I had a neat experience at Home Despot [sic] yesterday. I went to get the LAST FOUR outlet plates for the kitchen. Of course I could only find two of the four I wanted. They apparently had five in stock, but at Home Creepo [Tim calls them that] all that stuff gets horribly mixed around.
The guy who was helping me got help from another guy at a computer, and a woman was standing by talking to him. I told them how I’d been at Home Depot, on average, once every day for the last two or three months. “To get these covers?” he asks. Funny. “No, I’ve been spending LOTS of money here renovating my house.” “And we appreciate it–we’ll miss you!” Nice.
When he mentioned there were only five in stock, and then mentioned there were 250 at the East Side location, I said that I’d send my boyfriend there after work to get them. They laughed. Not that I said it about a boyfriend specifically, but they got my light comment that I was delegating this responsibility to him.
I make a rule that when I’m in a situation where anyone else would mention their significant other, I do as well, regardless of the consequences (as long as people with white robs holding shotguns aren’t nearby). For a moment I lived in a world where the gender of my life partner didn’t matter.
I enjoyed it.