Jun 21 2008
Lust Never Sleeps: Why Small Business Owners are Too Busy Surviving to Get Their Freak On!
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I’m a sloppy barbecue chef. Nothing draws the flavor of hops out of an import than a sirloin that’s been marinating for twelve hours. Once on the grill I continue to apply a liberal smothering of steak sauce.
Or as Winnie the Pooh would interject – smackeral, Piglet.
All that tangy, salty liquid flashes and splashes into the guts of the grill. Neil Young was right: Rust never sleeps. Now I have replaced the burners and jets of a few barbecues in my attempt to reduce suburban waste. If diapers do not decompose in landfills, will my great grandchildren be scaling the summit of a colossal mountain of Weber and Coleman cast-iron cookware?
The old barbecue just ain’t what she used to be. So yesterday I shot her. The Missus issued a simple command: Go buy a new barbecue.
I like to frequent Mom-and-Pop hardware stores. Hire the little guy. Invest in the local economy instead of shipping my cash southward on the Turnpike to some corporate headquarters in Delaware.
For years I’ve patronized Becker Family’s Hardware on Route 34 in Colts Neck. As a Realtor® getting keys cut is a weekly occurrence. My man Jerry cuts a mean stencil of Schlage aluminum. Pat is always courteous and quick to assist.
But at six o’clock in the evening I found myself meandering towards … one of those Conglomerate Big Box home improvement airplane hangars.
Disclaimer: Should I identify this public traded company? I mean, whose going to file a legal action against a consumer blogging a complaint? How about Freedom of Speech (while the Congress approves massive wire-tapping and privacy invasion)? Pass.]
Beckers closes at five. I’m not a conglomerate “homer.” Probably because the corporate borg undermines American manufacturing and disenfranchises competition. No. I believe the Big Box retail concept reduces me and my money to Small Shopper Status.
I walked into the store and approached a young male employee loitering amongst the young female cashiers, strutting his denim overall’d self. The Lion King meets Clerks.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted.
Immediately the young man turned around, entered my personal space and boomed, “WE DON’T HAVE ANY!” directly into my face. He closed with a smirk and half-sinister chuckle.
“Is this boy impaired?” I asked myself. I was twenty years old once. I remember trying to impress young women. I was so startled that I didn’t hear his condescending apology.
“Dude, you know I’m just fooling with you.”
He cleared his throat and tried desperately to recall his corporate Customer Service training.
“How can – er, may – I help you?” Props for conjugating the verb correctly.
I grumbled and walked away. Even my knees creaked. Truth be told, I sloughed away like a grumpy old man. I just wasn’t in the mood to serve as fodder for adolescent lust. Probably because I’m no longer an adolescent and at my age lust is scheduled between oil changes and Graduation Parties. The lad was rude or crazy. Is this the mental state of service?
Rust never sleeps in an old barbecue and apparently lust never sleeps in department stores. The Customer Service desk politely asked me to return outside to the grill section and assistance would arrive shortly.
Assistance appeared as – you guessed it — my favorite playa.
“I’m sorry about before. I can get someone else to help you,” Don Juan DeWalt sheepishly and rationally offered.
“You’ll do,” I countered, not realizing until later that I subconsciously tossed out the last line from Babe the Pig. I felt both youthful and magnanimous again. The young horny squire apologized. Let’s move on. Let’s start the healing.
Besides, I was hungry.
I found a suitable grill. The young man helped load the box onto my truck. The Vice President of Human Resources would be heartened to hear he recovered adequately during the consumer’s (that’s me) shopping experience.
Yet that outburst and my subsequent embarrassment would never have happened at Becker’s Hardware. Yes, conglomerates offer wider selections and competitive pricing. There’s something to be said for the small business owner treating his patrons larger than life, however.
Next time I’ll cook my steak in the oven and wait for Mom-and-Pop to open in the morning. Or take the little woman out to eat and maybe later go parking up on the Scenic Overlook. Hubba hubba.
Andrew J Lenza is the Broker and Owner of Andrew J. Lenza Realty in Colts Neck. When Andrew isn’t writing or enjoying Monmouth County life he is serving his clients needs in the residential and commercial sectors of the market. You can visit Andrew at www.andrewlenza.com
© Copyright, 2008. Andrew J. Lenza, All Rights Reserved.






