Given that I am a respected citizen of the Town of Berthoud Colorado, I really do like to shop locally.
That includes buying my construction related products from the Berthoud ACE Hardware Store.
Now, because I hate to read directions, I have a tendency of “eyeballing” things like screw and bolt sizes, I could never spend the time researching and telling you sizes in millimeters or inches when to do so would make my life much easier. But I am a man, and worse, a stubborn Celt. That kind of practicality is outside my wheelhouse.
For example – on a recent project I was desperately trying to complete yesterday – I continued to return to ACE to get an increasingly thicker and longer size bolt. I am so stubborn in the way I do things, I won’t even return the wrong size bolts I purchased. I just come back to the ACE store with one of the latest wrong sized bolts and have them figure out and give me the next possible size, based on my ridiculous estimates.
Those wrong sized bolts will join many other wrong sized things in my workshop that will ultimately turn out to be the right size for something else. I learned that from Spaghetti, who had whole draws of mismatched screws and bolts that he would spend hours sifting through to find just the perfect item to fix something back in the McCaffrey Compound in Da Bronx. Nothing goes to waste except my bank account.
I began this project on Saturday – between moving runs to Luke and Georgie’s new home – first working with one extremely patient and helpful ACE employee of approximately my vintage who originates from New Jersey, with whom I had some fun trading accent stories, and then moved on to a younger twentyish young man named Garret, NJ having given up on his East Coast brethren. Garret stayed with me through my next five trips into the store.
To give you some painful context, my Toyota (yes, from The Claire Saga) actually burned though most of a tank of gas driving back and forth from Casa Claire to ACE over the past two days. In fairness, there was two moving runs both days to L&G’s house mixed in the mileage.
But the good news is that I got to listen to ALICE FM, one of NoCo’s best radio stations, which helped drown out my very loud self-castigations during those many drives. People sitting at lights or driving beside me watching my solo pantomime through the closed car windows no doubt believed I was having a nervous breakdown. Dramatic ranting actually prevents nervous breakdowns.
Anyway, there was a silver lining to all of this.
On the last go around with Garret, I explained that no one would believe just how strange even the simplest things in my life can be, even the readers of my books.
Of course, most people never follow up with any of my not too subtle references to my writing. But Garret looked over the drawer of the latest increased sized bolts he was moving onto and asked. “What books?”
I said, “The Claire Saga. It’s set around here.”
To which he excitedly responded, “No way. I’m reading The Wise Ass.“
Well, that opening launched us into an animated conversation about the books, Claire, the locale for stories, and how I came to arrive in this lovely town, all the while Garret splitting his focus on literature and selecting just the right bolt size this final go around.
It was my first experience of randomly meeting someone who actually read any of my work without me first browbeating or shaming them into purchasing it. More importantly, Garret actually seemed excited to meet the NoCo version of a real author.
After walking me to the front of the store with the perfect sized bolts and washers, Garret was then tasked by a manager with attending to a number of people waiting to get their propane tanks filled while a lovely young lady up front who is expecting a girl in November rang up my purchase.
But given all of the effort Garret put into providing first class service, I told him that if this latest selected bolt I needed to complete my project fit, I would name my new TV after him.
I also went out to the the back of the store where a very patient line of people were waiting to have their propane tanks filled so they could go home and barbeque and stopped the production long enough to walk past the waiting line of citizens so I could snap a selfie with Garret for today’s blog.
As I walked away from the inquisitive crowd I heard one of them ask Garret, “Who was that?”
Garret proudly and loudly responded, “Tom McCaffrey. He’s a famous author.”
It had the same feel to it as this scene from A Christmas Story:
Fragiley!
In that moment, for the first time since I published The Wise Ass, I believed what this young man told the others.
And that made my day, week, month. So thank you Garret.
My new TV now shares your name.
Well, it’s Monday again. Time to buckle down and make some money.
You fine, five readers are hopefully rested from a wonderful weekend. So, let’s get out there and hit Monday on the head as we launch into another work-week.
But first, I need to cuddle some kitties – Smokey is outside my office window meowing – so I better get moving. Then my rounds.
And no matter what we all get up to, let us make today a great one.
3 Responses
“He’s a famous author”. I love this!
Of course you are!
Nicely said Garret!!
Maybe Ace can stock your books.