There are two reasons I patronize my local hardware store instead of the big boys like Home Depot and Lowe’s. I want to support the hometown business. But I can also walk in, say “I need a light bulb,” and walk out with a light bulb.
When I walk into Home Depot for a light bulb, I leave with the light bulb. And batteries. And a hacksaw. And duct tape. And whatever else that may strike my fancy. Except power tools. I don’t do power tools. I do look at them though, just for the testosterone rush.
Home Depot sucks you in. And I’ve just discovered that Cabela’s does the same thing. I don’t hunt, I rarely fish, and camping to me is a hotel without 24-hour room service. But I needed something that I knew Cabela’s would have, so in I marched.
I marveled at all the dead animals and the things you kill them with. (No, I’m not anti-hunting.) I ogled the dozens of rods and reels, and the hundreds of lures you tie at the end of the line to haul in “the big one.”
By the time I finally wandered in to the department I was looking for, the testosterone rush had lowered my voice 4 octaves. Hair was growing out of my eyeballs. I looked around as I spit and scratched. But then, in the blink of a hairy eye, my manly moment was over.
There was too much choice. There was 100 of what I was looking for. Too many brands, too many styles, too many colors. A chat with the clerk only complicated matters. The man turned into a mouse, and scampered away. I need to regroup. I need to go back. And I will.
With my wife.