If you ever need to be reminded of why being a woman is awesome, take a stroll through The Home Depot.
I was sent by the hubby to buy blinds for the bedroom with a sheet of paper in hand containing exact measurements. I have no desire to go to The Home Depot…ever. It’s dirty and it’s crowded, occupied by ass scratching, ball grabbing neanderthals. From the looks that are being shot in my direction, I get the feeling that these men are all exchanging silent dialogue. “What’s a woman doing in here? this is a man’s store! Rawr!” …commence chest pounding. Either that or I feel like a succulent strip steak thrown into the lion’s den.
It’s 11 a.m on a Thursday. It smells of feet and butt crack. Cigarette smoke and propane. Combine those aromas with the wafting odor of random belches containing the regurgitated scents of early morning taco shop burritos, Egg McMuffins and Breakfast Jacks from the typical contractor gut buster breakfast and you have “Eu De Home Depot” Cologne.
Back to the task at hand, and the sheet of paper. “Just hand it to the guy” my husband tells me. First of all, What guy? Where are all of the employees? Do they all run and hide in the mezzanine, leaving the exact aisle you need help in completely desolate? Why can’t I find ANYONE in an orange apron?
After asking twice and waiting 10 minutes, a middle-aged man hacking up a lung with the customer service skills of a stale cracker graced me with his presence. I did as the hubby had told me. “I need these blinds in this size (handing him the paper) can you cut them for me?” “We don’t have that size” is what was replied. I was not prepared for that. I don’t do measurements. Give me english or geography, but dear God don’t give me math! It’s always a blood bath with me and anything math related. Math remains the undefeated champion. The man told me that he only had 64″ blinds not 72″ and then mumbled something under his breath about length and width all the while with his back turned to me. I called the hubby to tell him the good news. He had me repeat the measurements over the phone and informed me that we’d in fact bought the same blinds here before for the same type of window, so they must carry that size. He then asked me what the overall measurements were and this is when my 4-year-old began to whine and repeat in a cult like satanic tone “what is taking so long, what is taking so long” at least 18 times. My hubby has been with me for 15 years, clearly he should know that this was not a question I was best suited to answer. My educated response was “I don’t know.” He then told me to put the Home Depot man on the phone. The conversation went something like this; “hello? yeah, yep, ok, right, ok I’ll take a 1/2″ off.” Conversation over. Mind blown. Why am I even here?
The ever so helpful gentleman informed me that I most certainly needed a cart to carry those heavy blinds. A “cart”, not a large, orange, barge-like trailer. You say “cart” and I think “shopping cart”, it’s implied in the name for crying out loud. I ventured to the front of the store for a “shopping cart” and upon returning to my blinds, was met with a face of sheer disappointment. This dude wanted me to get the trailer “cart.” Oh well. He dropped the 2 boxes of blinds over the top of said cart. Such an innovative and efficient idea. Now I get to maneuver my way through the aisles while holding onto these things and trying to prevent my son from rebar impalement or a forklift hit and run.
looking rather ridiculous, I stopped and did what any blogger would do, I took a picture.
I heard a man’s voice behind me trying to imitate a girly “ish” speech with a rather condescending tone. “Are we posting to Facebook?” he asked. That was it. I had had enough of the looks, the aromas, and the crowd. I turned around and said “no, actually I’m texting this to my husband with a caption that says “why the fuck didn’t you come get these God damn blinds yourself.” The man’s smile left rather quickly and his reply was a solemn “oh.” Thankfully my son had walked out the front doors and into the street completely unsupervised at that moment so he didn’t hear me…phew. The cashier took my money with a light smirk. I think she was quietly giving me props, or deciding that I’m a stupid dumb chick that needs to get out of her store. Once in the parking lot, I felt freedom, and then I remembered that I still needed to get these bastards home. Loading these blinds into the car was almost as equally enjoyable as purchasing them.
In the end, I completed my mission and got those blinds, along with filthy hands, a comfy sweat drenching while trying to puzzle piece them into the minivan, and a serious blow to my pride. My only responsibility should be to enjoy and admire my new window treatments; period. Bottom line, this is not a store for me and being a woman never felt so good. I won’t be buying stock in the Depot or applying for their high interest rate credit card. Their slogan should be changed from “you can do it, we can help” to “you may attempt it, we don’t give a shit.” Much more accurate in my opinion.