Today, this woman walks up to the counter & asks for someone to help her with fencing. She gestures vaguely. Whitney & I are standing there, & I let her take point most of the time because it’s good for her to learn & I’m right there if she does need help. Whitney says, “Okay. Whatcha need?” Standard reply for any of us.

The woman gets a sharper tone. “I need help with fencing.”

Whitney hesitates. I look up. She is a replica of Peach in Lonesome Dove, bonnet, red-faced demeanor, plumpness,  & all. My mouth drops, but I recover. “Yes, ma’am, we’ll be glad to help you. But are you building a fence? Do you need pricing on barbed wire or vinyl or wooden…???”

She sighs like we are her cross to bear. “I need help BACK HERE with your fencing, I want to get some sticks out of the ground,” she enunciated each word clearly as if I were a stupid hillbilly. Not appreciated. But I had time on my hands, as it were, & could humor this…old wet hen. Normally I would call for one of the guys but decided I could handle this swiftly. (Plus they were all at lunch).

I followed her back to the wall where we have a few pieces displayed. Most of the stuff is in the warehouse, & in order to price it, I must be at a computer. Like the one we started at. I hoped against hope she would badger me for prices of various materials.

In a round about way, I learned that she lives in some gated community in Gatlinburg & was taking down a fence a previous occupant had installed. She couldn’t get the t-posts out of the ground. I suggest she saturate the ground with water around them & waller them out. She couldn’t, she’d already tried that. I suggest she borrow a tractor & buy this handy-dandy little tool you attach a chain to & pull them out with the front end loader, easy as pie. She can’t do that. I suggest she buy this fence post jack & ratchet them out three inches at a time. She doesn’t think she can do that. I tell her I will find her a goat & she can put her fence to use & not worry about it.

That suggestion was met with a severe look.

We go back to the ratcheter. This tool is $57 dollars. She asks if we rent them. No. Do I know a place that rents them? No, but you could rent a bobcat, buy this little tool & ta-da! Problem solved.

She switched tacks abruptly. “Are those like the old-timey galvanized buckets?” She points to an 8-foot section of galvanized tubs & tanks.

“Ummm…well, they’re just a galvanized tub. People use them for all sorts of stuff…weddings, mostly, anymore.” I’m not sure what she’s getting at, because they’re RIGHT THERE. She’s looking directly AT THEM.

“Yes, but are they the old-timey kind? The old ones have more metal in them.”

“Oh. No. These are lightweight. They’re serviceable, but they will eventually rust if they hold water for long periods of time or are against the ground.”

She’s still looking at me strangely. “They were manufactured this year…probably in China.”

At last she concedes they weren’t from days of yore.

Next.

No, we’re not done yet. She asks if we have any old-timey water spigots. At this point I want to ask her if when she came through the door if she passed a sign reading, “You are entering a time warp. The year is 1935.”

“Ummm…these are all we have. Simmons brand.”

“Oh? You don’t have any of the old-timey kind?”

I am officially exasperated. “No ma’am, we have carried these state-of-the-art models since at least 2001. They feature a hand pump design & are blue.”

She goes on to explain she’s making a sink & wants vintage stuff. I suggest she see the nice people at Wayne Blalock’s across the street, perhaps they could special order something to suit her. “Or, you know, antique stores or flea markets for the real treasures.” Thankfully I am spared from further conversation when a co-worker comes up to tell me there’s an old lady laying on the floor in the bathroom. I dash away, only to Irene’s laughter. She was talking about a pattern in the tile. Ha. She’s also found Satan & a gnome.

Later, when I’m relating all this to Shug over supper, he says, “You should have told her in the olden days like she’s trying to reproduce, they hired slave labor. Now we have Mexicans.”

Tomorrow is Wednesday. The next is my day off. Thank you Jesus.