My bud Scoobie and I have discovered an unmet marketing need. When stepping into one of these big-box mega hardware stores, we've decided each layman-- unskilled in the mysterious ways of "fixed wall flanges" and "collated balluster connectors"-- should be issued a Complimentary Dad for the duration of the visit.This Dad would be ideal for consultation when an actual biological dad is not available to step in to tell you you're doing it all wrong, you need wood screws for that instead of nails, or it'll never hold, what were you thinking?
I envision it a bit like this:
Complimentary Dad: Hi, I'm Bill, welcome to Happy Hardware. I'll your Dad for today. What is it you're trying to do without properly reading the instructions first, or using the right tools for the right job?
Me: "I'm trying to fasten a wooden fire surround to a solid plaster and brick wall, but all I have is duct tape, Crazy Glue, chicken wire, and this chicken. Her name is Polly.
Polly: Bock.
Me: Is there anything else I'll need?
Complimentary Dad: "Why, when I was young, we didn't have Crazy Glue and duct tape. We had 3/16 inch blue masonry screws and a dream! Here, let me show you.
Okay, sure, you'd get a 20-minute dissertation of the joys of 3/16 inch blue masonry screws and how in the old days, they used to raise chickens a lot better lookin' than Polly there....
But then he'd also make sure you also have the right masonry bit for your drill, he'd write you down instructions of how to go about it, he'd remind you not to put the chuck key in some obscure place like you did the last time and you didn't have it when you needed it, did you?...
And, if it's a little slow in the store that day, he might even ask you when was the last time you put air in your tires? Because aren't they running a little low and you could have a blow out.
Personally, I need all the help I can get.
The irony is, Scoobie and I have been floating the Complimentary Dad idea around for about six years now.
Every time I drag her into one of those mega home refurbishment stores on some kind of overly-ambitious Fool's Errand for my house, we wander 10 miles through dark spooky forests of lumber...
Dank sewers of piping, with a giant fan we have to leap over...
Bleak mines filled with creeping creatures stroking O-rings and whispering, "My Precioussssss"...
We have to leave a trail of breadcrumbs, and use metal detectors to try to find some tiny part the size of a pin which my dad has said I needed to finish a project...
And which I couldn't identify if it came up and dovetailed my shoe to quarter sawn ply.
So the Complimentary Dad would really do the job.
A few weeks ago, I was very close to having a Complimentary Dad Experience in Home Depot.
As I stood staring at a five-mile row of shiny metal things in bubble packets draped to the wall, this wonderful old man came out of nowhere.
He asked me what I was hoping to accomplish, led me through the enchanted forest, properly gauged my level of carpentry proficiency as somewhere equivalent to the fingerpainting-and-eating-paste level of home improvement, and tucked things I needed into my hand.
I was so grateful... so relieved... I almost smooched him up and gave him a tie for an early Father's Day.
That's the power of the Complimentary Dad. So if any marketing bigwigs from one of those giant hardware warehouses is out there reading this?-- take note. It's a freebie suggestion from me to you.
And if my own dad is reading this-- yes, I do know where the chuck key to my drill is.
Thanks, Pop.
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