El Burro Volador

When last we left our intrepid protagonist, me, I was returning from an unsuccessful attempt to purchase a giant light-bulb for my inscrutable masters.  I decided that my first mistake had been turning to them for guidance in the first place, seeing as how they’re inscrutable and all.  How can someone understand your problems if they don’t know what it’s like to be scruted?  I mean, I’m constantly being scruted; it’s one of the cornerstones of my experience.  If you can’t relate to that, then how can you help me?

Anyway, I decided to trust to my own abilities in future, so I did what I probably should have done in the first place and hit the web, looking up the manufacturer’s website and seeing if they had any preferred distributors in the area.  They did.  Right at the top of the list was Home Depot.  “Well,” I thought, “this couldn’t get much easier.”  I was wrong, though, it could have been much, much easier than it turned out to be.

I called the nearest of Fort Collins’ two Home Depot stores, and that’s when the pain began.  First I had to navigate their labyrinthine automated phone system, replete with menus.

“Thank you for calling Home Despot” said a mildly pleasant voice.

“Despot?” I asked the phone.

“If you are calling to find out store hours, press one,” intoned the voice.  Nope, not me, lady.

“If you know the extension of the person you’d like to call, press two.”  I waited.  After a brief pause, the voice continued.

“If you are calling in regards to a home delivery or installation, press three.”  The pause was longer this time, I was getting a bit impatient.

If you are calling about tool rental, press three.”

“Wait,” I said, “I thought home delivery was three.”  The pause was interminable, I thought I heard whispering somewhere on the other end of the line.

“To uh, talk to receiving, press five,” said the voice.

“I just want to talk to someone in the damn lighting department,” I growled.

“To talk to someone in one of our damn departments, press seven twice” said the voice almost immediately.  I was fairly certain I heard muffled giggles afterward.

Nonetheless, I punched seven two times and endured another brief pause before being presented with another menu.

“For Appliances, press one“.

“For the Bath Department, press two“

“For the Turkish Bath Department, press two slowly and hold it for awhile”

I was starting to clench my jaw a little bit, aware that I had been on the phone for about ten minutes and found out nothing at all so far.

“For Building Materials, press three,” continued the voice.

“Para el Décor, oprima numero quatro.”

“Was that Spanish?” I asked the phone.

“For Doors and Windows, call Ace Hardware.”

“Excuse me?” I was, I admit, becoming increasingly bewildered.

“For Electronics, press five,” offered the voice serenely.  “Hmm,” I thought, maybe giant light-bulbs are in the electronics department.  I wanted badly to press five and find out, but decided to wait and see if there was a “lighting department” coming up.

“For infant disposal, press six.”

“Wait, what?!” I hollered into the phone.  A head peeped around the door of my office.  It was the boss who had given me the assignment in the first place.

“Everything goin’ okay?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” I said quickly, “I’ve found a local distributor and we’re haggling over price.”

“Give ‘em hell” he said, vanishing back around my doorframe.

Meanwhile I’d missed one whole menu option.  “Please don’t be lighting,” I thought.

“For lighting,” said the voice.

“Oh thank Buddha” I said quietly.

“Enter the first six digits of the value commonly represented by the Greek character pi.”

I was past astonishment at this point, but I did have to scramble to punch in 314159.  There was a pause, then “Please hold to talk to someone in our lightning department.”

“No, not lightning – lighting! Lighting!” I shrieked.

“Give ‘em hell” came a voice from down the hall.

“Er, lighting department” replied the voice, followed by a long pause.  Then there was a series of tones, and another recorded voice came on the line to say “I’m sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed.  Please hang up and try again.”

I flung the receiver across the room and yanked the cord out of the wall, then raced out the door and down the hall.  I burst outside, running into the empty field behind our offices.  I turned my face up to the sky and howled out a cry of rage in the form of all the vilest profanities I could muster.  Several geese fell from the sky dead, and when I came to myself I noticed that a circle of grass around my feet was withered and blackened as though it had been scorched by a terrible flame.