让人倍感怀念的帕克的五金店_大学英语阅读

让人倍感怀念的帕克的五金店

The cynic might argue that one can accomplish the same end by shopping at the big-box warehouses whose footprints are measured not in square feet, but acres. Well, maybe sometimes, but certainly not always. And the likelihood of feeling forsaken in such a wasteland is high.

I recall the time I was rummaging in one of the aisles of a Bangor hardware fortress for a wireless door chime that Park’s didn’t carry. I found the thing, but didn’t understand the following gloss on the package: “Red light indicates condition of battery.” I spotted a clerk in a brightly colored apron.

“Excuse me,” I said, holding the item out, “I can’t seem to find the red light.” The man took the package, examined it, and, plopping it back in my hand, said, “Neither can I,” before he walked away. I contrast this experience with one I routinely had at Park’s, in which I would walk into the store holding a pile of arcane-looking metal and plastic pieces in my cupped hands.

“Lin,” I’d plead as I held out the offering before him, “can you ... please ... I don’t know ... do you think...?” And quicker than one could say, “little red light,” Lin would spring into action and together we’d voyage off into one of the eclectic recesses of the store to mix and match and measure until the solution precipitated before my eyes like a genie emerging from a lamp.