I found myself on an industrial estate yesterday. I don't work there and no, I wasn't looking for illicit drug dealers, prostitutes or a shady cash deal on a new washing machine from a bloke in a van with no questions asked and no VAT.
I was there to deal with another kind of man who strikes fear into my heart every time my wife says we could do with a new bathroom, kitchen, carpet or self assembly wooden contraption for the bedroom or hallway. The DIY showroom man. This is a man who expects me, as another man, to know what I'm talking about. I don't. Sexist stereotyping... That what I call it.
I was there to buy tiles for the bathroom and was confronted by a myriad of square ones, oblong ones, shiny ones and ones that glow in the dark. Rows and rows of the bloody things. The man asked, 'What do we have already?' 'Square ones.' I replied... 'On the wall. I don't know how they got there and they won't come off.'
'What size wall in square metres are we talking about?' He said... 'Bath length and width, all the way to the ceiling.' I said. The funny thing was, he knew exactly the size I was talking about.
'What sort of tile are you interested in?' He asked... 'Waterproof ones I guess.' I said, knowingly. 'Any particular design?' He sighed. 'No flowers, and don't make my bathroom look like a gents underground urinal, other than that we are good to go.'
At this point, my wife chipped in with the correct dimensions, design choice with border tiles, tile size and quantity. She then ordered something called tile adhesive and grout.
I meanwhile, pretended to be interested in a ladder that was for sale nearby while my wife and the DIY man talked flexible tile adhesive and whether we had a stud wall or solid brick and would she be needing a sponge. What the hell does she need a sponge for..? 'Oh, I see, and what exactly is a stud wall..?' I asked.
'Ignore him.' Replied my ever tolerating wife. The man nodded and gave me a look that said he deals with incapable idiots like me on an hourly basis. I fiddled with the ladder as if I was a ladder expert and that he had got me all wrong. It turned out to be a two stage extendable ladder with rubber footings for extra safety, perfect for window cleaning and gutter maintenance. I recoiled. If I had one, my wife would make me climb it and do the guttering, so I decided that we didn't need one.
My eye wandered around the showroom. Power tools, lighting, electrical goods and hardware. 'Do we need any Pozzidrive screws..?' I asked... 'No.' Came the reply. 'Wall flange support rods?' Again, no.
I found the coffee machine which I made good use of as my wife managed to get a ten percent discount on the deal for buying everything in one go. She even got DIY man to load everything onto a big trolley with wheels. I told him where my van was.
Job done. That was easier than I thought. Oh and yes, we are getting a man in to do the tiling. I will let you know how it goes, I think he's going to need my help when he discovers that my wife said we didn't need those wall flange support rods. I won't say I told her so...
Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.
No comments:
Post a Comment