far better suited for power tools than the traditional slot.

The Phillips screw can still cam out and strip, so it is not innocent. It is simply guilty of lesser crimes.

Modern Torx and hex designs provide even greater engagement and allow considerably more torque without the tool constantly escaping.

We have had alternatives for generations.

The continued existence of the flathead screw is therefore not a technological limitation.

It is a choice.

Defenders of the Flathead Screw

Flathead supporters claim the design still has advantages.

These people should be monitored.

They point out that a flathead screw can sometimes be turned with a coin, knife, washer, key, or other flat object when a screwdriver is unavailable.

That is true.

But do you know what is even better?

Using the correct tool with a screw that does not hate you.

Defenders also say the open slot makes it easier to remove dirt or paint from the screw head.

Of course there is paint in the slot. The screwdriver slipped and put it there.

Others argue that brass slotted screws look attractive on antique furniture.

I will concede this point. A perfectly aligned row of polished brass screws can look beautiful on a traditional piece of furniture.

Rattlesnakes can also have beautiful patterns.

That does not mean I want to hold one while installing a door hinge.

Electricians sometimes prefer slotted terminal screws because a properly fitted blade can make broad contact with the screw. Again, this may be a legitimate specialized application.

The key phrase is "properly fitted."

If a trained electrician wants to use the correct flat-bladed driver on a terminal screw, I will stay out of his way.

But there is no reason my towel rack should require the same level of precision as the electrical grid.

The Final Insult

Every toolbox contains multiple flathead screwdrivers.

Not because flathead screws are good, but because they refuse to die.

We keep small ones for eyeglasses. Large ones for machinery. Short ones for tight spaces. Long ones for reaching behind things. Cheap ones for prying open paint cans because that is the highest and best use of a flathead screwdriver.

In fact, the flathead screwdriver has become more useful for jobs that do not involve flathead screws.

It is a miniature pry bar.

It is a paint-can opener.

It is a scraper.

It is a chisel you know you should not be using as a chisel.

It is occasionally a device for retrieving something that fell behind the washing machine.

The one thing it does poorly is drive the screw it was designed to drive.

That is an impressive level of failure.

It Is Time to Move Forward

I am not asking the government to ban flathead screws.

I do not want Congress involved. They would spend $400 million studying the problem and eventually require every screw to have three additional slots.

I am simply asking manufacturers to do the right thing.

Stop including flathead screws with furniture, appliances, fixtures, toys, electrical covers, cabinet hardware, and anything else an ordinary person must assemble.

Use a Phillips screw.

Use a Robertson screw.

Use a Torx screw.

Use a hex screw.

Use glue.

Use rope.

Use two pieces of chewing gum and a sincere prayer.

Just stop giving us screws specifically designed to launch the screwdriver into the surrounding material.

The slotted screw served its purpose in the 1400s. It helped medieval craftsmen assemble armor and firearms using the limited manufacturing technology available to them.

We thank it for its service.

Now it is time to let it go.

Put it in a museum beside the chamber pot, the wooden wagon wheel, and whatever medical instrument doctors used before they discovered anesthesia.

And if historians ever uncover the true identity of the sinister man who first cut that slot across the top of a screw, I am willing to forgive him.

After all, he lived five hundred years ago.

He did not know any better.

But the company that included four flathead screws with the towel rack I bought last week?

They knew exactly what they were doing.