Maybe I've still got it

I try to favor local shops over the big box stores. There is a hardware store and a lumber yard in a small town that is half the distance I need to travel to shop at the big box stores in Bellingham. But there are certain purchases that warrant the trip to the big box stores. When I am doing projects for the farm, I have a responsibility to purchase materials at the best prices. And there are items that are a lot more expensive at the local stores than at the big box stores. In addition there are items that simply are not stocked by the smaller local stores. For the most part, I can compare prices and even check inventory online these days, so I can make informed choices.

Yesterday was one of those days when I decided it was worth the extra driving to get the items I needed. I had a varied load when I reached the checkout. There were several pieces of hardware including joist hangers and screws. I had three bags of cement mix and a 16’ pressure treated board. I’ve learned where the store keeps various types of carts that make it convenient to pick up the needed items and roll them to the checkout. After I paid for my purchases, I rolled the cart out to the back of my truck. The long board went up on my ladder rack, which has rollers that make loading long objects easy. I’m short and the truck is tall, so a long board is a bit easier to load than a short one. Leverage works. The various pieces of hardware were tossed in the back seat. Washington has a mandatory fee to discourage the use of disposable bags, and I had neglected to bring a reusable bag into the store. Still, the rule gets me to avoid using disposable bags. I’m usually too cheap to pay the extra 8 cents. So I had a handful of items that ended up on the floor in the back seat of the pickup. That left three 80 pound bags of cement to hoist up into the back of the truck.

Just as I was getting ready to lift the first bag, a store employee showed up and offered to help. It is something that I’ve noticed on a couple of visits to that store. The employees who are assigned to the parking lot really deliver customer service. They watch those loading cars and trucks and are quick to offer help. However, I declined the help yesterday. I know from previous experience that the store rules prohibit employees from picking up more than 50 pounds. To move an 80 pound bag requires two employees, or an employee and a customer. But a bag of concrete mix is relatively small. It is simply easier to pick it up and put it in the back of the truck by yourself than it is to figure out how to get a grip on one end of the bag without tearing the paper. I loaded the concrete bags, grateful that I wasn’t loading 25 or 30 bags, something that I have done.

That drew a whistle and a comment from the employee who was genuinely trying to help. As I drove out of the parking lot, I got to thinking about how I must have looked to that young employee. I have white hair and am enough years past 65 that people don’t have to ask me whether or not I qualify for the senior citizen’s discount any more. I’m overweight, a problem with which I have struggled for decades. I am short and my pickup is fairly tall. I had to lift each bag to chest height and then reach over a two-foot tailgate to get it into the box of the truck. To that young and healthy employee of the store, I’m pretty sure I looked like someone who wouldn’t be able to sling an 80 pound bag.

You don’t see many 100 pound bags of feed these days, but they were common when I was a teenager working at my parents’ store. I loaded a lot of customers’ trucks by lifting five 100 pound bags onto a hand truck, rolling the truck to a loading door and lifting the bags into the back of the customer’s truck. I had a minor back injury some years ago, so I know how to lift with my legs and how to use momentum and leverage to multiply my strength. But I am also a paddler and rower. My gut may be too big, but my arms and shoulders are strong.

I don’t mean to brag, but that encounter with the helpful employee made my day. I drove back to the farm and unloaded my purchases. I had hand dug three holes earlier in the day into which I had inserted 3’ concrete forms. I had one more hole to dig and I dug it with ease and a bit of relish.

For all of my life, I have had friends who are older than me who are great workers. When I was in my 40s I built fence next to a man in his 70s whose pace I couldn’t match. In Rapid City, I frequently ran my chainsaw next to a man who is 15 years older than I who worked tirelessly and efficiently. There have been many others. I often say I want to be like one of them when I grow up. Maybe I am, at least a little bit. I’ve learned a bit about working efficiently. I know my own limits pretty well. If I had needed to load a bunch of concrete bags, I would have paused to catch my breath after each 5 or so. Yesterday, I had a water bottle in the truck from which I drank to keep myself hydrated. I know when to don a hat to avoid sunburn and gloves to protect my hands.

With luck I have a few more years of seeming like an old man to people in their teens and twenties while still being able to accomplish real work. It is likely that the employee was capable of lifting the 80 pound bags, but had never been given the opportunity. I don’t mind having a bit of magic even if it is mostly sleight of hand.

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