"When I have a brand new hairdo. With my eyelashes all in curl, I float as the clouds on air do. I enjoy being a girl!" (lyrics from I Enjoy Being a Girl, Flower Drum).
This is a sad reality, but I try not to wear heels or dresses to the hardware store. The experiences when doing so is . . .well. . . altered. I'm not saying I storm in like Rose the Riveter, but I just try not to draw attention to the fact that I generally have no idea what I am doing. Yesterday, I went against this rule and sped over to the hardware store directly from the office in my skirt and heels. Big mistake. Picking up a piece of moulding from the hardware store was the first horror with me speaking like this "you know the piece. . .with the sides, and the points?". This received blank stares and followed with me heading to some back room to choose the piece myself. Fine. I can handle that.
But, the paint store. Oh, dear. I just wanted to get some drywall patches. Nothing crazy. But, the questions, the probing, it was like a CIA interrogation. What are you using this for? Do you have tape? What about caulking? Once I explained what I was doing and the man helping me said plainly, with a drawn face and hearty eastern European accent, "that's not how you do it". I sheepishly lowered my head and shuffled behind him through the store in my heels and pearls. During the whole explanation the phrases began with, "tell the person who is doing this, to ...". Finally, he said sternly, "Who is doing this". I gazed up and stammered, "well, mmmmeee?". You could have counted to ten while he looked me up and down. His response (dead serious), "Well, why not? I guess it's not rocket science." Translation: I guess some prissy GIRL can try her hand at it - knock yourself out! This was followed by, "Look, try not to set your expectations too high, OK?". Um, thanks?
Next time. . .jeans.
Somebody's Watching Me
5 hours ago