We drove the fifteen miles to the Lowe's this afternoon. Could have bought local, but in this instance I wanted the brand-name. We have had an Insinkerator disposal fourteen years with no stoppages, leakages, or other difficulties. Until now. It leaks. I mean, it has withstood the pressures of our garbage for a very long time, so no big surprise. We all get a little corroded after exposure to the detritus of our lives, so why should the disposal not suffer similarly? Clearly, I wanted to replace it with an Insinkerator.
One stop, one purchase, and on the way home again.
However. I fell into conversation with the salesperson of whom I had asked directions to the desired item. (I hate big-box stores. But I digress. And repeat myself.) When he discovered we lived in Perfect, he grilled me as to my "native/alien" bonafides. I told him I had lived in Perfect for 44 years, so I felt I was qualified to be designated a Perfectonian. "Not so," he said. "If you weren't born there, didn't go to school there, you are still an alien." He further asserted that as he had been born and educated in Perfect that he, though he has not lived there in over forty years, was still a Perfectonian. He then asked how I was "accepted" and we had a lively and interesting discussion, which revealed among other things, common acquaintances. One of his classmates had been my closest associate in my professional endeavors; another had been a member of the staff I supervised. Further conversation revealed that he had earned an MBA in the pursuit of his goals. I said it was not every day I encountered an MBA on the sales floor at Lowes.
"Oh," he assured me, "you would be surprised. I have a good friend who has a PhD and is similarly employed. The retail world is rife with over-educated sales personnel."
It was an interesting afternoon. I found entertainment in a place I would least expect to find it.