On the way back home from a tutoring class, I stopped by a local Home Depot – the wall-mounted wireless unit of my garage door opener had become temperamental and needed replacement.
It is, of course, easy to find things in a Home Depot. A bewildering variety of things are piled into tall shelves, and huge orange ceiling banners advertising contents of aisles assail the eyes – but getting lost in there is my strong forte. I sought the first human in an orange apron I could see: “Where can I find my thingamajig?” “You should be able to find it in Electrical Hardware,” said she, scurrying along on another more important task. Not happy, I looked around for another helper and spotted an elderly couple talking with a balding, jovial gent with an apron on.
A fragment of their ongoing conversation was all that was audible on approach, from the man to the HD employee: “…my one question.” “Yep, that’s it,” he replied.
“Could I ask you one question too? Just one?” Their conversation seemed over, and my question impetuous.
“Sure, just one. Make it good!” ordered the apron-donning gentleman.
“What’s the meaning of life?” popped out, while some part within cringed at this brash query.
“Haha – that’s it, asking questions, that’s the meaning of life!” exclaimed the elderly man. Mr. Apron just smiled.
“Am just looking for this thingamajig,” offered I.
“Head over to the next aisle, get to the wall, walk a mile that-a-way, and you’ll find it on your left.”
“Did you say ‘mile,’ when you meant ‘aisle’?” His meaning escaped me.
A smile again. I walked along per his directions, musing on the quick response of the other gentleman, and found the thingamajig in the far corner of the store.