Too Few Trips To Buy Chicken Wire

Shortly after our relocation to Conway more than seventeen years ago, I dispatched my wife on an errand to buy some chicken wire. "Chicken wire?" she expostulated. "I've never bought chicken wire in my life! Where do I get chicken wire?"

"No prob," said I. "Just go downtown to Massey Hardware and tell them how much you want. It will be simple." Massey Hardware was situated on an important corner on Oak Street. She could see it clearly in her mind's eye.

She dutifully drove to Oak Street and parked in front of Massey Hardware. Her problem, being a law-abiding citizen, was a sign that read "Trucks Only." That bothered her. She was in a Toyota station wagon, not a truck. "Better hurry," was her pressing thought. "The police may come and get me."

She rushed inside and was greeted by a handsome youth, very polite and smiling. She eagerly explained, "I parked in front of that sign out there, and I need some chicken wire." No response. "But I parked in front of that sign." She figured the best way to get results was to let him see the problem, then he would scurry around, helping her get away as quickly as possible. He smiled from on high, but spoke no words.

"That sign. I'm worried about that sign because it says 'Trucks Only.' But I need some chicken wire, and I thought that would be the best place to park." He smiled with a nodding of the handsome head.

"I need some chicken wire, but I'm worried about that sign. That sign, see? Right out there."

"Oh, that? It's just there for deliveries."

"Deliveries?" she expressed in horror, for she wasn't delivering anything. "I'm worried that I'm going to get in trouble before I get my chicken wire." Acknowledging smile, but no help.

Impatient now, she tried again. "Well, you see, my husband wants me to get some chicken wire, and I had better hurry!" Round eyes, polite. Why didn't the young man just give her the chicken wire? They stared at one another.

Then they stared some more.

Tension building, she dropped all semblance of politeness: "Well!!! Give me my chicken wire!!"

"We don't carry chicken wire."

"You don't carry chicken wire!! After all my trouble, you don't carry chicken wire!! My husband said you would!"

"No, we don't carry it, but you might try Massey Hardware."

"Massey Hardware! Where am I?"

"Earl Rogers' Auto Parts."

I was right. So was the young man. Massey Hardware did have chicken wire.

But no more. Like the passing of an old, faithful friend, Massey Hardware has departed this life. We expected them to always be there for us and probably made too few trips to buy chicken wire. Convenience took us elsewhere. I hope that didn't hurt them.

Like most everything that I have done solely for convenience' sake, there's been a delayed consequence that I wish could be changed. But it can't.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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