Sunday, October 05, 2003

Nails!


Every town should have a locally owned, locally run hardware store. It should be a law. It should be subsidized by the community, if necessary. Police officers, Fire fighters, hardware store guys. It's that important. Now, don't hate me, and please don't think I'm being sexist here, by saying hardware "guys". I'm sure there are competent hardware "gals" out there as well (case in point: Amy Wynn on Trading Spaces can build better than Ty any day of the week), but I have a special love for this stereotypical "hardware guy".

We used to have just such a hardware store. I loved this store. I could walk into this store and yell NAILS! and five retired grandpa-type guys (the quintessential "hardware guy") would come running to see what I needed, would walk me to the aisle, would help me get the nails, and walk me to the cash register. It's as close to the Waltons as I think I'll ever get in my life. Penny Candy, Pickle Barrels, and NAILS! Once I walked into the hardware store with a broken off piece of ceramic towel rack thing that I broke. I didn't yell "Nails!" or "Broken off piece of ceramic towel rack thing!" In fact I walked in with the shattered remains and just moaned.....Unnnnngh...... Sure enough, here come the hardware guys. Technically speaking they don't run. They amble in their retired kind of way. But to a Tuna in need, they were running. In shining white armor, even. With a noble steed (You hear that? I'm a steed!) Anyway. The hardware guys ask if they can help me. I nod and "Unnnnnnngh" while pointing at the pile in my hand. I didn't know what to say or what I needed. I think I finally said "it's broken....how do I fix this?" and, off we went together to the aisle of patching compound. It was a beautiful thing, deserving of sunsets and chirping birds.

But, like many things, the locally owned, locally run hardware store has succumbed to the hardware chain. Now, there are two choices. The first is the smaller hardware store chain which has nails (find 'em yourself) grass seed and snow shovels, along with Pyrex baking dishes, crappy Halloween decorations and greeting cards. Your only help is going to come from the cashier, whose skill is limited to making change and directing you towards the rack of Slim Jims. The second choice is the Home Repair Superstore. I have nothing against these. I have met helpful people there. However, when I walk in and yell NAILS! I'm generally directed to aisle fifty-nine. Once I finally make it there, I have to yell NAILS all over again, or start hunting down the peon who is not so much of a NAILS! specialist, but a NAILS stockperson. And yes, I know. They aren't peons. They are Associates. Can I tell you how much I hate that term? Associate Shmassociate. They're a cog in the corporate machine. They are a worker bee. Nothing more. Let's all just admit it and move on.

This weekend I ventured to the Home Repair Superstore. Fortunately I didn't need NAILS and I hadn't broken anything. I just got lots of bulbs and the mandatory orange Home Repair Superstore Bucket. Everybody needs one. Even two.

No comments: