I needa! The perpetual cry of the (a) attempting to make/fix something. (b) Person hitting the twice a year Trade Show. -- Knitnan
Humans were amazing. Most Galactics reached the stars and harvested society for new ideas. Humans did the same, but then they warped those ideas further and made new and frightening things with them.
The most terrifying introduction to Galactic Society was ductape. Humans couldn't agree if it was 'duct tape' or 'duck tape', so Galactics compromised and made it one, universal word. Which the humans gleefully adopted.
Most humans could solve a great deal of problems with a roll of ductape and some wire. And what they couldn't solve with either of those... they had a reputation for solving with explosions.
This is the species that invented the immunoflu.
Therefore, Galactics are used to seeing a human approaching a problem with a roll of ductape and a chain of paperclips.
And it was some surprise to the crew of the investigatory exploration ship, The Alice to see their ship's human retreat from the problem and mutter, "I need a three-eighth's gripley wrench." They stalked back in with the object in question.
Some clangs, swearing and another emergence. "Spline actuator fridget. I need a spline actuator fridget!"
The crew gathered to observe. Murmurs were exchanged concerning potential explosions. The human seemed to be happy, which was always a sign of trouble. They kept making, "Aha!" noises. Which could mean anything between, "I've found it," and "Now I've got you, you bastard."
The human emerged again. "BINGLETHRIPPER," the announced with a snap of their rubbery fingers. And then they went back in with the very human war cry of, "One of us is gonna die, and it ain't gonna be me!"
There was the inevitable muffled explosion. A cascade of metal things falling from their appointed place, including the circular one that always went off in its own direction. Then the human emerged, partially on fire, with its insult fingers raised at the problem. "GOTCHA! GOTCHA YER BASTARD! GET OUTTA THAT! HA!" They noticed their crew members. "IT'S FIXED," they said. "GOTTA GO TO SICK BAY I GOT THIS RINGING IN MY EARS AND I CAN'T HEAR A THING. OH, AND THERE'S A BIT OF A FIRE."
Humans. Can't live with them, and can't isolate them in a relatively empty area of space with heavy armaments protecting the rest of the universe from their presence.
 Faced with never curing the common cold, humanity tamed the virus and put it to work by spreading vaccine seeds wherever it roamed. Immunisation is no longer a matter of choice, and those against injections can acquire their immunity as naturally as they please.
 Other species don't always 'get' giving their vessels names, but humans insist on it. They try, and sometimes, they fail.