One of my co-workers was a really cool lady named Josette, who having sons of her own enjoyed helping me in my pursuits of the opposite sex. For example, across the street from the hardware store was the bank drive-up. The rest of the bank was on a different block, but the drive-up was directly across the street and working in that drive-up there was a girl I was interested in (For brevity's sake I will call her "Bank Teller Girl"). Now, I had only seen her through the bullet proof glass of the bank window, but she was always friendly to me as we spoke through the drive-up intercom and never once told me I had to be in a car to use her lane. So you can see why it seemed like true love. Each day, Josette would make up reasons for me to go to the bank. "We are low on nickels" she would say and send me across the street. An hour later, she would tell me that she hadn't realized that we were also low on tens. I would smile and play along, later apologizing to the "bank teller girl" that Josette had messed up again. She would draw a smiley face on my receipt and send over a bunch of suckers along with the change. I would then report back to Josette on how it had gone. Eventually with her encouragement, I got up the nerve to ask "bank teller girl" out on a date. I sent a note through the tube requesting that she go out with me. She said 'yes'. We did go out, but we found that actually being able to talk to each other face to face didn't seem as enjoyable as our drive-up antics and so nothing really came of it.
After that, I returned my attention back to clogged p-traps, and convincing people that an extension cord with prongs on both ends was not a good idea.
Until one day, as I was straightening the painter's putty, Josette hurried over to me and in a hushed voice said, "There is a girl on aisle seven that I think you may want to help." I could tell by her tone of voice what she meant. She meant that the stars had aligned and there was actually a young attractive girl in the store—a damsel in distress—who needed a man like myself to come and rescue her. As, I walked toward aisle seven I tried to envision this beauty and the over-appreciative reaction she would have to my helping her.
As I turned the corner onto aisle seven, I was surprised to find exactly what I was expecting—an attractive girl with dark hark looking at the various bins before her. I stopped momentarily in my tracks. Somehow seeing her for real caused me to think that maybe I had left all of my courage on aisle six. I suddenly became very concerned with how dorky I looked in my ridiculous vest with clanking buttons pinned to it. I looked down at my dirty hands and wondered if my face was smeared with dirt as well. I considered retreating out of the aisle and making a quick visit to the mirror department, but just then she looked up at me. Her expectant eyes paralyzed me and my mind went blank. At this point, I was supposed to say "How may I help you?" or "Is there something I can help you find?" But none of those oft repeated phrases were coming to me. I approached her and looked at the bins she had been searching for some possible guidance—Pan Head Stainless Steel Screws. I opened my mouth and what came out horrified me,
"So, you looking for a screw?"
She looked at me for a moment. I thought I was going to die. She probably noticed the shades of red I was now turning. Then she burst out laughing.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I am."
