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Navigating the home improvement storeI am a home improvement superstore's dream customer. I'm single, female, not yet 30, and working on my first home, all of which, in salesperson-ese, evidently translates to "Gentlemen, start counting your commissions!" I must have a neon sign above my head that blinks "Easy Sale" each time I walk into one of these mega home improvement supercenters. Maybe that's how the salespeople can spot me a mile away. Surely it couldn't be the absolute terror, deer-in-the-headlights look I get when presented with the aisle, upon aisle, of options for home improvement tools and materials. It's incredible. I can maneuver through a chaotic mall on Christmas Eve. I can even make my way through a farm supply store, with minimal help. What is it then, about a home improvement mega-mart that baffles me? It's not that I don't research what I need before I go into these places. I faithfully go online to the home improvement websites and get advice from the experts. I research projects, products and prices. Then, I make a list of the items I need, the questions I still have, and a budget to follow. I put on a brave game face when I get ready to go into the lion's den. But once I hit that climate controlled atmosphere, scented with a hint of lumber and chainsaw grease, I panic. No matter how cool I try to play it, no matter how much prep work I've done, it all flies out of my brain and I'm reduced to a babbling moron. I went in to the home improvement store a few weeks back with a simple thought to look at tile for my entryway. I just wanted to see what was available. No purchases were planned. After some helpful advice from the nice salespeople, I came out with $80 worth of tile and assorted tiling paraphernalia and the goofy idea that I could actually work power tools without adult supervision. I remember the days of hardware stores that were male-dominated dens of power tools, lumber and bins full of assorted nuts and bolts. I tagged along after Dad as he went there with a select list of the individual items he needed for the project he had sitting unfinished at home. There was no chit-chat--you just went in, found your hardware, paid for it and left. Now it's all packaging and marketing and promises of easy Do-It-Yourself glory. Nobody back then was at your elbow giving you friendly advice, whispering seductive little suggestions in your ear, "Oh, don't worry, it's really very easy. There's no experience needed. It's a true DIY project for beginners." There weren't any project kits for dummies, or those "idea centers" that plant the seed of optimism in your head. "Really, just how hard can installing tile be? Just look at the happy smiling people on the idea poster there--they don't look like they had any trouble. I bet I could do it." Maybe even more suggestive than the salespeople and their marketing would be the couple I like to call the King and Queen of the Realm of the Nail Gun. You know these people--every store has them. They're the ones who can't help but tell everyone within earshot about all their projects underway. If they overhear your question to the salesclerk they butt in with 14 different answers. They look at you standing slack-jawed in front of a display of hammers and laugh--completely assured in the knowledge that they're superior to you and your pitiful attempts. Between you and me, I think the home improvement stores plant these people just to boost their sales. Afterall, when confronted with the King and the Queen, most people will buy anything just to prove they can play with the big boys. How else do I explain the $80 worth of tile and assorted tiling paraphernalia still sitting in a pile in my living room? Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com. 11/19/07 Date: 11/23/07
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