My office chair has begun sinking on occasion (no fat jokes, please) without me lowering the lever for it to do so. It's not an old chair, but it's out of warranty and to fix it would apparently require a new piston. Apparently, the cost of a new piston is about the cost of a new chair, so that option went out the window.
Google to my rescue.
This is not an uncommon problem in Alabama, where we eat well and exercise not as well. In googling around, it looks like more Alabamians have experienced this same phenomenon, and have devised clever ways to correct the malady.
They do not involve diet or exercise. So I'm in.
What they do involve is duct tape (of course, it's Alabama), PVC pipe (maybe, but not necessarily) and hose clamp(s) (two if PVC pipe is used, one if not).
So I head to Walmart.
"Excuse me," I ask the sales clerk I locate who is leaning against a counter, asleep. "Can you tell me where I can find hose clamps and duct tape?"
I was wrong. He wasn't asleep, because his expression never changed, his eyes never opened, and his mouth barely moved in explaining, "Oh, you want the 'Criminal Minds' package," he said. "We used to keep them in two different areas, household and automotive, but we learned that there are other good reasons to package them together for convenience."
I knew what was coming next.
"You know, like when we packaged the shotgun shells and beer together," he finished his thought.
Oh, geez.
"I just want to fix a chair," I explained.
"Sir, you don't need to give me your alibi," he said. "You know that in this part of the country, some people need killin'. We at Walmart support our citizens who are cleaning up the streets, and I can tell you're a solid citizen because you don't have any holes in your shirt."
I glanced down to see what I wore this morning. He was right, I picked a shirt without any holes. It may have saved me.
Now, it is important to know that we have a Krispy Kreme restaurant right next door to Walmart on Highway 280 where I shopped. I mean, right. next. door.
No judgment here, but at that point I glance over and see one of Hoover's finest walking in. It appears that there is some glaze not quite wiped off his mouth, but I digress.
"Sir, did I hear you ask for the Criminal Minds special?" he said in a commanding voice.
I protested, "I just want to fix my chair. I'm happy to go to the household section and the automotive section."
"You'll have to come with me," he said. "You may have a defense of 'needin' killin', but we won't know til we question you." He grabbed my arms, swung them around my back and slapped cuffs on me as I was ushered away, screaming at the injustice of it all.
At that moment, my wife shoved me. She says nudged, I say shoved. "Wake up," she said. "You're having a nightmare."
I ordered a new chair this morning.
