I am a big DIY’er.  If you follow me on Twitter you know that I have been working on my 1920′s home for the past 297 years.  We currently have an addition being finalized and I have been working in my detached garage trying to set up an off-grid workshop.  Every waking hour is spent trying to either design the additional 1 1/2 bathrooms we have being installed, designing my garage workspace or developing a plan of action for next year’s vegetable garden.

Yesterday I went to frame up a door when I noticed I ran out of screws.  On the way home from dinner I asked my wife if it was okay to drop by Home Depot since it was on our way home.  I told her that she and the baby could stay in the car while I ran in and bought some screws.  Carmen objected to staying in the car so I took her in with me.  She’s used to going into hardware stores with me.  It feels like a sacred place designated for fathers and daughters.  We talk a lot as we walk through the aisles trying to locate the thing I need.  She tells me she wants to be a pediatrician when she grows up and that I will build her doctor’s office for her practice… Oh, and we’ll paint it pink, because pink is her favorite color.

I found the screws I was looking for.  And as I stood there and debated over getting exterior or interior wood screws (the exterior is only covered by thin sheet metal), Carmen was standing right in front of me, singing a song and touching every package of screws within her sights.  She was only touching them, because we are very strict with her about taking things off the shelves or moving things around.

Well, just as I have made my decision on the size and type of screws I was going to get for my project, the crabby, old man in the orange apron comes over and says, “Can you please make sure she doesn’t mix up the things on the shelf?”  I thought nothing of it and said, “Sure. Will do.”  I looked down and asked Carmen if she moved anything around.  I knew she didn’t.  She was standing directly in front of me.  She said she didn’t.  She looked up at me and then I saw the face.

Her lips started to curl downwards and quiver.  Her eyes started to swell and the overflow began to stream down her face.  That’s when I became angry.  I didn’t become angry at her.  I became angry at the Home Depot employee.  He questioned my parenting skills and decided to take it upon himself to correct me or my daughter or both of us for something that wasn’t actively occurring at the time.  He made my daughter cry and I was about to go into Hulk Smash mode.  Instead of saying anything nasty to the orange-aproned gentleman or request to speak to a manager, I placed the screws back on the shelf, took her into my arms and left.

Carmen already had a bad day and was extremely sensitive that evening.  When I asked her why she was crying, she said it was because the man “yelled” at her.  The man didn’t yell at her.  The man didn’t even address her.  He shouldn’t have and, correctly so, did not.  He was stern in his speech to me, which was rather off-putting.  I thought nothing of the exchange as it happened, but once she started to well up with tears, my mind starting racing.  I became angry and angrier with every thought being processed as I assessed the situation trying to find fault within myself or my parenting skills for the predicament I was facing.  That crab of a man caused all of that.  All those  thoughts and emotions spurred by one Home Depot employee.

I voted with my wallet that day.  I took my money elsewhere.  It is a shame, too, because I am a fan of the Home Depot’s progressive stances.  I ended up going to Lowes, which was not my first choice. Although extremely close to home, Lowes still has left a sour taste in my mouth, and Home Depot has lower prices for screws.

Will I go back to Home Depot?  Absolutely.  I am sure there are plenty of HD employees there who are lovely people.  This gentleman just happened not to be one of them.  Will I go back to that particular location?  Probably not.  At least not for a while.  I did send a tweet to @HomeDepot alerting them of my terrible experience.  I have not received a response from them as of the time of this writing.

Once we got home, Carmen found comfort in fresh fruit and Nick Jr.