Meeting Jesus in Home Depot

I had to venture into Home Depot today to grab a bizarre little tool designed to keep my hands off the icky litter I intend to pick up in our neighborhood.

I know what you are thinking:  WHY?

Well, somewhere along the way, I've become hyper-focused on how nasty our streets have gotten in my little part of the world and I want to do something about it.  So, first stop was to find one of those little "grabber" thingies that will keep me from having to bend over constantly.  And, a pair of gloves when I have to pick up something that could have remnants of the bubonic plague all over it.

Can you tell I'll have a tub of Purell strapped to my back during this process?

A nice woman at the door directed me as I entered the store.  Now, those folks are usually dead on.  They say things like "When you pass the red-plastic-coated hooks on the bottom shelf on the right, look up two shelves and you'll find what you are looking for.  There are three dozen choices, so if you need more help, let one of us know.  OK?"  And then they flash a million dollar smile and scoot away to help the next clueless person.

Not my helper.  She sent me to the wrong aisle about a mile away, so it took me a bit to get my bearings and head in the right direction to find my grabber/gloves.  When I had thoroughly investigated about six aisles and rushed through three more, I finally found my intended target.

By this point, I could have swung one aisle over and come full circle to thank the hostess for her complete lack of help and direction.*  But, I was staring at a grabber thingy, so I wrote it off as exercise.

Back on aisle 35...

There was another employee there just waiting to help.  His voice reminded me so much of Barry White that I started to believe in reincarnation.  I almost had to sit down on the ground when he talked.  Vapors, I tell you.  Vapors.

Instead, I listened intently, searching my purse for a lighter, which I intended to thrust into the air when Ashton Kutcher came out, confirmed that reincarnation DOES indeed exist, told me I'd been PUNK'D, and this dude used those chops to sing a little song to me on aisle 35.  This is when I cursed the fact that my foray into smoking lasted less than a semester and I don't carry a lighter or matches.

KIDDING.  Though, wouldn't that have been ultra-cool?

Mr. White noticed I already had the grabber thingy and he wondered what else I needed to go along with it.  I stopped myself from saying "You, singing" and asked for an over-the-shoulder bag to put my "finds" in, like the kind you see convicts wearing alongside the road as they pick up trash.  But, I didn't mention the convicts.

He pulled a shiny object off the shelf, did some James Bond move to the thing, and took it from a square the size of a donut box (dozen, in case you are wondering) to a full-fledged cart, designed to carry large pallets of water or sodas.  Very cool.  But, completely impractical for my use.

And, that's when I said "I should probably design something and become a millionaire!"  He laughed at me (but Barry laughs right GOOD!) and said "Well, if you earn that million and become part of the 1%, please keep the 99% in mind."

You can imagine how that went over with me if you've been reading much of this blog lately.

It did give me pause, as I left the store, to think:  What would I do if I was the source of something that created great wealth for my family?

I'd like to think I'd be ultra-generous.
I'd like to think I'd bless others.
I'd like to think I'd look for ways to give others a leg up when they needed it.

But, how would I feel knowing the same group that I was attempting to help with the wealth I created and worked so hard for, was hating me behind my back?
Was speaking ill of me for working hard?
Was glumping me into a group with the Leona Helmsleys of the world?

I would hate that.
I truly would.
But, I'd have something more in common with Jesus.

He tried to show people how to help themselves.
He tried to show kindness.
He blessed others.

But, in the end, he was reviled.  Hated.  Executed.

Now, I'm no Jesus.  But, I can see how becoming the target, even if you do it intentionally, can really, really hurt.

And, No.  I don't think I will become the Queen of Over-The-Shoulder-Litter-Bags any time soon.  I think it would be easier to call the jail and make a little inquiry.

But, it's funny, in an odd way, how my Barry-White-Impersonating-Home-Depot-Employed acquaintance made me think all that.


*"Hey!  Home Depot trainers?  Time to remind your employees that memorizing the store's schematic is part of their job!"