I managed to keep my cool through another Home Depot adventure and I’m really kicking up my heels.

I wanted yard lights.  You know, the kind you stick in the ground?  The kind that absorb sunlight, and light your walk so your visitors don’t twist their ankles?

I chose another Home Depot this time, out south.  A “better” neighborhood.  And I found a cordial, exceedingly tall and outgoing clerk.  I showed him the lights that I wanted and I asked, “Are these plug-and-play?”  He laughed and replied, “Yes, they are!”  He opened the box to show me but alas:  They were not lights.  The box contained light components.  I told him, “I don’t want a light kit, I want lights.”

As the young man foraged through the shelves, I showed him one row of boxes labeled, “Light kits”, as opposed to the box which I had selected, labeled “lights”.  He didn’t understand and went in search of an older, presumably more experienced clerk.  That gentleman advised that all of their lights come in pieces.  I smiled.  He looked at me, no further words being available.  I broadened my smile; nay, I beamed.  I asked where the lights were.  He stuttered.  “These are lights,” he insisted.  I lifted the six parts which comprised each light assembly  out of the box and turned my smile to 200 watts.

A half-hour later, I checked out, with six fully assembled lights.  As the man assembled them, he told me all about driving to work in his Alpha Romeo with the top down. I told him about my first car, a British Racing Green MG Midget.  And when we got down to the last light, which had a bent cover, he slit open another unit of assemblage, replaced the damaged one, and returned  my smile.

Corley 2, Home Depot 0.  Or maybe — could we call that a win-win?