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?