I had a quiet trip over the mountain, silence, except for the radio, up the highway and peace, all the way to the nearest big box home improvement store. I park WAY out because, as you can imagine, parking a beast like that can be a little tricky. I then grab Green and head into the store. I place him in the cart, strap him in and go directly to the cement isle. I compare prices, bag sizes and make my decision. I glance around for help since the 80lb bags are the cheapest and see no one. So I grab one of those heavy duty cart things and load it with 8 -80 lb bags. I push the regular cart with Green and pull the now 640lb* heavy duty cart and head to the check out. After I finish the transaction the cashier kindly asks if I need loading assistance. "Sure, I probably better" I chuckle. After all placing cement onto a cart is a bit different than lifting it from said cart into the back of the truck.
I get out to the loading area and the gentlemen that will be assisting me, one 40-50 something and the other late teens, ask me to go get my car and they will load from here. So I strap in the baby and drive Nessy under the awning. I hop out of the truck and the older employee asks, "Your husband lets you drive this truck?" I'm a bit shocked and respond, "Yes Sir! Yes, he does." Of coarse if I was quick on my feet I would have said, "Excuse me, this is MY truck!!!!" Alas, I am not, so I let it go. I was a little offended, however, because I'm a good driver, I work hard around the yard/wannabe farm and although we joke, we share everything, not his and hers. Ok, we do have His and Hers toothbrushes, but I digress.
So I open the tailgate and step back so they can load my purchase. The older employee stops, looks at me and asks "Did you load all this onto the cart by yourself?"
"Yes, I did. I could probably load it in the truck too," ("but that is what YOU are being paid to do" I should have said).
The teenager chuckles and says, "She's not messing around."
How bizarre, but at least the young man had a healthy respect for a strong, capable woman. I know when to step back and let my man be my man. I know how to ask for help to make him feel needed, but I also know that if and when he isn't there... I can manage. I can get the job done and I love that he knows that too and "lets me drive his truck" ;)
*I suspect that 80lb bags of cement don't ACTUALLY weigh 80lbs until mixed but after several search engine queries to get my facts straight, no one knows how much a dry bag of 80 cement actually weighs. So 640 it is for the sake of story telling.
2 comments:
I bought Rob a drill press at one of those stores a few years ago. The same thing happened--I practically pulled a muscle lifting it into the cart, but then they offered to help get it into the car. Those sexist comments would have been irritating though--and I, too, always think of great comebacks after the fact!
When I was 19-20, I worked at a Garden Center and wore ladies size 2 (the smallest size of my adult life). People would buy potting soil, mulch, etc that needed loading, and I was frequently called on to do it. Having grown up a "farm girl," it was no big deal, so the never ending stream of sexist remarks and men who would comment on my size surprised me. A great many women are capable of amazing physical feats, we just like letting the men in our lives do the work because a) sometimes they enjoy it and b) sometimes we need a break. We shouldn't be given a hard time because we can manage on our own.
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