Yesterday being Father's Day, and me not possessing any skills on the grill, I offered to make the emergency run for another tank of propane.
Put the tank in the car, took a quick drive to the local home improvement uberstore, which we'll call Blowe's in the interest of maintaining anonymity.
Wheeled the empty tank in a cart inside, and politely asked the young ladies at the customer service desk, "Excuse me, where can I exchange this tank?"
Eyes widened with utter shock, I immediately got met with a scolding. "Uh, first of all, you're not supposed to bring that here."
"Oh, ok I didn't know that."
"Yeah, you're not supposed to bring that in here you're supposed to bring it to the garden center but you can pay for it here and pick it up there."
"Yeah, you shouldn't have brought that in here."
"So I'm confused. If i wanted to Exchange... The... Tank... what am I supposed to do?"
"Well you're SUPPOSED to go straight to the garden center. But you can pay for it here."
"So, you're saying I should take this to the garden center now."
"Right. But you can pay for it here."
"So how do I get to this garden center?"
"It's straight down there."
"So I can go straight down there."
"No you can't. You have to take it outside, you're not supposed to have that inside the store."
"So how do I get there?"
"Go that way... and then go around the building ... to the outside of the garden center in the other direction..... So... did you like wanna pay for it here?"
"Christ. Did you guys need to make it SO confusing?" (I tried to laugh, so I didn't sound like a complete bitch.)
So... thanks for indulging me. That whole scenario really pissed me off, and the whole while I just wanted to take that little non-customer-service brat by the ear and say, "You coulda just told me to go outside to the garden center for the propane tanks, because they're not allowed in the store. Let me talk to your mother about your sassy mouth."
Hahahahah -- pinching the ear, that's so old school. Something my mom would've done. There are lots of little funny things that I think are starting to make me sound old-school. Like the phrase, "Excuse me, son." HAHAHA seriously! I don't know when the heck that little habit started!
Man oh man. The stare and the threat of an ear pinching were enough to keep me in line. And the worry of either and/or both punishments kept me in line even when my parents weren't anywhere to be seen.
Why did a few anger-management-class dropouts have to ruin it for the rest of us who have to deal with these brats on a regular basis???