Humor: Shopping at large chain DIY stores – Part 5

March 31, 2011 By

After years of swiping groceries, heaving bags of dog food and kitty litter, memorizing hundreds of codes for produce,bulk and bakery items, not to mention dealing with every sort of customer, I have come up with a simple list of how to conduct yourself when shopping. These are all based on actual experiences and do not in any way reflect every person who shops in large warehouse style big box stores.

Have a nice day!

1. Your cashier is your cashier, NOT, your:

a) Psychotherapist..I ask you how you are to be polite and make small talk. I don’t really want to know your dog died the day after your spouse left and the house burned down. It’s just awkward.

b) Babysitter.. If you can’t find a sitter, then at least know how to control your precious little offspring. They really shouldn’t be running amok throughout the store screaming at the top of their lungs, bossing you around while demanding candy, or down at the end of the conveyor belt squishing not only your groceries, but the person next to you.

c) Accountant.. I don’t’ know the prices of everything, and you should keep track of your spending as you go.

2. At some stores, you are asked for bags, it is to encourage consumers to RECYCLE, it is NOT:

a) A huge conspiracy to rob you of your precious hard earned money

b) A cash grab

c) The only way the company brings in its BILLIONS of dollars annually.

3. When asked if that was everything off your buggy, just answer yes, or no. And do check, people accidentally leave things there all the time!

Yes they do, really, it’s not another conspiracy to accuse you of shoplifting or to make you feel like a criminal….

4. Oh, really important, relating to the above? If you can’t hear your cashier, the proper response would be, “Pardon?”, NOT, EH?! HUH?! For example:

“Is that everything from the bottom of your cart?”

HUH? (accompanied by blank stare)

“Is that everything from the bottom of your CART?, sir”

ehh?! (accompanied by even more confused stare)

“Is that everything from the bottom of your buggy, sir” (trying hard not to sound irritated)

“No thanks, ma’am, I’m paying with cash….”

5. UMM, you gum smackers out there? If you MUST chew gum, DO IT WITH YOUR MOUTH CLOSED!

6. Oh, yeah, TAKE A SHOWER BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE!

7. But don’t marinate in your favorite perfume.

8. The stupidest thing I see in my line of work? Parents who place their kids on the conveyor belt, (babies), then expect me to give their little

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Humor: DIY that went wrong – Part 6

March 31, 2011 By

I’ve managed to survive more than six decades as a man and the titular head of my household by displaying the masculine, if not testosteronic mannerisms that define a man. I’ve been able to make a better than average living. I’ve maintained a home in an upscale neighborhood that is known for it’s excessive taxes and people and I have loosed two smart, talented and productive children upon an unsuspecting public.I distinguished myself in a number of industries as a man of vision and displayed the fortitude that kept me in the forefront of people’s minds. In short,I have fulfilled all of the requirements that my parents delineated to me prior to my passing puberty.

I am proud of my accomplishments. I am, in my mind, a man among men who can stand tall. Unfortunately, and I hesitate to sully my heretofore sterling reputation by mentioning this, not accomplished in one small area. Get your heads out of the gutter! I’m not talking about THAT! I am referring to the area of home-improvement. Yes that one place where most men will go to only when cornered by their wives. Oh those dreaded words uttered by the women we love as we are comfortably ensconced in our easy chairs watching a game or movie: “Honey, you need to fix this!”

“Oh God,” we mutter to ourselves! Why does she have to either discover, or even more dastardly a move,break something on purpose when we are, well, firmly ensconced. If any of you have never been ensconced, you probably can’t empathize with me.Take my word, being ensconced is rather pleasurable. But I digress.

“I”ll fix it later.I’m busy.” Is generally my response. My wife having been my wife for many years, isn’t taken in by that ruse. It is her firm opinion that even when I am truly busy, chances are it is nothing that is in any way,more important than anything she has for me to do. I could be giving blood to some poor hemophiliac, or out slaying dragons of one kind or another, or even answering the call of Homeland Security by eradicating the terrorist scourge in the world. Doesn’t mean a thing! I have to stop what I am doing and attend to her needs. Such was the case this one Sunday in February some twenty years ago.

