The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Friday, September 29, 2000

Adventures in Shopping

My friend Tom is getting married. Last month I received an invitation to the wedding shower (I think that's what it is). It's a BBQ being held at what looks like a friend's house (possibly a friend of his fiancé Keller (yes, that is her real name)). Of course, being the procrastinator that I am, it wasn't until today that I actually RSVPed, seeing how the party is tomarrow.

The invitation had them registered with Home Depot Dillards and Macys. Being a guy, I figured a trip to Home Depot would be my best best.

The fact that there's a Home Depot just down the street from me had nothing to do with my decision. I swear.

I enter the store and find the customer service desk. I'm not terribly familiar with this whole registry thing, having only done it once before.

“My friend is getting married and he's registered here,” I said.

“What's his name?” asked the service rep. I gave Tom's name and the rep typed it into the computer.

“Is he registered at this store,” asked the other rep behind the counter.

“It doesn't matter,” answered the first rep before I could answer. “This is a nation wide registry.”

“Really?” answered the second rep.

“Yes,” said the first rep.

“Good thing,” I said. “He lives up in West Palm Beach.” The other two nodded in agreement. It was a good thing the Home Depot registry was nation wide—otherwise I would have had to drive about an hour north.

The first rep was still working at the computer. “It looks like the computer isn't working,” she said, poking the keyboard like it was dead. “You may have to go to another store.”

Nice. “Okay, I'll try,” I said. I then left the store.

I figured it would be quicker to head over to Dillards than to drive all the way to another Home Depot. It wasn't until I actually arrived at the Dillards in Coral Springs that it might have been farther to drive there than to drive to the Home Depot in Pompano (don't worry if you don't know where any of this is—this is South Florida where there are a bazillion towns crowded together). But I entered Dillards, and located the Customer Service Department on the store map.

“Hi, my friend Tom is registered here for—”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” said the service rep before I could finish. “The computer system is down right now, and even if it wasn't, we don't have a house wares department. The store at the Galleria Mall is the one you want.” The store at the Galleria Mall is another fourty-five minutes to the south and I'm already twenty minutes from home. “But you can also view and print out the registry at our website,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. “I'll do that.” And I left that store.

At this point, I'm beginning to think I should have gone shopping ealier than waiting until the last minute (well, not the absolute last minute—I mean, I still had over 24 hours until the party). So I drive back across town to another Home Depot. My initial idea was Home Depot, and by God I'll get something from Home Depot.

Fortunately, this store had a working computer system and I was able to get the registry list and buy the gifts for Tom and Keller.

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