Outfoxed by a Rabbit

Last night, on my ga-gillionth trip to Home Depot this summer, it occurred to me that I've done this all wrong. I had asked a floor clerk for grass patch to try to heal the portions of my lawn that I'd razed in ripping out my gardens last week, and he directed me to it. I'd only walked by it four times, so I didn't feel entirely stupid. There, at his feet was a small rabbit. I pointed to it and he sighed, "Yeah. We've got rabbits."
"That's so cool."

"Not really. There's feces everywhere. We've called Terminix to deal with them."

"You're going to kill Thumper?"

His face drooped, "Sir, you don't understand. They break into the bags of seed and then we have to mark them down to sell them because they're partially empt--"

"How much?"

"Sir?"

"How much do you mark them down?"

"At least half price."

"Awesome. I'll take those open ones there."

He loaded them into my cart. "It's just not good for business."

"Are you kidding? It's great! I'm the customer. I should know."

"But we're losing money."

"The customer is always right. You'd better not kill Thumper. In the meantime, why don't you stop storing seed on the floor?"

And I did see rabbits throughout the garden aisles, poking their heads out, then venturing up to the nearest pallate for a snack. Must be nice to live in your grocery store, fellas. Then it occurred to me: instead of buying a home and going to Home Depot every other hour, I should have moved into a Home Depot. I mean, they have all the supplies I need, plus the personnel that knows how to use them. Clever bunnies.

"Sir, these bags of seed are open," said Britney at the register. "Would you like to grab some different ones instead?"

"Nope. These are fine. Half-price, right?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to get the manager. Are you sure you don't--"

"Yeah, just call the manager."

A few moments later, a mustached gentleman in his mid-forties approached. "Aw, I see the rabbits have been at it again."

"Yes. Yes they have. Half-price, right?"

He nodded solemnly to Britney and she scanned them, then marked them down. I couldn't help but notice a typo on the manager's name tag, "Llloyd."

"Excuse me, but your name tag has three L's in it."

"Yes?"

"Yes." I paused and he stared at me, wondering what my point was. So I elaborated, "Yes. Three."

"Yes sir, I know. That's how I spell it."

"Oh, I've just never seen three L's in Lloyd before."

"Who's Lloyd?"

"You're Lloyd. Or Llloyd..."

"My name is Frank, sir."

"But your tag says Llloyd."

"That's just how it's spelled."

I swiped my credit card and then Britney shrieked and grabbed Ffrank's arm. She turned to me and announced, "Mr. Blair: this is your ga-gillionth trip to Home Depot!"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Ffrank double-checked her information on the screen. "It's true, sir. You've been here a ga-gillion times now."

"So, does that get me some kind of discount or something?"

They stared at each other and Ffrank turned to me, "Well, no. Not really. It's just that we've never had a ga-gillionth customer before."

"So, no discount?"

I could tell that Ffrank felt it unfair of Home Depot to not be prepared to honor such an event. He took me out front of the store and bought me a bratwurst and a soda from the hot dog vendor, but I had to pay for the chips.

True story.

Well, mostly the part about the rabbits.