My friend and I had just come back to my house for some refreshment when my wife came out to greet us. Smiling, she said, hi to my friend, gave him a hug and kiss, and casually mentioned to me that one of the heat registers in the living room isn’t putting out any heat. My response was: “Well that doesn’t

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Humor: DIY that went wrong – Part 1

March 24, 2011 By

ROY’S DIY DISASTER

WHEN TRUDI’S HUSBAND ROY WENT OUT ON A DIY MERCY MISSION SHE HAD NO IDEA THAT HER WHOLE LIFE WAS TO BE CHANGED… FOREVER…

THIS IS HER STORY…

It was a beautiful Sunday morning when Roy and I settled down to breakfast. It seemed like the beginning of a perfect day as we sat at the table looking out onto our beautiful garden that was bathed in the golden glow of the morning sunshine. A gentle breeze carried the peal of distant churches, and light, fluffy, cotton wool clouds floated about in a variety of different directions: up, down, diagonally, and even across the deep blue sky. It was a morning when it seemed nothing could go wrong.

The tranquillity of the morning was suddenly broken when the phone rang. It was my mother. She was distraught. “A corner of my wallpaper in the hallway’s peeling off!” she cried. “I’ll send Roy round right away,” I told her. I was in a panic as I thought of my poor mother with her lovely wallpaper falling off. Roy had to be quick, otherwise who knows what could happen.

Roy, who is very keen on DIY and is always ready and willing to help others in an emergency, quickly put his tool-box in his works van. He was about to go when he turned round and came back in. He had nearly forgotten his hammer. He took his favourite hammer out of the fridge where he keeps it fresh and went out of the door with a cheery wave. He told me he’d be back soon. I felt so proud of him as sped off in his van.

A KNOCK AT THE DOOR

I finished my breakfast and, after washing-up, I kept myself busy polishing Roy’s collection of inflatable Santas. I lost track of time, but after about four hours I realised Roy wasn’t home. I started to worry, this wasn’t like Roy. He never took long when anything need fixing in my mother’s house. I was about to phone my mother when there was a knock at the door. Little did I realise that knock was about to change my life forever. I opened the door and a policeman was standing there with a look of concern in his big blue eyes. “Roy, your husband has had an accident. He’s in hospital,” he said. I didn’t understand. My name wasn’t Roy. How could the policeman get it so wrong! He must have read my thoughts, after all he was a policeman. He took out his notebook and read from it. “Roy your husband, has had an accident. He’s in hospital.” Now I understood what the policeman meant and why they have to write everything down. I felt panic rising inside me. My heart was in mouth. It does that sometimes when

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Humor: Shopping at large chain DIY stores – Part 3

March 24, 2011 By

Humor: Shopping at large chain DIY stores.

It never ceases to amaze me how adaptable we humans are. No matter what job exists there is always someone who will fill it. From artificially inseminating turkeys to the study of people who wear unmatched socks, somebody will step forward to complete the task.

I am intrigued by the cashiers at the huge super-centers we have today. In order to be efficient they almost have to give up their identity and become robot-like. One day while the cashier was performing a price check over the intercom he identified himself as 542. I could not believe this was his God given name so I asked him about it.

“It’s my ID number at work. It has to be on every form from my timecard to my W-2. It’s just the way things are around here.”

As I walked away I said, “Thanks for checking the price for me 542.”

I walked toward the door and passed a manager. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“I sure did and when I needed some help, 542 was very obliging.

The manager did not seem surprised that I referred to his employee as a number. He just smiled and walked away. I guess it’s this impersonal atmosphere that makes me feel a little sorry for these cashiers and I like to make their day a little more interesting if I can.

One day at the local building center among my purchases were two, five gallon gas cans. As the cashier began the systematic scanning of UPCs on the products I decided to have a little fun. There was no one in line behind me so I could speak freely.

I started by saying, “You sell some fine products here. I rarely have problems with them.”

“Good”, was the response without even taking his eyes off the register.

I continued, “I had some trouble a couple of weeks ago though. I had to return two gas cans like these.”

“That’s too bad.” Still not taking the time to look at me or think about what he was saying.

I kept on, “Ya. I could not believe you folks would misrepresent a product like this.”

Finally he looked up and asked, “What was wrong with them?”

I said with a completely straight face, “See on the side where it says 5 GALLONS GAS? I brought mine all the way home but realized when I got there they were empty.”

