Don't Laugh At Me

Recently, customer service has just not been up to expected quality.  Today, I had two hours while the children were at summer camp to work on my studio.  My goal was simple: complete all loud tasks that can not be accomplished after 8 pm in a sleeping house; never mind when I am too physically tired to think straight.  I patched holes, touched up the paint, mounted the design wall, and then decided I just wanted to get this thing done so I best just do it myself.  It meaning sizing down my counter top.  The original studio was in a room that is 13 feet by 14 feet.  The new room is ten feet by ten feet.  So size must be scaled down.  At any rate, the old cabinet was custom built in the basement of our first house by Scott.  It fit the space and my needs 9 years ago.  In the new, well now old, space in this house, it never functioned quite right as it was too tall for cutting so I used a step stool.  Also, I was continually bumping into the stool desk space that was where the computer was with my sewing chair as I bopped up and down cutting, sewing, ironing, sewing, cutting, designing.  My new space will have one table at 26 inches in height for proper posture while quilting (right now I am using the old drafting table) and a counter on the cabinets which I hope to create at two inches shorter then the original to be more obtainable for ironing and cutting.  I may bring up an additional folding table for big projects, but I need to have a good corner for my easel and paints as well.
   So back to the counter top.  I slide the heavy eight foot by four foot melamine top down the stairs and out the front door to the porch.  I was stoked!  I can do this.  I can get this done.  I can remember how to saw wood from my Sculpture 102 at Colorado State University.  I had it all ready on saw horses (actually old melamine shoe shelves which are, I believe, remains from those CSU days and are still quite useful.)  I measured three times and nailed a guide board to the back strip.  I started sawing.  At about four inches into the cut, the saw was on fire.  Um, not literally.  But, there was definitely a burning smell and some heat.  Note to self:  don't forget about a little law of nature called friction.
   So I ceased my operation and decided to phone for help.  I called my near-by Home Depot.  Why wouldn't I?  The other day one guy in the lumber department offered to cut the piece for me if I brought it in.  Of course, it was way too heavy to get it in the car, and I wasn't too sure it would fit anyway...that is why I was doing the operation via Supermomma strength.  After pushing all the buttons through the prompt, a young man in the lumber department asked me how he could help me. 
   "I need to saw a melamine counter top down in size and had some questions about the saw."  Before I could continue to ask why the saw was heating up, the guy says, "Excuse me, I have to take a minute to laugh as that is too funny."  I hang up the phone, livid.
   I pace around a minute trying to remember what I had actually said to deserve such a response.  My face is hot and red.  I think there was even steam coming from my ears.  Now how in the heck am I going to get this thing cut if my question about a hot saw is so funny.  Crap!  It is time to go get the kids from camp.
    While I bustle around getting my keys and changing my sweaty shirt, I press redial and "0" for customer service.  "I need to speak with your store manager because I have a been recently insulted by one of your employees."  Speaking with what I think is the assistant manager, he agrees this is clearly inappropriate behavior and promises he will discuss this further with the head manager when he returns from lunch.  And, he practically begs me to continue shopping at the store.  Of course I will as it is five minutes from my home and next door to Super Target.  But, I repeat clearly, "I don't care how silly a question is, the customer is always to be respected.  Besides, not everyone is fully skilled in using a saw or whatever."  I hang up the phone slightly satisfied, thinking in the back of my mind that this guy is probably going to just blow off this phone complaint, and still not having my question answered.
   In the end of the day, the sheet of melamine remains on my front porch, I learned I had the wrong saw blade from another store customer service guy in hardware (mine is for pine and plywood...but he couldn't tell me what blade it is I should be using,) and my husband did put out a different saw to use.  Maybe I am a silly woman with a silly question.  Maybe I am just inpatient and bull-headed enough to attempt this on my own.  After all, my father-in-law recently questioned why the heck I was doing all these home improvement tasks by myself by saying, "Didn't you get married to have someone to do these things for you."  Well, my audible response was not what I thought in my head...well, no, actually I got married for the sex.  Besides, I grew up with a wonderfully strong mom and an awesome dad who always told me I could do it, just give it a try.  Besides, as my male friend pointed out, a guy would not have called with a "stupid" question about a saw because he would have been expected to know why it was heating up even if he never touched a saw before in his life.  Very true.  A sign of weakness and demasculinity is not permitted in a hardware store.  Fair I should stick to asking Macy's how to actually walk around in high heels that are killing my feet but look great.  And, I shall refrain from asking questions so I don't cut off my toe or burn down the house.  What is a woman doing with tools anyway?  Oh sigh.  I am just saying...I am the customer gosh darn it!  I am right.