DIY – A Trip to the Auto Parts Store

auto parts store

DIY is always something that I'm enthusiastic about. . .as long as it is from the comfort of my keyboard. I love watching YouTube videos on how to fix computer errors, upgrade the the components in my toilet tank to be more water efficient, or in this case to replace my break pads.

Of course, actually taking action, or the "Do," part of DIY can often be difficult for me. Still, every so often some minor repair to my very dated car will come up and it is obvious that doing the repair myself is much more cost effective and actually less of a hassle than getting and paying someone else to do it. When that occurs it is time to go to the auto parts store.

Ah, the auto parts store. I'm not sure if it is just a product of my Y chromosome, ingrained into my DNA, but there is something special about going to the auto part store. Maybe it's the smell of rubber, the allure of the stock shelf behind the counter, or the grimy cumbersome plastic keyboard cover at the checkout counter that pacifies my often troubled brain.

While there are many things to ponder about why a business establishment has such a strong hold over me, the most significant thing I notice is how when I'm here it's almost as if time stands still. And I'm not talking about some archaic folksy feel because that doesn't exist, at least in the places I frequent. No, I'm talking about how you walk into the store knowing what you need, you attempt to find the line for the register and can't find it. Instead there are three or four empty terminals with no employees in sight, no one manning their stations. Why? Because those computers/registers aren't their stations. No, their job is answering the phone in the back, tracking down a part on those inventory shelves, or helping a customer install their recently purchased battery.

So, I get to the queue and sometimes there is someone there and sometimes not. I'm unsure of which register to stand in the vicinity of because there's no telling who is assigned to what register or when that person or any person for that matter will be back. So, I just stand and well, wait. But it's not that impatient sort of wait that our society has become so self-important with, no, it's just waiting. I might observe an employee assisting another customer outside, then come in, quickly answer the phone that's been ringing for the last few minutes and then walk back outside and I'm not unnerved. I'm not irritated. Why? Because I know when my time comes I'll get the same attention.

And I just wait, twiddle my thumbs, hum a tune, tap my foot and wait. I guess it's just refreshing to know in our hustle and bustle society that there are still some places where quality over speed are valued and the fact that it seems (at least from my observations) that everyone acknowledges this at the auto part store makes it a special place indeed.

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