How to get a $10 gift card for True Value

I love True Value because it’s a trove of random home repair shit, and every time you walk through the store you’ll notice some neat thing you never knew existed before. This trip was straight forward in nature: I was there to pick up water filters and a striker plate to fix my office door from springing open independently.

Shockingly, I found the striker on my own, picked up a wood chisel — because leaving without an impulse buy is impossible — and grabbed my filters on the way to the register. They always have hot cashiers, and they’re always flocked by the old sales guys hitting on them, and today was no exception.

I was the only customer on the front end as I stepped up to the counter. I put my items down, and started to reach for my wallet. The normal apathetic pleasantries were being exchanged as I hear the dude clear his throat, and project resoundingly, “Excuse me? We were having a conversation.”

I’m a sarcasm aficionado, and I could read the animosity in his tone. There were no mixed signals. I spun around with an unabashed smirk and retorted, “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep her from her job of getting hit on by creepy old men.”

To say she “loled” would be an injustice to her visceral guffaw, which concluded with an exasperated, “Right?” Feeling accomplished, I turned back to the EBT machine to continue the transaction.

The salesman clearly took the remark as a personal affront. “Are we going to have a problem?”

I’ve never been in the store without seeing an old guy standing by a young cashier, but their contempt for being interrupted has never that ubiquitous. Feeling especially feisty, I grumbled, “Now we are,” and requested the presence of the manager on duty from our friendly cashier.

He came up, I told him the story, he apologized and gave me a $10 gift card for my next visit. As I walked away, I could hear him summoning the aggrieved salesman “to the back.” I just wanted to give the guy a little heat, but the gift card was unexpected appreciated.

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I am Keith J. Frank, an overweight, acerbic, narcissistic, and sometimes lovable asshole that was born in June of 1983.

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