Gauging your clerks

There were a mere three things on my shopping list: Outdoor thermometer, rain gauge, bug spray.
Seeing as how I am the most awesomely efficient shopper in the history of mankind, this would be a task almost too easy for someone of my caliber.
I needed the rain gauge and thermometer to replace my outdoor weather station, which never quite worked the way it was supposed to. And by “the way it was supposed to,” I mean “at all.”
Part of the unit was a canister that sat outside, supposedly taking weather readings. It then relayed them inside to a digital display. Of course, the display never quite worked, and would give me temperature readouts of, say, the letter B and an upside down seven.
I think it has something to do with the energy sphere over my house. I call it that, as that is the only sci-fi kind of name I can figure out for the way wireless devices tend to act (or rather, not act) at my house.
Several years ago, my wife got my inner child a gift, the most awesome Dukes of Hazzard remote control car ever. And I could never get it to work. I returned it, got a new General Lee, and had the same result.
After about four remote control cars, I sat my inner child down and told him it wasn’t meant to be. He was disappointed, but it will make him stronger and more able to handle inner bullies when he’s an inner teen.
Anywho, since the energy sphere appeared to affect my weather station, too, I was going to go low tech and get a plain old rain gauge and a plain old thermometer.
The bug spray was because I am simply the most delicious person on the planet, and mosquitoes come from miles around to taste me. They also feast on my son, yet have never bitten my daughter. I told her that is because (a) she is sour and (b) they don’t like monkey meat. She finds neither of these very funny.
So back to my shoptasticness. I loaded up the kids and headed to the store, pretty sure I would be so efficient that I may actually go back in time. I went into the first store and quickly found the bug spray and a thermometer. I figured the rain gauges would be nearby, but saw nothing.
After a few minutes, I opted to ask a clerk for help.
“Rain gauges are over by the thermometers,” I was told, the clerk motioning to where I had just come from.
I went back, scoured the shelves, and found nothing. I returned to the clerk and told her I could not find the rain gauges.
“Oh, we’re out of them. But that’s where they would be.” I stared at her for a second, I guess waiting for her “Gotcha!” moment. No. No Gotcha! moment.
She had honestly just told me where a product I was shopping for would be if they had it, even though they didn’t, as if routine product placement tests were being done by shoppers.
Resisting the urge to delve into this one, I put the thermometer and bug spray back and headed out to the next store.
Much like the previous store, I quickly found the bug spray and a thermometer. I spied a clerk and asked him where the rain gauges would be.
“Rain gauges are over by the thermometers,” he said. I stared at him for a second, thinking there was no possible way this could happen again.
I went back to the thermometers. Nothing. I returned to the clerk. “Oh, we’re out of them. But that’s where they would be.” Seriously. At that point, my daughter asked why people didn’t just tell us they were out of them. From the mouth of babes…
Beaten down, I headed to a third store. I vowed that I would speak to no one. I would not be led astray again.
I found the thermometers tucked away in a corner. Knowing full well that if rain gauges existed they would be here, I scanned the shelf. And there it was, tucked away in a corner, a small orange plastic gauge, all $2.49 of it begging to go home with me, a thermometer and some bug spray.
I am glad that I finally found the items I needed, but can’t believe it took me as long as it did. On the upside, if I ever need a rain gauge again, I know where they’re kept. If they have them.