My Descent Into Hell

So my wife is sick. I feel terrible for her. She works hard, does a great job with the house and the kids and all the stuff that I would make a mess of. And now she feels awful. She’s also big into crafts. She makes all kinds of stuff. That’ll become important in a minute.

She got some viral bug from the kids.

Being the loving caring husband that I am, I ask her “What can I do for you? Hot tea? Soup?”

“No, but there is something I need. I don’t feel like going to get it though. Would you?”

“Sure baby, where and what?”

Thus begins my Descent.

Where did she ask me to go?


Dear. Sweet. Lord. Why????

“Well I need jewelry wire for the necklaces I’m making.”


She sells these things (I’m STUNNED by how much people pay for this stuff), so ok, that’s not a big deal.

“I also want you to get that bow maker so it’s easier for me to make those bows.”


Oh joy.

So I drive up the street to JoAnns. It’s a madhouse. There are people (Women. I’m likely the only guy in the store.) everywhere. In every aisle. In every conceivable area that you could stand or walk.

I could not be more out of place. There are aisles and aisles of fabric and yarn and needles and ribbons and…..I think I’m breaking out in hives again.

Anyway, I find the jewelry wire fairly easily. Grab what I need. “Hey, maybe this won’t be so bad.”

Ha. Ha. Ha.

The bow maker. Folks, it’s basically a 1×4 piece of wood with half a dozen holes in it. It comes with dowels that you place in corresponding holes to get the size bow you want. I could build one for $5. In an hour. If you include the time it takes to go to Home Depot. But the wife wants the one from the store.

Fine. How hard could it be?

Up and down the aisles I go, dodging high school girls discussing which of 5,000 types of glitter they should get and 300lb women discussing how much material they’ll need for that XXL blanket.

I can’t find the stupid thing. I can’t find the “hair bow” section. I can’t even tell the damn difference between ribbon for hair bows and ribbon for present bows.

I text my wife. No help there. “It’s called a Bow Maker. It’ll be with the hair bows and ribbons.”

I break down and ask someone. First person to walk past me wearing JoAnns stuff is a girl that looks like she’s 18. I describe what I’m looking for. I get this look:


Awesome. Now she’s on the walkie talkie describing what I’m looking for. “I think Worker #2 can help.” We go wandering the store looking for this person. Finally find her. Describe what I’m looking for. Wanna hazard a guess at the look I got?

Now I’m faced with returning home without the “bow maker.”

Oh. The wife has sent a text with a pic of what she wants. I show it to Worker #2. “Hmm…..lemme go ask my manager.”

Working my way up the chain of command. Excellent.

Worker #2 comes hustling out of the back. “Right this way sir.”

Glory glory hallelujah. We have success.

She walks me down some aisle that has nothing to do with hair bows, reaches to the back of the bottom shelf and hands me this box and says, “Here you go sir, last one.”


What the crap is this? A board. A half dozen holes. Two dowels. It wasn’t a complicated description. Worker #2 is all proud of herself too.


I text the wife. “This is all they have.” Wife, “No. Nevermind.”

I spent an hour in a place that would make Dante weep. What did I get out of that? $12 worth of jewelry wire and an aneurysm.

If you’ll pardon me, I’m sure there’s a bottle of vodka around here somewhere.

16 thoughts on “My Descent Into Hell

  1. Poor dude. At least it was only a couple things. And nothing like macrame or decoupage.

    Rest up. At least you missed the cosplayers since Tampa has Comic Con. JoAnn is one of the ‘go to’ places for cosplayers.

  2. Went to a bed bath and beynd once, asked about an espresso tamp. Shouldn’t be that hard, plus everyone has been to a Starbucks. Kid can’t find it, he goes and gets the store manager, not an hourly one, the big guy. Guy has no idea, I tell him “the thing for squashing the espresso, before you brew.”
    Manager says “I think you’re thinking of a French press.”
    I go, good gosh, no, I know what a French press is, not that. I have a French press.”
    Eventually I give up, go home and later talk to a friend who works at another BBB. He says “if they had put espresso tamp in the computer, it’s the first thing that comes up.”
    He convinces me to write an email, because the store I went to is a constant mess.
    The regional manager called and sent me a free tamp.



    No, I just… *cough*


    I hope your wife feels better soon, and that you never have to go through that special version of Hell again.

    Be glad she didn’t send you to Michael’s.

  4. Hah! You only spent an*hour* in Hell. My poor hubby heard me grumbling that all my girl friends were busy the next weekend and couldn’t go with with me to…he jumped in to volunteer to keep me company at…a QUILTING EXPO. That man *suffered*, lemme tell ya.

    I still haven’t heard the end of it.

  5. You haven’t experienced true humiliation until you’ve been sent by your wife to go pick up some feminine hygiene products. Then when you get home, are told it’s the “wrong one” and made to return to the store to exchange it for the right one.

    “Uhh…excuse me. Can I exchange this? I was told I got the wrong one.”

    It’s like that scene from Black Hawk Down when the air controller tells Tom Sizemore to turn around and drive his convoy through the blocked streets again.

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