I, Colossal Dork

Thus far in my Ho(t)me(n) Depot career, it's been all about web based training. Me, sitting in front of a PC in the training room of the store. Hour after hour of how their order system works, and whirlpool baths (love them!) and such. Today was all about baths. Sinks, vanities, showers, tubs, toilets, linen cabinets, medicine cabinets.

And at this point, I'm chafing at the bit. I can't wait to get out on the floor and sell stuff.

So today, after eight hours of web based training, what did I do?

I got in my car and drove to the nearest Ho(t)me(n) Depot. (I thought if I pulled this at my own store it might get a wee bit embarrassing.)

And what did I do? I wandered through the Kitchen and Bath department.

I am going to be so useful there. No small amount of the merchandise was filthy. The reveals around the doors and drawerfronts of the cabinets are all way off. And whaddyaknow? A lesbian couple was left to their own devices to pick out stuff to renovate their bathroom! Outrageous! Ho(t)me(n) Depot maintains their competitive edge over our competitors by providing excellent, knowledgeable customer service, but I'm sorry to say that excellent customer service didn't seem to be in evidence at this other Ho(t)me(n) Depot store. All those conversations in my head, helping folks navigate the particulars of buying a new toilet (round bowl or oval? traditional two-piece or contemporary one-piece? gravity flush or pressure flush?), extolling the virtues of American Standard Lifetime Whirlpools (they don't take up much more room than a conventional soaker bathtub!), and, of course, making dreams come true (provided that people other than myself spend time coming up with cogent answers to questions like, "What would my dream bathroom look like?").

Yes, there I was, happily and excitedly strolling through the aisles of the Kitchens and Baths department of this other Ho(t)me(n) Depot, dreaming of the day (coming soon!) when I'll be donning my orange apron and joining the fray.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Oh man. I'm a dork.

During my high school years, we were, by and large, a blasé and apathetic lot, all but devoid of School Spirit, despite the best efforts of coaches and administrators. We couldn't care less about how our basketball team did or that they were only two games away from the State finals or whatever. But there were a few among us, chronological throwbacks of sorts, who would bellow down the stairwells "We are totally going to BEAT WEST!!!" while we scuttled between classes. (I went to Central Bucks High School East, and our Big Rivals were Central Bucks High School East.) Generally, these calls down the stairway intended to cheer us on to Victory were greeted by a chorus of responses of "Shut the hell up, you Dork."

Dorks, of course, were those who didn't quite understand what the rest of us knew too well: it was just school, so what's the big deal?

There were a number of oddballs in the group of kids I hung out with--in fact, we banded together because we were oddballs--but we drew the line at dorks.

No dorks.

Well, I was just swimming in Ho(t)me(n) Depot dorkiness. I was in Dork Seventh Heaven.

After all, it's just a job.

Ho(t)me(n) Depot is just another corporation, making their money with mark-ups, driving local independent hardware stores out of business when they open up one of their Big Boxes...

But at this point, I have totally drank the Kool-Aid. In fact, my belly is swollen with Kool-Aid. I love Ho(t)me(n) Depot. I want to be a great Ho(t)me(n) Depot Sales Associate. I AM GOING TO TOTALLY ROCK KITCHENS AND BATHS!!!

I am a colossal Dork.