Small, locally-owned businesses offer the concept that our purchase will have a direct impact on its owners and employees, and actually make a difference. That’s why I called a nearby landscape supplier, to give them my business and to ask if I could get help weighing three pails of stone and loading them into my car. This wouldn’t be a problem, the employee assured me, and someone could meet me in the yard in ten minutes. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m disabled and would really appreciate it.”
Spotting me among the piles of stone was easy; I was the only person in the entire yard. I lined up my pails in front of the blue crushed rock and waited. After several minutes, two more customers pulled into the yard and they waited for an employee with me. After several more minutes a dump truck pulled in and I knew by its logo that my help had finally arrived. After it had parked, the driver got out and waited on the other two customers, but when he was finished with them, went back to working in the yard. Then, he went into the yard office. Then, he came out to get the mail. Then, he went back into the office. Never mind that he seemed determined to take the longest possible time between each of these points.
I knew he saw me. He looked right at me when he entered the yard, but I continued to wait anyway. When he finally came back out to mail something I decided to remind him that I was waiting for his help. I yelled, “Is there a shovel we can use?” But without even looking at me or saying a word, he pointed to one hanging on the side of a building. Then, he walked back into the office. That’s when my patience ran out.
How badly did I need this particular stone? How much more of this was I expected to take? I called the main office three miles away and expressed my frustration, then waited some more. When the driver left the office again, I saw him grab the shovel and walk toward me. When he finally reached my car he said nothing, just leaned the shovel against the car’s bumper and walked away. Was this really happening? I couldn’t believe this was happening. After throwing my empty pails back in my car I expressed my high level of disgust over his unwillingness to help me, yet all he could say was, “Well, it’s too bad you feel that way. Have a nice day.” Before driving home I took a short detour.
When I arrived at the company’s main office I asked to speak with the person in charge, but instead of the owner or manager coming out to greet me, I was told, “He said you can go back there and talk to him,” and the employee motioned toward the back office. Honestly, how much worse was this going to get? Even with my cane it was a challenge getting back there, but by that point I was up for it. There sat the owner and his wife but neither of them looked up or greeted me. What left my mouth was nearly duplicated from what I had just told their driver, only what followed was much worse. Even without an ounce of sincerity, he at least said, “Have a nice day,” yet after recounting my experience to the owner there was nothing but silence. No resolution, no compromise. I guess I could rule out any form of an apology, too. There were, however, a few things they managed to say before I was done talking, but those served only to make things worse. They stated always having done business this way, never helping customers in the stone yard, and staying in business for 52 years. They were so proud to stand their ground. “Wow. 52 years,” I said. “That is a long time for anyone to stay in business. But how does that help me?” Neither of them opened their mouths and they continued to just sit there like two turds. Their silence was more offensive than being told to take a hike. It took me a while to get back to my car but offered them plenty of time to reconsider and call out to me. Still, nothing.
Never before in my life have I felt driven to carry a sign. In fact, whenever I see people protesting and marching around I immediately think, “Oh, come on. What is this, the ‘60s?” But that’s only because I hadn’t experienced something so personal and inhuman as being refused help when I needed it. When the weather is nice you can see me from northbound 251, sitting right next to the driveway of that locally-owned business. I’m easy to spot. I’m the only guy out there holding a sign.
3 Mulligans 