So, over the course of doing a few small jobs around the house (that should have been done months ago), I've gained some wisdom on hardware stores that I felt like passing on. It is the following:
-Look for the old guy.
You know who I'm talking about. The world-weary senior citizen wearing a red vest, looks disgusted with their surroundings? Yeah. Him. He's the guy you want.
Forget the teen idiot on the register, that twenty-nothing with the vapid smile. No, they're not for you. When it comes to advice on hardware, these people can perform one of two useful things:
1) Tell you "aisle 10."
2) Tell you where to find the old guy.
That's all. Nothing else.
Oh, they'll try. They'll march you to the right aisle for the topic you mention, they might even grab a part off the wall and studiously read the label - "It says here, '3Z-3C,' which means, uh..."
Now if the old guy were here, he'd take your misshapen lump of metal (formerly a valve), squint at it for about a minute, then walk off with it. He will not explain. He doesn't have to, he's the old guy - you came to him, remember?
You and the twenty-nothing tag along behind, the nothing holds up a handful of parts they were about to recommend. "I thought that-"
The old guy looks up, just for a second. The nothing goes quiet and walks away like a beaten dog.
Old guy's got your valve apart, and is staring at a deformed lump of black slag that, in a former life, was a washer of some kind. Old guy is unphased. All of a sudden, he's Grissom, Columbo, Dirty-Frickin' Harry rolled into one.
"Ehrm," he says, holding up a single tapered washer. You stare. "The large rise on the old one tipped me off, its was tapered."
Comprehension sets in. "How much?"
Old guy looks down. "Thirty six cents."
You stop reaching for the ten spot and thank him. Old guy smiles for a second, briefly validated, then lapses back into full blown contempt for the universe.
And then he's gone - no, actually, he's still there having a conversation with himself. But he could be gone - is mentally - he's just waiting for the next petititioner.
"Uh, sir? Do you know anything about plastic garage-door-opener chains?"
Your cue to leave.
Up front, idiot teen takes your money and waits for the register to dispense the correct change. He complains loudly to no one that he hasn't been able to get something to drink for over an hour.
You smile. Despite him and his tag team partner, you found the old guy.
6 comments:
As a former hardware store employee, let me be the first to tell you that I didn't know anything. In fact, I was consigned to the cash register area and told not to help with anything. The old guys knew everything. In fact, sometimes, on a slow day, you might catch two of them within earshot, and then you'd have a "old guy" debate...
Patron: Excuse me, I need to get my thingydohicky retuned, and I seem to need...
Old Guy1: Well, it's obvious what you need. You need a flange prop.
Old Guy2: Geez. You don't have to by a flange prop. A flang prop is just going to cause the vilivalve to get stuck. What's wrong with you?
Old Guy1: The vilivalve problem is way old. They fixed that with the vilivalve updates on last years model's, don't you remember?
Old Guy2: That didn't fix the problem. Plus a vilivalve combustor is going to cost a lot more than simple flang prop.
Old Guy1: He just wants the dohickey working, he doesn't care if it is pretty.
Patron: Well, actually...
But most of the time, I kept my nose down, my eyes firmly on the ground and my ears open. Those old guys knew a lot. Of course, they thought I was an idiot because I didn't know anything about hardware, but I learned a lot.
I should add (in fact meant to add) the third valuable piece of information the non-old guy employees could have supplied:
"I don't know."
Which is a perfectly defensible response.
My big issue (and the impetus behind me writing this whole thing) is with people who don't know, but go to great lengths to conceal this fact.
Hey, fess up- we can both go to the old guy and learn something. In my case, I had twenty-nothing waste about a half an hour of my day, plus he sold me the wrong part.
I went back to the same store, spoke to a different walking doorknob, before going to a different store and finding my old guy.
I even said to him "I shoulda come here first," and he just grinned.
-Right before he justly gave me a look that told me I was a dork.
Honestly, by then - I was so happy to have the right bit, he could have chewed me out for ten minutes. I got what I needed and the job got done. Head and shoulders over what those other turkeys did for me.
I think that you are truly an adult when you learn to say that you don't know everything. The people who say they know things that they don't drive me crazy. It happens a lot with computer people; they don't like to admit when they don't know something.
When I learned that lesson, my life became much easier.
We have a small hardware store like that here. It's owned by Rachel's distant uncle. When you walk in, the old guy (or the apprentice middle-aged guy, who is almost as good) takes a look at you and immediately sizes you up to see if you are competent. In my case, they realize I am not and he comes up to me and asks what it is I need. I tell (or show him) what it is, he asks what it's for, I blunder my way through the description, and half way through he finishes my thought, gets the item, and rings me up. Never been in that store for longer than 2 minutes.
It's the greatest experience I've ever been in.
Sounds a little more "Hardware Hank" and a little less "Home Depot" to me.
Home Depot is the holy land of no-nothing staff. Since they have so much stuff, you get that extra layer of "this isn't my area" grafted onto the usual problems.
I was in a Home Depot one morning with a clerk who was so unresponsive, I waved my hand right in front of her eyes to get her to notice me. Your average person, this would tick them off, she just blinked and started scanning my stuff.
Unbelievable.
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