Had the weekly quest to the laundromat, with a precious 35 minutes in which to run errands. After those 35 minutes, the washer unlocks and the battle royale for the machine commences. This time around, I had a very specific mission for those minutes. A shelf. I needed a shelf to finally finish off the bar I made for my living room (out of what was formerly a mantle from a church, featuring a dedication to a woman name Gretchen, who I of course presume was a nun… but that’s a story for another day).
As soon as the laundry was in, I hit it to the nearest big-chain hardware store. As a twenty-something woman going into these stores, I take the same approach every time: find an elderly male employee. He’ll want to help you like a father would his daughter, then you dazzle him with your handy-lady knowledge. He’ll be oh so helpful and you’ll get out quicker. Instead, I ran into a middle-aged female employee. This is hit or miss. In this case, a win! She knew just the aisle and pointed to send me on my way without feeling like she needed to hold my hand and walk me there because I might get lost. Beautiful. On the way, get accosted by three more employees:
- The young guy, who I barely let get a word out without saying, “I’m fine, thanks!”
- The young lady, who thought about asking if I needed help but saw I was walking swiftly so hesitated and awkwardly slinked away
- The middle-aged man, who blocked my path and said, “Can I help you find anything, little lady?”
The third one was the trigger to what became a building rage. We’re not in the deep south, you’re not a cowboy and I’m not ten years old, so there’s no circumstance where “little lady” is appropriate. I got around him after a terse rejection of his offer and got to the shelves. All too long or too short. Grabbed one that was about four inches too long and went to the cutting station. Found several young male employees scrapping about, BSing around the forklift, as they tend to do.
Put on the winning smile and pulled out a charming, “Would one of you gentlemen be able to help me trim this shelf, please?” Half wink.
The leader of the BS conversation says, “I’m sorry, but the saw is broken.”
Winning smile glitches slightly. I retort, “You’re joking, right? That’s terribly inconvenient for a store that sells lumber…”
The group chuckles, the lead BSer just smiles and says, “Oh yes, terrible, just can’t cut, just now, just saw a pretty girl walk over and forgot what its job was.”
The creepy pick-up line was lost on me as I asked, “No seriously though, is it broken or not?”
Laughter ensued, “Oh yeah, totally broken…”
Not in the mood for a jovial harassment, I turned heel and walked away. Echoes of “only joking” followed as I pushed the board into the arms of a manager on the way out and left the store, annoyed.
15 minutes till time was up.
Into the car and quickly to the other big-box hardware store two blocks down. Quickly in, looking for an employee to inquire where to find shelving. No one. Not a soul. So I hot-footed it in the direction of some “close enough” hanging sign and finally found the shelves. Again, too long or too short. Grabbed one that was three inches too long and went to find the cutting station. Not a single employee within six aisles on either side of it to help me out.
So of course, eff that noise. Grabbed a pair of goggles and marked the board off with a pencil and a ruler. Lined it up to cut off those two inches. Read the little sign that said how to operate/turn on the saw and clicked it. An outcry from several aisles down. An employee had finally shown up and was very distraught about me using the saw. Shut it off, stepped back and waited for them to arrive (since they were clearly coming from WHO KNOWS WHERE – since there were NO employees to help in that store). They arrive and garble on about safety. I point out that no where on the signs does it indicate that the saw is for employee use only and I tried to find an employee but couldn't. Just a little girl, didn't know any better. Hand them the goggles, ask politely if they’d kindly cut the board for me, so sorry, didn't really mean to cause a fuss, thanks so much for your help, etc.
This guy then proceeds to tell me that they "aren't allowed" to cut off less than a foot, so he can’t cut off the three inches on my shelf. Says what I can do is go get a way too long shelf (which costs several dollars more) and then it would be more than a foot getting cut off so it’d be fine. So I could just go waste my money and time and a tree and go do that. In a huff, I tell him to wait there and sprint back to the shelves. Grab the obnoxious long shelf and rapidly return to the saw station.
Five minutes til laundry was done.
And the guy is gone. And there is no employee within six aisles on either side. And the bastard took the goggles with him (and I know better than to disobey a rule without safety goggles on). After a near-barbaric outburst of exasperation, I put the board on the saw and wrote a post-it saying, “Thanks for nothing” and left the store. Yes, I carry post-its just for such occasions of passive-aggressive rage. Is an appropriately sized board so much to ask for?? I'm not about to go buy a proper electric saw, and we all know that if I get a handsaw this will turn into some weird Saw moment as I accidentally chop off my leg (those things are hard to control with my supreme lack of upper body strength).
Raced back to my laundry, and that SAME elderly Asian woman who had it out for me previously was about to dump my clothes out again. At that point though, with me in my lack-of-shelf Hulk-mode, bitch didn't stand a chance…
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| La trahison des hardware stores |
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