So, I stopped by our local HomeBorg yesterday to pick up a few things. One of which was some trim for the bathroom. All seemed well as I selected the trim, cut it to a reasonable length and headed to the checkout. Of course, that feeling is about to dissapate.
As we are scanning items, it is noticed that there is no barcode on the trim. I offer to run back and grab another piece with the sticker on it, but I am assured by the cashier that she can find it. I tell her that it’s 3/4″ quarter round and fasten my seatbelt for a long ride.
She pokes at the computer a bit and then calls for help from the millwork department. I’m reassured when a gentlemen comes up rather quickly and asks what the problem is. He gets the lowdown, and again I offer to just run back and get another piece, but he assures me he’ll find it. So he pokes at the keyboard for a while. After a few seconds, I notice that he is just repeatedly, and rather rapidly, pressing the down arrow key. Ok, so I figure he did a search for “quarter round” and maybe there are a couple of dozen entries to look through. No problem, should just take a minute.
After 3 or 4 “a minutes” with no break in the tempo of the down arrow beat, I figured I was incorrect in my assumption.
tap tap tap tap tap
Air compressors
Air hose
Air tools
tap tap tap tap tap
Blades, saw
Blades, utility knife
tap tap tappity tap tap
Door, folding
Door, screen
tap tap tap tappity tappity tap
Hammer, ball peen
Hammer, claw
I can only surmise at this point that he is browsing the entire inventory of the store. So, once again, I offer to run back and get the bar code. “No that’s OK, I got a guy back there”, after which he picks up the phone, while still tapping the arrow key and proceeds to direct his “guy back there” to the right product. “It’s down on the left”, “Not that one, the one next to it”, “No, the 3/4″ stuff”. At this point, I must say that I was impressed with his multitasking abilities as that down arrow rhythm stayed steady throughout the whole conversation.
Eventually, he stops pressing the down arrow and jots a number, that I assume was read over the phone to him down on a scrap of paper. The cashier starts to enter the code and I start to dread what it’s going to be. At this point I don’t care if the code rang up to a $4000 tractor, I would just pay it to get out of there. Fortunately for me, and anticlimatically for you, it came up to something that was $.83 a foot. I still don’t care if it was right or not.
