Welcome Back

I've been meaning to post for awhile. No real reasons why I haven't, just laziness and getting sucked into facebook for hours at a time. And, in taking the advice in a recent comment from Matt, instead of just going forth with all the topics in one new post, I'm going to spread them out a bit and try to spend some time at this.

Of the many things that have crossed my mind to write about, including my new platform on regulating the lives of senior citizens and why I should never, ever go back to a Marc's store, the top ten things to never say to a pregnant woman, general thoughts on becoming a parent (terrifying!), random encounters with Toddling Bruce, etc., the one that takes precedence today is the complete lack of customer service at my local Home Depot.

Now, for many reasons, I've been spending a lot of time at Home Depot recently. We are trying to finish up all manor of projects at home before the arrival of Taj Jr., and because neither my husband nor myself are particularly handy, we often fail to get all the necessary supplies on our first or even second trip. Thus, I've been at Home Depot no fewer than 10 times in the last 2 weeks...really. This bothers me on many levels, but that reflection is for another post.

At each of my visits, I know what I need, but am either unable to find it or unable to reach it. At each of my visits, there seem to be many employees, but none who wish to help me with either task. I spend a particularly extended amount of time at the paint counter, where perhaps the most unfriendly of the employees are stationed, because that is where people seem to need the most help, so it makes sense to place your least trained and least hospitable workers there.

Plus, the paint counter is conveniently located directly opposite the general customer service desk, where there are often as many as 10 other employees, just hanging out, talking about life, enjoying some coffee, and in general, NOT HELPING ANYONE. This never ceases to intrigue me.

So last week, on my 6th or 7th visit in as many days, to get yet another can of deck stain, I had reached my breaking point. Really. Just to set the stage: I'm fucking 8 months pregnant. Its hot in Cleveland (finally!). I'm hungry and thirsty constantly. I also almost always need to pee. I'm cranky. The deck stain I need is so high on a shelf, I can't reach it without climbing onto a ladder. I ask the two employees, who are in the same aisle WITH A LADDER if they would mind getting me down the can. They decline. Really. They say, go to the paint counter and ask the guy there, he'll get it for you. Well, I know that, but he's helping the 4 other people who are there and if I can just take the can with me, he can mix the stain without having to walk down and get it and maybe I can get the fuck out of home depot in less than an hour, which itself would be a miracle. However, the two employees, who are in the same aisle WITH A LADDER continue to decline to give me the stain. So I waddle (side note: I'm really playing up the pregnant thing, especially in public, because usually it gets me excellent treatment and pleasantness from people...apparently, not in the depot though.) back to the paint desk...wait in line for the ONE employee working there, listening to the chatter of the ten other employees who are just chilling at the customer service desk. Not a care in the world.

Now, it is important to know that I avoid confrontation AT ALL COSTS. I don't know why, but I do. Rarely do I complain about service or products, or anything in stores or restaurants. I hate to return things. So I'm not sure why I chose to spout off this next statement, really loudly, to no one in particular, while standing in line. Oh that's right, see above.

"I'm amazed that with our country in such a deep recession...and with all these people out of work...that Home Depot would employ so many people who just don't want to help customers! I just don't get it! I'm amazed! I can't believe no one else in this entire store can help us here at the paint counter!!"

My fellow customers all kind of nodded while taking a few steps away from me, the goofy pregnant lady who is red in the face. And the chatter at the customer service desk stops--but there is NO REPLY or move to help us! Wow! The only response I get is from the paint guy who looks at me and slowly says "I'll be with you as soon as I can, ma'am." Don't ma'am me! I'm only 29 years old! Fuck you! Give me my goddamn deck stain! AHHHHHHHH!

Well, I didn't say those things at the end, I had reached my limit for confrontation. Instead, I just waited...got my stain...paid for it...went home...and informed my husband that if he valued our marriage at all, I would not ever have to return to Home Depot. And so far, I'm happy to say, I haven't.