Butt Heads

This morning, Jimmy asked me to go pick up a part for his fork lift. Or maybe it was for his saw. Or his big fancy drill. Or, well, some other mechanical thing that needed a part. Before I left, I heard him call the place and ask them to have the whatchamacallet for the doohickey ready. So I put O in the car, picked up B from preschool, and drove 20 miles into a neighborhood I would not typically frequent so that I could pick up the thingamajig.

I knew where I was going because the kids and I went there once before to pick up a thingamabob. That time, even though Jimmy had called ahead, we waited twenty minutes for someone to figure out what we needed, another ten for them to get it, and another fifteen for them to process the payment. I was hoping this time would be a  little faster.

I knew that Jimmy had talked to Frank, so we walked in and I asked for him. The man working sent us upstairs and told me to ask for Bob. Then I heard him call Bob and say "You'll need to help this lady coming upstairs". And yet, for some reason, when we got upstairs, Bob looked surprised to see me, and had no idea why I was there. Frank was nowhere to be seen.

Two other people were at their desks and just stared at us. Bob said he'd need to look in a book to figure  out which dohickeymajobber we needed. Then he spent five minutes trying to figure out which book it was. As B and O stared out the window, I heard Frank's name a few times, in a tone that clearly said "Where the hell is that bastard Frank?". Eventually, someone said Frank was at lunch.

I think Frank was actually out to lunch.

After a few more minutes, Bob found the book. B and O were getting restless and trying to wander around the room. Then they got tired of being quiet. Bob was still looking in the book. Then he put the book down and started looking at something on his computer. B and O were getting louder. I really wanted to tell Bob that our time here was running out. I think that I need to start wearing a t-shirt that says "Fast Service Means Less Time for My Kids to Trash Your Office", but instead I focus on telling B and O that people are working and they need to be quiet.

They ignore me.

An older guy walks in and puts a box on Bob's desk. I recognize him from last time. It's Frank. I'd know him anywhere. Bob tells him who I am. I want to ask him if he had a nice lunch, but as he walks past me without saying a word and goes to look in some other book, I realize he's still out to lunch.

I don't know what these people are doing. I think the box may be mine, but no one is saying anything. They are still looking in books. Or on the computer. B and O are trying to run around the room, and starting to scream. I tell them to be quiet. I threaten that I won't bring them next time (yeah, right..as if  there will be a next time). They're tired. It's past nap time. They're cooped up in this office that we have now been waiting in for close to twenty minutes, for some thingamabob that was called ahead for.

B and O ignore me.

Eventually, Bob asks how I'm paying for it.

Can't he see how I'm paying for it? I mean, obviously, whatever I did, I am clearly paying for it right now at this very moment.

Instead, I hand him the credit card. For some reason, it takes a full five minutes to run it. B and O are still screaming. In unison. And then laughing at how funny they are. Yeah. Hilarious. A guy sitting at his desk in the corner, who until now has not not looked up, spoken to, or acknowledged us in any way, says "Uh, excuse me, but Frank's on the phone over there".

Really? I want to tell him that Frank obviously doesn't remember any of his phone conversations anyway, since he is clearly out to lunch. But instead, I grab my credit card, grab my thingamajig, grab my children, and drag us all back to the car.

As we get in, B says loud enough for anyone passing to hear "Butt heads".

Butt heads?

Where did my four year old hear this word?

I wonder if he learned it from the other kids at preschool. I wonder if he taught it to the other kids at preschool.

I wonder if he's said it to his teachers. Yet.

I wonder why he couldn't have said it when we were still inside.