Spring has most definitely come. The sun is out, the grass needs cutting, the birds are feverishly gathering fluffy bits to make their nests nice and comfy and .... Horror of horrors, GB is surreptitiously, seeking a project. Warning bells are PEALING.
Any project which, hopefully, will necessitate some dismantling, some rebuilding, some nails .. maybe, even some screws .. and a golden life of being "just too busy" with the "project" to even consider anything so trivial as meal making or emptying dishwashers or heaven forbid, trivial conversation.
It is decided. The Ancient Bed Couch is to be Resurrected. Hallelujah. A Miracle in the Making.
I didn't protest too much. In fact, I, being of sound mind and body, even aided and abetted in the endeavour. Needless to say, I was allocated the more menial tasks. Not for me the wielding of a hammer or the droning of the drill .... No, I was destined for far greater things. I was despatched to the Doodah Shop.
The Doodah Shop, as you may or may not know, is an establishment where it is possible to purchase any make, shape, size or type of screw, nail, washer, tack, wirey bit, plasticky bit, woody bit. A veritable paradise for the DIY enthusiast. Unfortunately, it is also traditionally, a male only preserve.
Armed with the "list", I boldly stride where no woman has gone before. I forage and search through boxes and shelves seeking the "listed" items. All to no avail. All around me, men are picking up screws and nails, bits of 2 by 4, lengths of copper wire and if, by some remote chance, that, what they seek is not available, they are immediately attended to by one or other of the most attentive, male assistants. Much head scratching and nodding, chin rubbing and trouser hiking later, the object of their desire is retrieved from some hitherto, unseen crate partly concealed by a newly delivered batch of aforementioned screws, nails, wirey bits .................... This success is greeted by mutterings of "Well, fair play to you Mick, I wouldn't have thought of looking in there for it ... thats grand ... just the job"
Meanwhile, I am invisible. I've been invisible for nearly 15 minutes.
Well, I must be ... because otherwise, surely somebody would have asked me if I needed assistance, wouldn't they?
I'm sick of being invisible. So, I stride over to the counter - I like to stride - its very male.
The Doodah Shop is empty now except for a youngish man and what looks like his 10 or 11 year old son, deep in conversation over a yellow bin labelled 50% off. No competition.
Behind the counter are the "attentive" male assistants. Father and son? Uncle and nephew? A definite family resemblance.
I'm still invisible. Should I have put on the war paint?
I'm also angry. I feel like saying "excuse me, do you work here or are you just a decoration?" or "any chance that one of you 2 dinosaurs could get your heads out of your asses and serve me?" But I resist. I smile sweetly and am duly rewarded with a grunt and served by the older of the two. He despatches the younger with my list and HEY PRESTO ..... within nano seconds he returns with all the requested items. That should make for a satisfied customer right?
Wrong.
Money changes hands, purchased goods are bagged, I smile sweetly, again, and say quite brightly "Does one HAVE to have a penis to be served here in under 15 minutes?"
I did feel a little sorry for them. Not an attractive pair with their jaws hanging. A right pair of doodahs.
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8 comments:
The Campptown ladies sing this song,
Doo-da, Doo-da
The Camptown racetrack's five miles long
Oh, de doo-da day
I distinctly remember a hardware shop experience when I was newly pregnant with T -- aka minus the large belly but with the swollen bosom... received great attention from the male assistants. So, perhaps, if not a penis then large breasts?
Good luck with the resurrection project. After the long wait for supplies, surely the project will go well now. I hope that you do not need to return for other items. But, maybe the next they will wait on you quickly as you have reminded them how a business should be run. Good for you. Happy Spring
The task usually assigned to those who would aspire to help around our house when the kids were growing up was that of flashlight holder.If you weren't deemed old enough, smart enough, male enough, or knowledgeable enough to do the fun stuff, you got to hold the flashlight! And God forbid you should let it wobble....that would unleash a tirade of exotic curses, delivered in a variety of east European languages, the better to protect the young, innocent ears of the flashlight holder......It didn't take long for them to learn to politely decline when asked if they'd like to help work on the car, or whatever male jobs were being performed in the garage.....
Ha ha! What a great story!
Good for you for your parting shot, I wouldn't have been able to resist either.
My darling husband gets his testosterone pumping every now and then with a "project". He looks at me beseechingly and asks me to be "involved" so we can say "we both did it"... yeah right!
His involvement is the hammering, screwing, measuring, cutting, preening and puffing.
My involvement is running for a required hammer, nail and/or a cold drink and standing around saying the required periodical ooh and ahh and "you are so clever".
Such fun.
So glad you had the last word!
We have huge Doodah barns over here, & there are now lots of ferocious female DIYers. No one dare ignore them. But then, a lot of the excellent staff members are now female too- real women, doing it well!!
Hope all goes well with the project.
I cringe whenever GOM starts something... we are still waiting for the doorbell, & we are now on the 3rd replacement model! haha.
LOL! You echo some of my sentiments. I am often utterly amazed, nay, flabbergasted at some of the tasks and situations that supposedly require a penis.
Getting the correct parts without being lied to and told they don't exist? Evidently this requires a penis.
Not getting misled and overcharged by auto mechanics? This, too, requires a penis.
Making minor adjustments to one's sewing machine? According to the people at the local sewing machine shop, they have "a man" who does this. Presumably he has a penis.
I have a husband and a young son, so I'm somewhat familiar with these appendages. I have yet to figure out how men use them to hold screwdrivers, tune up sewing machines, or assess car repairs. Moreover, none of those sound like activities I would want to involve my private parts in.
Ah come on! Once a week?? You're starving me here....
hilarious! and I know just how you feel!!!
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