How to bewilder the staff at your local big-box hardware store
by Walter Jowers
Last week, my buddy Bird and I went to a local big-box store to pick up a little lumber and hardware, so Bird could tackle a few home-improvement jobs at my house. To be fair, I won't say whether we went to the big blue box or the big orange box. Not that there's a heck of a lot of difference. Go to any big hardware/lumber/garden store these days, and the clerks will run from you like they're dodging brain-eating zombies.
After we waited a few minutes in hopes a clerk would show himself, Bird looked up at one of the giant aisle markers and said to me, "I know what hardware is, but what the hell is a ferreteria?"
"Well," I said, "when I get asked that question—and it happens more than you might think—I tell people that a ferreteria is a place where ferrets eat. But in actual fact, it means 'hardware store' in Spanish."
"You swear to God?" Bird asked, quizzically.
"Well, sure," I said. "I swear to God that I offer that explanation every time I get the opportunity. And people believe me when I say it. It's a blend of ferret and cafeteria."
While I was explaining how I explain "ferreteria," Bird wandered toward to a cubicle that contained three sales associates, who were passing around a can of WD-40.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Bird said to the three men, "but could you tell me when the ferrets come out for lunch?"
"What?" said the associate holding the WD-40 can. "What about ferrets?"
"I was hoping to see the ferrets come to the ferreteria for lunch," Bird said. "I'd envisioned something like the duck parade at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis."
They looked dumbfounded, as if to say, "The things you do for minimum wage and an employee discount on mulch." My buddy Bird, though, took their silence as encouragement.
"I used to have an albino ferret, Buddy Precious, who lived in my oldest daughter's underwear drawer," Bird continued, "until my ex-wife put Buddy outside in August, and the heat killed him. I still miss that ferret. My daughter made a ceramic copy of him after he died. It was the only good thing I got out of the divorce."
We walked away from the cubicle, which was now as quiet as a mental ward on double-med day. Bird was clearly feeling philosophical. "You know, there's no reason in the world for those three men to be playing with a can of WD-40," he said. "The only reason they'd need a can of WD-40 is to loosen up frozen nuts or bolts, which should be brand-new, and not in need of lubricant."
"You've got a point there," I said. "Every metal thing in the store ought to be lubed up and ready to go before a customer ever touches it."
Just then, Bird took off in search of a lumber cart. After about 10 minutes of searching, he found one, and parked it next to the two-dollar two-by-fours.
"I need to take a little side trip," I told Bird. "Part of my mission here is to find a little garden spreader and some weed-and-feed, and bring that home."
"Go get it," Bird said. "By the time you're done, I'll have this cart loaded up."
So I headed toward the lawn-and-garden section, which was deserted except for one very nice man named Lou. Lou actually walked toward me and said, "How can I help you?" I was stunned.
"I could use one of these garden spreaders," I said. And then I witnessed a miracle. Lou reached up to the garden-spreader shelf, picked up a spreader, and set it down right in front of me. "Here you go, sir," Lou said with a fair bit of enthusiasm. "You can just push it out to the checkout line."
I would have, too, except for the problem with the push handle, which, along with the wheels, makes the spreader only a little more useful than a headless hammer. I unfolded the handle, lined up the nuts and bolts, and started tightening up the parts. That's when the rusty metal bolts shredded the plastic nuts, and the handle fell right off.
Lou, bless his heart, went and fetched some locking pliers and tried to fix the now-useless $40 spreader.
"Lou," I said, "love you man, but I'm pronouncing this spreader. Time of death is 5:32."
I walked back to the lumber section, where Bird had loaded up our cart. "Where's your spreader?" Bird asked. "Brenda won't like it if you come home without a spreader."
"The spreader's dead," I replied.
"What killed it?" Bird asked.
I replied, "It was Chinese. It fell apart when I touched it."
Bird nodded, knowingly.
Comments (6)
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It is always nice to see your name in print. Thanks Walter, for making me look good...!!! That spreader was a mess. You must admit I did give you good customer serviced..Please come back and see me and I'll make sure that you will have another great shopping experience... Lou
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I don't know which big box you shop at, but it has been our experience that ALL the folks at both blue and orange boxes have been super-helpful and knowledgeable. They'll spend as long as it takes to help us solve our problems, even if the solution is just a part that costs a dollar, or doesn't even result in a sale. I love your column, but I think you have a case of "what you see is what you get." We see helpful people and you see idiots!
hmmm, Walter? May I offer that my experience with the staff at the big boxes does match yours. That is to say, they don't run away screaming when I enter the store, and they don't appear to be morons. In fact, I find them to be at least moderately knowledgeable, quite pleasant in personality and willing to go to any lengths to help me find what I think I want. Walter, given the poisonous tone of your article, might it have occurred to you that the staff doesn't avoid customers in general... just ah, how can I put this gently? Yes, I know. Is there a mirror in your bathroom?
A humorous piece, possibly taken a little too seriously by some. Most of us have had experiences at big box stores (of any kind) that entail difficulty in finding help or someone who actually knows what a 1/4" x 1" carriage bolt is. And, yes, sometimes the products are shabby. However, most of the times that I have been to my local big box store and have asked for help (when I can find an employee not already busy with a customer, or at least looking as if they are busy doing something really important) I have found that most are as helpful as Lou (mentioned in the story) and most of the products live up to my expectations (of course most of the time my expectations are not very high on the scale). I think the main thing that can be taken away from the story is that big box stores are not and never will be the same experience as the local mom-n-pop hardware store of olden times. Too bad. But hopefully the big box store gods will keep trying to improve their customers' satisfaction.
You guys are the kind of people the workers in these types of stores want to avoid. We can smell you a mile away you are the type of people that don't want real help you're just want to be cute. You try to leave the impression that all big box stores are full of stupid lazy people that sniff aerosol cans lack any type of intelligences. I guess since you got some fish wrapper to publish your little stupid stories that it actually make you some how intelligent. Fact is that a lot of people that work there are working part time that do other professions some work as building inspector, retired plumber, retired electricians, police officers and many other with degrees in various fields. Most are trying to put there children through school, pay off bills and or just to get out of the house. Big blue employees are not loser. It attract allot of well educated people due to the flexibility in hours they provide. Most Big blue employees can not solve every problem that may arise in your project so don't expect them too. if you want to learn how to paint be an electrician or a plumber take a class don't come to big box store expecting to learn these things only god can make stupid people smart not Big blue employees. We are here to help you get the tools and supply to complete the job and give some helpful advice. If you need more we have contractor for that. Beside we got to be doing some thing right the parking lot full every Saturday and Local hardware USA is all but dead. Stop cry because we put Uncle Willies Hillbilly Hardware out of business.
I think some folks are taking all of this way too seriously. It was a humor piece which means that it was exaggerated, kind of like a Sat. Night Live skit. However, we can at least give rob some credit for defending his employer. Now if he'd just use some of his hard-earned money for an English composition class.
