2007: Shopping at Hardware Stores Still Requires a Dick
scrappybadger August 18th, 2007
A few of our tomato plants have outgrown their cages lately, so we decided to get some wooden stakes after work yesterday. We went to one of those big box hardware stores. I don’t think it is right to name names, so I won’t tell you which one it was, but it rhymes with Lowe’s. We avoid big chains when we can, but there isn’t a local hardware store near us. There are a few garden centers, but they didn’t have what we needed. Plus, we were still nursing a gift card from Christmas.
While we were there we decided to spend some money we didn’t have on something we really need. We looked at electric weedeaters. They are, after all, the only ones near our price range. Most of the ones they still had in stock had been opened, taken out of the box, and messed with. When I asked for a discount, after waiting forever for an answer, some guy came up and told me that they come off the truck that way. “You mean opened like this?” I asked. “Yep. It’s all there. Do you want me to show it to you?” I wanted to punch him in his gut. I know what a goddamned weedeater should look like. I just looked at Piig and told her we’d buy something else as I walked away.
I might not work at a hardware store and, thankfully, I don’t have a cock, but I know damn well that boxes don’t come from the factory already ripped open. They might be banged up, but they don’t seal the boxes and then tear open the tape and cardboard for the hell of it.
I decided we should get the cheap one, use it within the 30 day return policy and then take it back before it has time to break. I mean seriously, it isn’t as if a weedeater that cheap is going to work for long anyway, if at all. And if your morality meter just went off, if you think I’m a horrible person for hatching such a scheme or that I’m “part of what’s wrong with this world” then kindly dismiss yourself from this blog because there is no room for you here. Part of what is truly wrong with this world is that our landlords can jack up the rent and still expect us to be able to maintain an acceptable looking yard.
Later, I couldn’t find any cable ties, so I asked two (the first one told me the wrong aisle) guys where I’d find them. BOTH of them corrected me. First guy: ”You mean zip ties?” Second guy: “Zip strips?” When I finally found them, EVERY SINGLE BOX said CABLE TIES. The word zip wasn’t on ANY of them.
We harvested a disgustingly phallic cucumber the other day. Maybe I should shellac it, put a string through, tie it around my waist, and let it swing between my knees the next time I need something hardware related.
