Albert's not my real name. I don't want anyone here knowing or using my real name. That's my name for me.
Dear Home Depot Employee,
Recently my toddler came home from preschool with some words that he certainly didn’t learn at home. They are not nice words. They are words like “shit-ass” and “skunk-fucker.” I think I know who the culprit is, the son of Lynn, the trashy bottle blond who works the graveyard shift at the diner over by the bus station, and who always brings her son to school in some new guy’s car, usually some rusted-out muscle car with no mufflers. Should I talk to the teacher, the principal, or to Lynn herself? I’m not a very physically confrontational person, and I’m pretty sure Lynn’s been to jail. She has that hardened look. Help!
Perplexed (and Frightened) in Poughkeepsie
Dear Perplexed,
Well, I guess you’re not here for the free contractor grade coffee, are you? Let me see if I can help you out here. What I think you’re looking for is some three quarter inch ply, pressure treated. Some people will tell you if it’s not going to be exposed to weather, you don’t need pressure treated, but we always recommend it. And not because it’s more expensive. I can’t exactly tell you why we recommend it, but that’s what I’ve been told to say. Was there anything else?
Dear Home Depot Employee,
On a recent visit, my parents used my guest bedroom to host a drug fueled orgy. At least, that’s what it sounded like, and what it looked like the next day after they left. There were burn marks on the carpet, and stains on the mattress and walls that I don’t even want to imagine the source of. This was a couple of months ago, and now they want to come and visit again. How do I broach the subject of how my house is not some kind of biker pad? Or should I just tell them to get a hotel? Should I tell them I’ll be out of town? Is this the opportunity to finally assert my adulthood? I mean, if you don’t do it at fifty-five, when are you going to do it, right?
Needing Guidance in Needles, Arizona
Dear Needing,
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I’m a padder. All these cloth patches I have safety-pinned to my apron? About 80% of them are copies of others I have. I’ve only been here about three weeks, but my manager told me I’d seem like I had a little bit more of a clue–that’s how she put it–if my apron looked seasoned. I couldn’t tell a drill bit from a jackhammer if I was on Who Wants to be a Millionaire and I had all my lifelines. So as for hooking up your sink and dishwasher, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I went to fucking Julliard. I can play “Flight of the Bumblebees” on a bassoon. And I’m here, for eight bucks an hour, trying to figure out what in hell you’re talking about. And I’m high. Sorry, no dice.
Dear Home Depot Employee,
Do you happen to know where the paint section is?
Hopefully Painting in Lansing, Michigan
Dear Hopefully,
The first thing you need to do is figure out what it is you want. It sounds corny, I know, but you might stand in front of a mirror and say, “what is it that Hopefully Painting wants out of life?” And then you have to figure out the steps necessary to get what it is you want. Say you don’t like your job. What can you do to change it? You can try to fit in better at work, or start taking steps to find a new line of work. This sounds pretty pie-in-the-sky in this economy, I know, but it’s important to remember that you have options. And like muscles, options are only worth something when you exercise them.
Dear Home Depot Employee,
Can you direct me to the lawnmowers?
Grass Assassin in Manhattan, Kansas
Dear Grass,
I’m on break right now, but if you push that button right there, somebody will come and help you. But just so you know, I’m pretty sure we don’t stock those here.