I kept a straight face and at this point the poor cashiers mind hit overload. “Well – But – I mean – You know – They’re not – You can’t fff – But you have to”

I busted out laughing and after a few seconds, so did the cashier. He was so relieved I was not serious. He said, “I didn’t know what to do. We get all kinds of people in here and sometimes some pretty stupid questions come up.”

We both had a good laugh and every time I see him since that day we have a friendly conversation. At least he knows he doesn’t have to be a robot for me.

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Humor: DIY that went wrong – Part 2

March 23, 2011 By

Sometimes fact is stranger than fiction! In the case of two old cowboys, never a truer word was spoken.

Let me set the scene for you in this true, yet funny DIY story. Two elderly cowboys working the family ranch in Arizona, both in their seventies, both unmarried. Russell and Kasey lived their entire lives on the old ranch and had very little modern conveniences as their entire income was based around the selling of their cattle.

Both men never bothered to marry and worked the ranch since the day they were born. The ranch was rather delapidated as, as their years marched on, they were not wealthy enough to employ any help and too old to mend things that were not absolutely essential.

Last Friday, Russell went out to mend an electric bulb in the dilipidated barn that housed some of their cattle. The one electric bulb hung from ancient raw wires that dangled from the middle beam of the cattle barn. Russell pulled over an old milking stool and stood up on it to reach the blown electric bulb.

As he began to unscrew the blown bulb, Russell suddenly had a searing cramp down his right leg. Balancing on the old stool, holding onto the old electric cable, Russell started to shake his right leg to get rid of the cramp.

Kasey walked into the old barn and saw his older brother balancing on the old milking stool, holding onto electric wires and shaking his right leg. Thinking that Russell was being electrocuted, Kasey grabbed the nearest thing to hand, an old shovel. He then whacked Russell on the arm with shovel with all the strength he could muster trying to release his brother from imminent death.

Kasey broke Russell’s arm all over a cramp in the foot. Poor Russell is now the laughing stock of the town and Kasey feels like a complete fool. This is a true story; sometimes fact is stranger than fiction. Do you have any DIY humorous stories?

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Humor: DIY that went wrong – Part 5

March 20, 2011 By

Years ago my boyfriend at the time, had a car that had blown a gasket. The oil pan gasket. Now, my boyfriend did not have a fancy car, he had a used car to get him from point A to point B. It was a old Chevy Chevette.

Keep in mind, my boyfriend was no mechanic by any means, though he could detail a car like it just came off the showroom floor. I give him that much. He was an Auto glass installer. If you had a broken windshield, if you had a window leak, he could put a window gasket back on your windshield, a slight crack from a rock hitting it, he could fix that too, but a cars oil pan gasket?

I asked if he knew enough about the car to take the job on being he knew auto glass more then he knew car engines and he said,”How hard can it be? Just take a few bolts off under there, put the new gasket on, seal it up and bolt it back on.”

The next Saturday, my boyfriend whom I will just call JD, decided HE would replace the car oil pan gasket in our garage at the house we were renting at the time. Needless to say, his little car was up on the jacks, and he had tools and car parts everywhere on the floor of the double car garage.

After working to get under the car and getting the oil collected in this long pan he had, he got the old gasket off of the oil pan. He took a break and this is where he lost his momentum. A few Michelob beers later, at beer-thirty I recall him saying, he tried to put ole Bessie back together, and unlike the nursery rhyme with Humpty Dumpty, all the kings horses and all the kings men could NOT have put ole Bessie together again!

JD ended up with more parts left over after putting it back together, after working on the car for over 5 hours, he threw his hands up in defeat and said,”Forget this crap! I’ll go get a new car!”

So, he called up a place to come collect the now junked out car with spare parts and made $100 off of ole Bessie and the next day went and bought a new car, a Geo Metro. I think it was the first car he had ever owned new, and complete! I told him, “Next time, stick with what you know.”

