Store Cred

My visit today to the local, big box home improvement store should have been ordinary. Instead, it was extraordinary. I could tell something was different from the moment the sliding doors parted for me. Men smiled sweetly and stepped aside as I passed customer service. Those with baseball caps reached to tip them. One gentleman in a camouflage jumpsuit passed me near the checkout lanes. He nodded, patted me on the back, and said “Congratulations.” In the hardware department, the salesman wouldn’t leave my side as I ogled the jumbo wall hooks. “Galvanized, you say, why sure, Ma’am, let me show you where they are. Anything else I can get you? Anything at all?”

Holy crap! For years–decades even–I’ve tried to engineer respectful treatment at building supply stores. It’s like manna for petite DIY women like me. You’d think in my case I could get a little courtesy. As an architect, I know the contractor lingo. Dig this: “8 mil vapor barrier.” “Plumbing coupling.” “Escutcheon plate.” Those are some bad @ss talking points, people! But the red vests stare blankly at me as though they’ve never heard of a zinc-plated c-clamp before, like I’m some kind of ponytailed alien who just made the thing up.

I’ve also tried manning up before hitting the wide aisles. Pencil behind ma ear, measuring tape on ma belt. To clarify, I’ve never put these things on for shopping trips, but if they’re already on, I don’t take them off, either. Here’s how it ends up: they think I’m shoplifting.

A quick tip: if you’re looking for home improvement store cred, don’t shop with your children on a weekend. The vests may be saying “May I help you?”, but they’re thinking “Laura Ashley paint chips on aisle 6, Mommy.”

So how was it that today, everything changed? Were the trippy rumors about 12.12.12 actually true?

No. It’s because I showed up with a big rack.

Of deer antlers. The rack I bought on eBay to mount on my shed. Because Prince Charles has antlers on his shed in England. I saw a picture of it in a lady magazine, and it was so cool, I’m copying the idea.

Little did I know that when I clicked “Buy it Now,” I was actually purchasing Cupid’s arrow to Everyman’s Heart. At least every man at Lowe’s in Central Virginia.

Did my new-found power corrupt me? Yes. Yes, it did. I strode down aisles where I needed nothing, just to collect looks of admiration. My fingers curled around the antlers, whose projections I now know are called “forks” and “palms.” Sadly, It was time to call it a wrap when a dapper shopper in Lumber said “that’s a weird thing to be wielding at Lowe’s.” What did he know?  Friggin’ suit.

On the upside, no one asked me what firearm I’d used to bring down Bambi. I’m no a gun expert, let’s just say. My hunting career can be summed up in four words: family room Nerf darts. But had I’d been asked, right there at Lowe’s, my professional experience would finally have proven useful. In my first architecture job, my boss sent me to job sites when unexpected conditions arose. Why, I don’t know; I was twenty-two years old with no knowledge of construction detailing. I’d show up and the yellow hats would look at me like I’d missed the ballerina bus. They’d start in with their questions, the ones I couldn’t answer. “What bolt pattern you want on this ridge beam?” Or “How much rebar should we put in the footer under this column?” Whatever the query, I soon learned that the only answer was another question: “What did you have in mind?”  The yellow hats would proceed to give up the goods. “Well, we were thinking six #8s, at 5″ on center.” Amazed at the coincidence, I’d say, “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest!”  Everyone was happy. They got validated, and I dodged a bullet.

“What firearm, you ask?”, I was ready to shoot back today. “Well what do you think I used, Silly?”  As long as my admirer didn’t suggest a SuperSoaker, I was good. In fact, just for today, I was GREAT.