Above is the picture of the truck that blogger wouldn’t let me upload the other day. Isn’t it pretty? We are the 3rd owner and we bought it from a friend of mine, who took care of it quite well. We have had people knock on the door offering to buy this baby, but no…we like the relationship we have with Oval. Oval is the name of our truck….don’t ask me why, it just came out that way, from sweet husband this time, not me. The previous owner called the truck Riley…not sure of that one either. Anyway Oval the Wonder truck is a working truck, hauling compost from the nursery, hauling junk to the transfer station, making the needed donation run to the second hand store, and most importantly, hauling ANYTHING from the Home Store….which reminds me of a story…got a sec?
I took a half day off from work on Friday to get a head start on the long weekend, and I’m taking Monday off too. Our household has been in desperate need of a new gas BBQ for quite some time. It literally is falling apart and I’m beyond thinking it’s safe to eat anything cooked on it. So off we go to our local Home Store…let’s call it Lowe’s as in “How lowe’s doz wez has to go to not have any customer service” apparently not too far. We had finalized our purchasing decision a couple of days prior but needed the help of Oval the Wonder Truck for hauling purposes, because you just can’t stuff one of these BBQ things in the back seat of a Sebring convertible. Our decision included having one that comes in a box, because Sweet Husband said “If there’s gonna be scratches, by God, I want to be the one that makes them” ok, I don’t care as long as we get one. Once at the store we find this young child/man worker with that “I’m SO underqualified to actually even have a job” look. He really wanted to help us, but seriously didn’t have the skill set that was going to be very helpful. I had had a situation earlier in the season with him and it was not altogether pleasant at all, but I’ve blocked out most it, so let’s continue shall we. We tell him our immediate BBQ needs and he points to the ceiling and says…”I’ll have to get a manager to get the fork lift and have one brought down.” Sure ok, we aren’t in a real big hurry, 10 minutes pass…we see him wandering off in the distance….10 more minutes pass, he strolls up saying that the manager is on the phone and will be up front in 2 minutes…10 MORE minutes tick by….we think about ordering and having a pizza delivered to the lawn furniture section where we have taken up residence. We hover in the department another 10-15 minutes with narry a glance from anyone in the store. It is becoming quite evident that Lowe’s has had enough income for the day and didn’t need anymore…so we leave. It was a slow smoldering burn that made us leave, it was a slooooowww Friday afternoon at Lowe’s and we could get NO help.
We head off to pick up Sweet step daughter and then go to Sears, where America shops, or is that K-mart, oh well. Sears will surely have the grill we desire, but wait Lowe’s is on the way to Sears from Sweet Step Daughters other house, the thoughtful store employees at Lowe’s must have taken the BBQ off the freakin top rack by now, as another 30 minutes has since passed. We go BACK to the store, we park hopefully up front in the loading zone (handicap) run in and to our amazement NOTHING has changed, no BBQ on the floor for us. This time I corner a manager, tell him the short version of the story and he points to ACE, who in turn points to something about my eye level and says, “Sure, they are right here, let’s just get a flatbed and you’ll be on your way in no time. We just look at each other and fight back all the words we want to say, let’s go home, put this thing together and call it good.
We go home, unload the huge box and sweet step daughter and I head off to the grocery store. We come back shortly there after and behold the BBQ is not done. In fact it looks like someone had barfed up gas grill parts all over the back patio. What the hell happened, I ask sweet husband. “The fucking thing is broken and dented and scratched beyond belief, it looks like someone shoved it off the top shelf of the god damned store.” (before I continue I did ask permission if I could write about this escapade, he said yes) So the neat and careful assembly of the BBQ components into it’s original container began. My sweet husband invented some new swear words in his efforts to repackage the BBQ from hell, none are printable, but if you email me… He did a much finer job than I would have done of cramming all that crap into the box, he actually got the flaps closed. He was so mad that sweet daughter and I watched and tried to stay out of the way, very far away. I know that none of this is directed at us so I am very patient with him on the very rare occasion his kettle pops. Finally the shit is back in the box and we can all sit down to a nice plesant lunch that I have lovingly prepared, hotdogs cooked on the death grill. Sweet husband had gone in to get his lunch and on the way back outside, drops his pepsi can, causing an upwards splash resulting in a very large wet spot in his groin area and to show his delight in this event he stomps as hard as he can on the pepsi can missing the can and almost breaking his foot on the cement patio. ah the good life!! Later when we return from Lowe’s empty handed without a substiture BBQ (no one there to bring one down)Sweet husband wraps his foot in a cold compress and we talk about the event of the day, over martini’s, really large ones and how we should answer on the survey they provided with the original receipt,insert evil laugh here!