There are times in any relationship when your partnership is tested. In this day and age of technology and constantly connected communications, partners are able to stay informed and aware of the other's mood, status, and progress, even when significantly detached from the situation or event. It's a blessing and a curse that previous generations didn't need to be bothered by. But what would possibly lead to the following question and answer text exchange over the weekend? The root of the scenario may surprise you.
One would think, given our 11 plus years of frequenting the various aisles of the several area big box stores, that we've accumulated an aptitude for their layout and function that places us beyond the intimidation litmus of their ways. From plumbing to hardware, tools to lumber, we've been there, done that, and have been back again. We've even gotten to a point where we can walk into a store we're not familiar with and navigate their labyrinth of aisles, end caps, and cut throughs in an efficient, calm, and collected manner.
One would think this is all very true, and we are beyond basic intimidation or frustration when we are within the walls of the big boxes, but one would be incorrect if this assumption was granted to the store as a whole.
Nay, there is still one section of almost any store that takes the normal sanity of a shopping experience and somehow transforms it into something more fitting of a padded room and straight jacket. I'm referring to the large fenced-in outdoor garden centers tagged onto the side of the stores like a grotesque boil on the face of a model.
This weekend marked our annual obligatory gardening center adventure. The one weekend a year where we must face our fears and tackle the intimidation headlong. The goal is simple, pick out a few essential gardening supplies, a handful of plants and herbs, a couple of bags of mulch and dirt, and bring it all home in one piece. Simple enough? Yeah, it always sounds so "simple enough."
While we normally attack this project as a team, since teams have twice the mental fortitude, we have an injury on our hands preventing this. Wendy pulled a muscle in her back this weekend...while seated at a table eating chips and guacamole...and was out of commission for the trip. She sent me off to the big box with a post-it note shopping list, a smile, and a nod of her head wishing me luck and the desire for me to pick up the right stuff for our garden to make it look something like this...
Simple task, no? No.
I arrived so innocuously and began my expedition, dropping by the home and garden section to purchase a new hose and hose winder. Our old hose had seen better days and had been tossed at the end of last season.
Though I innocently expected to waltz in and out without a single issue, my first update to Wendy (who, I remind you, was lame and in bed), came only a few minutes after my arrival when trying to decide on the hose winder house to purchase. During this call I got the information I needed, but also learned that she was on the phone and text messages would be easier moving forward if I had additional questions/concerns. Such a simple instruction, but neither of us knew what lay ahead.
After loading up an entire rolling palette of supplies, including dirt, mulch, pine bark, hose paraphernalia, and a few garden tools that I swear are necessary, I reached the point of plant selection. Fear, loathing, paranoia, and frustration rapidly descended on my shopping trip.
Selecting the variety of plants for the summer's garden is not my strong suit. It's actually not my any suit. At no other point in my experience at any big box store do I ever need to worry about how much direct sunlight a purchase needs. I am never faced with the fear that I may kills a sheet of plywood if I don't water it enough or put it too near a power tool. Not to mention that I simply don't have a clue about what I'm doing in the garden. This is Wendy's realm (although I think she hates it as much as I do). But, as I've said, she was lame and in bed.
My shopping list was "simple."
- 4x Tall Colorful Plant
- 4x Medium Colorful Plant
- 4x Trailing Plants
- Basil
- Rosemary
- Lavender
- Cilantro
- Anything else pretty
After some grotesque amount of time, I began to reach my breaking point. The plants, herbs, and everything else was scattered all over the place. From the standard garden center are to the makeshift pontoon in the parking lot, hastily thrown up to meet the needs of the throngs of garden shoppers. I sent the following to Wendy.
Not realizing the extent of my unravelling to this point, Wendy attempted to send me a constructive message, in a simple attempt at helping me to discern the information I was in search of. Her simple and very reasonable message was not met with an evenly tempered response from my side of the loony bin.
At this point our give and take begins. My crazy response is then met with a solid push back, reminding me that Wendy is, as I mentioned earlier, lame and in bed. Point taken, my fault...we're in this together, even if we're apart.
I quickly begin to get more and more irrational. Wendy is my audience of one, and I'm trying to remain calm to the people at the store, so she lucks out and gets all of my crazy. This, my friends, is what true love is actually about.
Over the next several seconds I get to vent. I vent about whatever I want to vent about, and Wendy gets to read it. Whether you're faux wood outdoor furniture or inflatable yard decor, you draw my ire. There's nothing off limits. At one point, I even crazily try to get back on topic in order to understand my task with a ridiculous question.
"Are annuals trailing?" What kind of moron question is that? It's a moron question I'd ask, that's what.
Then the unthinkable happens. I'm probably an hour invested in this shopping trip, and though I'm having difficulty, I take solace in the fact that I have a large push cart set aside with my successfully gathered items, just waiting for checkout...or so I think. When I finally decide to throw in the towel on the plant purchases and retrieve my spoils for checkout, I realize the gravity of the situation.
OH NO THEY DIDN'T! This caps lock yelling was real caps lock yelling, not like my insane ramblings from earlier. This. Had. Just. Happened. Wendy's outrage in her simple "Wtf!" was spousal support. It told me I wasn't crazy, this was an atrocity, I was justified in whatever response I might bring. So I channelled my inner Milton, from Office Space, and responded in the most level headed way I could think of.
As I tempered my outrage and collected my thoughts as best as I could. I'm not sure why, but I started to dwell on random things related to plant inventory availability. I also tried my best to leverage my random ranting in an attempt to get more of a rise out of Wendy, who was lame and in bed.
Wendy then reminded me how we've not had a functional master bathroom bathtub for a mere four years. Flustered by her retort which I have almost no defense against, I continued to make very little sense.
Note: the name of the store as well as more colorful language has been redacted by means of cute icons.
Feeling defeated, I checked out with the plants and items I had collected for a second time and headed home. After unloading everything from the car I had a terrible realization. The bag of small items I had picked out two times and then finally purchased was not in the car. These were the only items that were bagged, and it seems the cashier failed to transfer the bag to either one of my two large rolling carts full of junk. I had also failed to realize this. Angry as I could possibly be, I climbed back into my car and drove back out to the big box that was in possession of my merchandise.
Can you believe it? They had put the bag away, had no record of it, and were now giving me a hard time about allowing me to pick up the stuff I had paid for. Words can't even describe my frustration.
The customer service manager finally stepped in and eased the situation, allowing me to simply grab the things I had purchased but left behind. I then headed home, exhausted and defeated by another year going to the garden section of the big box. I hope Wendy's back is healed sufficiently so that she's able to ensure this disaster is never faced along again. I wouldn't wish the level of confusion I had in this scenario upon my worst enemies.
Do you have a particular section of any home stores that give you a sense of paralysis and fear? If so, do you end up in a random text conversation with your significant other in order to cope? I sure hope so, it would make me feel better about my disaster.
