So, spouse showed our young man the wood he wanted.
'Oh, that wood! Now if I'd have known it was that wood you wanted...'
Spouse by this time was nearly busting a blood vessel. However, he managed to contain himself and together they went through the feet ad inches measurements, barcode and price routine, then returning to the Order Desk to finally get the whole lot on to the computer.
Now came the exciting bit - the proposed delivery of all this wood. When would Sir like it? Ooh, Sir would like it tomorrow or the next day please. Well, actually, no. Sir couldn't possibly have it as quick as that. Well why the ****** ask me then?
After much consultation on the phone it turned out it couldn't be delivered for another week and no he couldn't pay for it at this desk - this was the 'Order Desk'. He would have to go right away over the other side of the store to the 'Pay Desk'.
I think spouse was very tempted to tell the young man where he could put his 'Order Desk,' but as he had gone through so much that morning, just to get this far, he was beaten into submission and paid up at the 'Pay Desk' without the need of a security guard to manhandle him out of a store for a change.
Moral of this shaggy dog story? Moving house is partly for the shedding of STUFF. Look what happens if you have too much of it. I am ordering the yurt even as we speak.
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