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Humor: Shopping at large chain DIY stores – Part 4

March 15, 2011 By

Why is it that stores claiming to teach Joe Homeowner how to replace every plumbing fixture in his house in three easy steps haven’t yet figured out a way to make shopping in their stores easy? There I was, attempting to buy a few simple items, when I found myself needing to ask for help. Now I’m sure that Big Box Warehouse believes that their aisle signs are perfectly self-explanatory, but unfortunately for me, I was not searching for something fitting into the categories of Paint, Plumbing, Lumber or Electrical. Trying not to startle the employee in the bright orange apron who seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, I politely said, “Excuse me, but could you please tell me where to find Damp Rid?” For those of you who aren’t familiar with this item, it’s a handy little chemical to keep your clothes from turning as moldy as bleu cheese and your basement from smelling like wet dog. And for those of you who aren’t familiar with this item, you aren’t alone. Mr. Big Box Worker admitted readily that he had never heard of this product and didn’t believe that the store carried it. He was, however, happy to help me wander around looking for the item because, as he put it so eloquently, “Every day someone asks me for a product that I don’t think we have, and sure enough, we find it.” Unfortunately, after an unsuccessful jaunt up and down one aisle, I abandoned my guide and set out to find the item on my own. And then I was rescued by another employee who must have read on my face the frustration following my travels with his less-than-helpful co-worker. “Damp Rid, you say? Why sure, I know right where that is!” I had been saved. Mr. Biceps led me quickly and confidently through the store, past the glimmering new riding mowers, beyond the super packs of 9 volt batteries, and right to the…paint aisle. Of course, if you have a problem with humidity in your home, the best place to look for help is in the paint aisle.

Having successfully completed the first task on my Saturday scavenger hunt, it was time to move on to the main task for the day…find the items needed to complete a magnificent flower bed, like those in the many magazines and books surrounding the check-out lines of the store. I quickly chose the flowers and lined them up on my cart, pleased with the work I had done. The next step was to find lawn timbers. Now, it seemed to me that the aisle labeled Lumber might be the best place to find wood, but having been in this store for

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Humor: DIY that went wrong – Part 4

March 15, 2011 By

My husband got a nail gun for his birthday. My husband shot himself with the nail gun shortly after his birthday. Did I rush to his side? Of course. Did I administer life saving aide just in the nick of time? I certainly did. It took me a few minutes, but by darned I saved my man. I would have gotten to him sooner but when I realized what had happened I fell to the floor in a fit of laughter, concerned laughter, obviously. I’m not cold hearted you know.

I told him to be careful. I told him not to play with it. Did he listen? Nope. Just like all good little boys he hid out in the back yard with it thinking I didn’t know what he was doing. There’s no way the bright orange air compressor hose that wound its way out of the garage, through the family room, the kitchen, the living room and out the back door could have given him away. He happily stabbed those little high pressured nail rockets into anything he could. An old dresser, a broken shelf, some firewood . . . his finger.

He could have poked an eye out! He almost did once actually. Apparently you shouldn’t use a screwdriver to pry things open. Duh, I could have told him that. Oh yeah! I DID! I came home from getting the kids from school and he had a huge bandage over his eye. You can still see the scar. If he would have plucked out one of those baby blues . . .

My husband is a very smart man. No, really he is. Seriously, we are talking high IQ range of intelligence here and yet he didn’t take into account the thickness of the wood as he needlessly shot sharp little nails into it at high velocity speed. The nail didn’t travel too far into his fleshy little finger, far enough to elicit a yelp of pitiful pain and string of no-no words. That was sufficient enough for my twisted sense of what’s funny and what isn’t to kick into overdrive.

I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was pain, embarrassment or misguided anger. He had no trouble interpreting the look on my face however. I try so hard to contain it, I do, but when someone falls or gets hit with something or anything of that nature I crack up! It’s awful! I don’t actually think its funny . . . yes I do, sometimes. Some of it is just nervous laughter and some of it is just a warped sense of humor I guess.

Let’s just suppose the nail had gone through the finger, do you think I would have laughed? Okay, maybe, but just a little. Now if the finger was like, hanging there or something I would be gagging too hard to giggle.

I don’t do it to be mean. I don’t do it because I enjoy someone else’s pain; I just find it the teeniest bit humorous at times. I need therapy. Maybe even medication . . . wait, I’m already medicated. Mental note to doc here, something might not be working right. I’m not the only one in my family with this issue’ my mom and my sister are the same way and as much as I hate to admit it, so are my kids.

When I told them what daddy had done their laughter rang out like a chorus of cherubic trolls. If you never fall in front of me, shoot yourself with a nail gun, stab yourself, slip, trip or accidentally find yourself trapped beneath a bookshelf, I can promise the only thing I will laugh at is your jokes . .

