Labor Day Cont…It was a dark, dark day

In my previous post I referenced the strange change of events that occurred on Saturday after our successful ceiling demolition. In brief, it included things like:

  • Me accidentally throwing out a LARGE check in a trash can outside Costco and not realizing it until I had been shopping in the store for over an hour and was already on my way home. Yes, I did manage to retrieve it. It entailed me thrusting my rat arm down into the trash bin and yanking my money to freedom. No amount of Lysol can erase the day from my poor left arm.
  • Michael calling me to say that his truck wouldn’t start. Fortunately he was parked in front of our House and not stranded in the parking lot of Home Depot.
  • Us attempting to get jumper cables at ANY PLACE other than THE BAD PLACE. Keep in mind that it was now 6.30pm on Saturday. If we had been in LA, this would not have made a difference as you can get anything and everything there 24×7. Not so much here in Raleigh. The Ace Hardware was closed, the gas stations we stopped at didn’t have cables, Target was on the other side of town…so, sigh, we had no choice. Do you hear me??? We HAD NO CHOICE. We went to the BIG BAD PLACE.

I know, I know that there are lots of people that love this place. People we love, love this place. And really, I don’t judge you if you do (maybe just a little). I just don’t like their business practices against suppliers and vendors, their strong-arm tactics against local business, their tendency to pay lower and give fewer benefits to employees than their competitors, and their aisles and aisles of crap. Yes, there are valuable products like cleaning supplies and jumper cables available, but you do have to wade through miles of poorly made merchandise.

In this particular case though, we needed the BAD PLACE and so we went in. I must say that this particular store was in a rough part of town, so that just added to the experience. We also noticed that there were no windows in the entire store and the smell of McDonald’s and “Hot Chicken” permeated everything. I expect that if you walked out of the store wearing a shirt you just purchased that a pack of feral dogs would be close on your heels. Yummmm…chicken.

We grabbed the cables and then stood in line FOR LIKE FOREVER. Every shopper appeared to have brought their entire extended family, had giant baskets of crap to purchase and wanted to pay by check. I read a People magazine while Michael stood quietly and pretended to be invisible. Again I acknowledge a little bit of judgment happening here.

The worst part? The jumper cables did no good because the battery turned out to be dead. We went to the BAD PLACE for naught! I guess we’ll chalk this experience up to a mini cultural immersion program. I think I deserve a passport stamp for this.

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