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Josh Slocum's avatar

UPDATE: I have the belt, finally. How did I achieve this extraordinary task? How was I able to get this belt when no one between four different stores (and three incorrect parts delivered to said stores) could even confirm that the common part exists and has a universal identifying number for easy location?

Found a mom and pop lawnmower repair shop I didn’t know existed.

The shop is 50 years old. Guy and Lisa are in their 70s, and have run the business their entire married life. You walk in and instantly know that if they don’t have it, the part never existed.

Read above. They’re in their 70s. This means they’re from the Before Times When Thinking Was Like A Thing? They looked at me when I spoke. They did not push me to “find it on my phone.”

I told them I was an ignorant city boy, and that I’d ask stupid questions, and please teach me like a five year old. I won’t be offended.

Lisa explained to me how lawnmowers are branded, which numbers are necessary in order to connect the model to parts, and where to find them. She cleared up all my confusion about this in one spoken paragraph. No one else I talked to could do this.

I took pictures of every single name, model number, serial number, or any sequence of letters and numbers on the machine that could possibly be necessary for this task. Lisa praised my organization and logical approach (she actually recognized that I wasn’t stupid, and that I was gathering information the right way).

No “Gen Z stare.” No “if we had it it would be [wave arm in general direction] over there.”

I must have sounded like a fool telling Guy and Lisa how grateful I was for their help. This is what they do every day, because it’s how normal business grownups act. But it’s almost impossible to find in most places, and you almost never find it in anyone younger than 45.

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Gathering Goateggs's avatar

Thank you so much for putting a taxonomic structure to something that has been vaguely bothering me for years if not decades. I have among my acquaintance several women who will cut loose with something like "It's SO EXHAUSTING being an EMPATH" and my inside voice is yelling "Honey, you are not an empath. You are an emotionally dysregulated neurotic who has mistaken substituting your own mental mayhem for understanding the interior lives of others." It doesn't help that they're a distinct physical type as well.

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