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Humor: Shopping at large chain DIY stores

March 12, 2011 By

I’ve been kept really busy at work for the last few weeks and I now find to my relief that I have a long weekend to kill, it’s still cold but April and spring are but a few weeks away and this usually sets me off on the ‘spring clean’ home improvement rampage, it’s a month of planning and preparation, Garden centres and DIY stores, bad backs and hammer rash. Still I’m nothing if not optimistic so on the first morning of my break I set out to the local ironmongers for the materials I need to erect a simple shelf. This local establishment is a handy stroll away and much more convenient than the 35 mile round trip to the nearest DIY superstore. So cheerily and with spring in step I stroll through the village and ponder the word ‘Monger’ where does it originate? You have your fish monger your ironmonger your well that’s about it really – what makes fish and iron so mongable and not other trades, why can’t we have a shoe monger or a second hand car monger? Why do only the purveyors of iron and fish get the title and what if you sold fish but your speciality was the Conger eel, perhaps you prided yourself with being able to supply the largest Conger eels on the market – would that make you the ‘longer Conger Monger?’ It’s a point to ponder. Finally I arrived at the ironmongers and set myself up for the usual belittlement these chaps love to inflict on the pasty faced DIY novice. I am greeted with the familiar suppressed smirk and roll of the eyes as I ask for some screws. “What kind of screws squire?” he asks loudly for the benefit of the rest of the shop. “Err” I shuffle and squirm looking about the shop for inspiration but take too long to answer which has him rolling his eyes again and wearily asking, ” What are they for?” Ah, I know this and quick as a flash I reply, “To put a shelf up with” This amuses him and his audience no end, people are taking mental note of the circumstances no doubt to regale the story to their pals in the pub later. The regulars at the Torch and Wicker man will be rolling in the aisles at my expense tonight. “What kind of shelf?” he said in an expectant way that had all and sundry holding their breath in anticipation. “Err, you know – a regular wooden thing on brackets – fits to a wall” This was Gold to the crowd who could contain their mirth no longer and let rip with snorts and such. He went on ” And what kind of wall are you fixing this shelf to?” which had someone turning down the radio so as not to miss a word of this double act.

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Humor: DIY that went wrong – Part 3

March 9, 2011 By

“It’s so simple, even a child can do it!”

How many times have we been inundated with this pervasive statement, a falsehood of DIY advertisements?

I’m not a child, being on the twilight side of half a century, and my memory is waning, but I am sure that as a child I certainly wouldn’t have been capable of it!

Instructions have evolved from a simple, “Snap the four legs into place on the table top, turn upright and enjoy” to a tome where even the time required to find out what to do for Step 1 will exceed the expected life of the goods.

Nevertheless, you make your first mistake by resolving to buy a Princess Doll House for your granddaughter, Jenny. The Princess comes with the misleading proviso, “some assembly is required.” This is insidious entrapment by the manufacturer that ought to incur the full wrath of our Supreme Court.

After some deliberation you make your second error of judgement by foolishly banishing the Princess to indefinite exile and opting to sequester the Queen version because the description seductively promises she will deliver “endless hours of pleasure, with more than twice the options the Princess provides.”

Needless to say, in your haste to grant Jenny an audience with the Queen, you fail to appreciate subtle anomalies. Whereas the Princess merely informs you that “some assembly is required”, the Queen is more demanding with her subjects by imposing that “substantial assembly will be required.”

You make the purchase, the mischief is done and the box is delivered poste-haste to your doorstep. The cardboard container is alarmingly larger than you remember. You’re not a short man, but you can’t see over its top.

No, the delivery man explains patiently, “I can’t take it inside because, sir, it won’t fit through the door!”

Jenny presses your hand and excitedly cries, “Can we open it, Grandpa?”

The flaps of the box that has confined the Queen to secluded darkness are flung open, but the height of her majesty’s enclosure still precludes a bird’s eye view of the contents.

Misguided faith in your resourcefulness has you believe that if you tilt the box ninety degrees sideways, its opening will be accessible from a lower altitude. However, the weight of the contents and the change in the centre of mass are factors that have not been included in your contingency plan. When the box is rotated sixty degrees from the vertical, a sudden shift in its contents instantly increases the weight your hands are supporting and control is wrested

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